Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (9 page)

In one swoop, his mouth captured hers, one arm circled her back, hauling her up against him and the other hand threaded through her long, wild locks around the base of her skull. He claimed her mouth, demanding her attention, her response, opening her up to him and delving deep. His tongue slid over hers, tasting the mint of her tooth-wash, delighting in the tingle of it on his own tongue.

Her body was warm and supple pushed against him. Her breasts pert and full, the fabric of her gown not able to hide the hardness of her nipples. He fisted his hand at her back to keep from shredding her clothes from her body. His cock pushed painfully against his jeans, demanding to be let loose and his mind ran away with the memory of her slick channel, the tightness of her cunny and how he wanted so desperately to thrust deep inside her.

Mo chreach.

He slid his hand from the small of her back to the side of her hip, to her thigh as he walked her backward toward the wall. Her back pressed to the sturdy façade, he lifted her lithe thigh around his hip and ground his cock against the heat searing him between her delicious legs. Her body hadn’t changed much in the past three years, maybe more fit. Her hips were still lush as lush as he recollected, her breasts… Oh, he had to touch her. He slipped his hand from her hair to cup a breast, feeling the hardened nipple against his palm. Sweet delight. He wanted her so badly. Might, in fact, take her right here against the wall.

He’d done so before. Many times.

He gently pinched her nipple as he ground against her, rocking his body back and forth, stirring his blood and hers. His denim was growing mighty damn uncomfortable. When she let out a soft whimper, he pinched a little harder, tilted his head and kissed her harder, sucking on her tongue the way he wanted to suck on that perky, pink nipple. He knew just what color it would be, like a dusky sunset set on cream.

Moira moaned, and he couldn’t help but growl and press his cock harder against her sweet sex, the pleasure pulsing through him intense. He bit down on her lower lip, sucked, and then she did the same to him, mimicking every move he made.

“I want ye,” he whispered against her mouth. “Ye were mine once, and ye’ll be mine again.” Rory dropped to his knees in front of her, slid his hands up under her dress, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her hose, and tugged them down.

She didn’t protest.

“Something to make ye remember me. Us,” he growled. He drew the small triangle of her lacy underwear aside, revealing the sweet treasure he sought, and then he pressed his lips to her heat.

Chapter Seven

Potent desire filled Moira.

Pleasure, remembered and renewed, lit between her thighs as Rory lapped at her folds, worshipping her body. A body that pulsed only for him. No man had ever made love to her the way Rory did. No man compared. His enthusiasm, his talent—

Oh!
His tongue swirled over her clit, then down, between her lips and back again.

Thank god for the wall behind her, because her legs shook hard enough she was certain she’d not be able to stand on her own.

Need and desire made her wet, made her skin tingle. She clenched her fists, trying to resist. They had things to do. She should push him away. Letting him touch her was wrong… But this… This seemed infinity more important at the moment. And it felt so damned right.

“Ye taste just as good as I remember,” he murmured against her flesh, and the vibrations of it sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through her.

“Rory,” she whimpered, fisting one hand in his hair. But she was weak to her desire, her need, and the deep-seated emotions that he brought out. She wanted him. Missed him so much. And now he was here, and she was lost.

Sensing her surrender, he upped his pace, his tongue whipping pleasure against her clit. His calloused hands massaging and stroking her thighs.

She was a prisoner to her own cravings. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to think. Only seeking the end result of his delicious torment.

And then her body, alight with vigor and rekindled excitement, burst into fiery flames. Moira cried out, her hips bucking forward, limbs jerking, body shuddering. She grasped for something, anything to hold onto—his hair, the door behind her.

“Just like I remember,” he said, sliding his mouth down the length of her inner thigh. “So intense, so honest. I love watching ye come.”

She opened her eyes, looking down at him, and a flood of memories filled her. Maybe it was because of the vulnerable state she was in, or that he could so easily undo her, how with one look from him, she’d wanted to do whatever he said—and with a smile. Tears welled in her eyes.

Embarrassment at her tears, at how she’d let him go down on her, flooded through her senses and she moved to tug up her panties, her leggings and then shoved down her sweater dress. Rory sat back on his heels, looking confused.

“Go wash your face,” she muttered, mostly disappointed in her own easy surrender. “We have to leave, if my sister really is in jail.”

“Moira.” He stood, and when she tried to turn around, he gently held onto her arms, sliding up to her shoulders so she was forced to face him. “What’s wrong?”

She gritted her teeth, frustration filling her. “Ye. This. Us.
Everything
!” Hot anger burned her chest, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ye’ve been gone for three years.
Three years
. Do ye realize that? In case ye didn’t notice, that’s a damned long time without any word. And to top it all, ye ran off with my sister.
My sister
. If ye knew what I’d been thinking, all the things I imagined…” Her voice broke off on a sob, and she quickly covered her face with her hands so he couldn’t see her tears truly shed. “Ye can’t just come back and expect me to fuck ye with a smile and a thank ye.”

“Moira.” Pain filled his expression and he looked torn. Genuine. As though his leaving hadn’t been his fault. But how could she believe that? It was bullshit!

Rory gathered her in his arms, and once more, she allowed his touch, sinking into the vast expanse of his broad chest and the comfort of his thick muscles.

He was her weakness.

She laid her head against his chest, hearing the hitch in his heartbeat—not the only clue he was as affected as her. He held her tight, as though he didn’t want to let go, and truly, she didn’t want him to.

“If I could go back, if I could somehow be certain we wouldn’t have left, I would have. Ye’ll see when we talk to Shona, there was no choice. I didna want to leave ye, lass. I would have stayed with ye forever, and I canna tell ye how much I tried to get back to ye. How much I wanted to get word to ye. When I arrived yesterday—ye were the first thing on my mind. The only person I came to see, and even when ye pushed me away, I couldn’t leave ye.”

“I just don’t understand.” She lightly pounded at his chest as tears soaked his shirt. “Why?”

His chin moved back and forth on top of her head as he shook it. “I canna explain without Shona. Even Ewan will be able to help.”

“Were ye kidnapped? Who held ye against your will?”

“Let us go, lov—lass, and soon ye’ll know everything.”

She’d be crazy to walk out the door with him. Crazy to let herself fall once more under his spell. Their relationship had been intense. And when he’d disappeared, it had broken her. She’d been dragging herself through life, settling for a relationship with Dickie because even though he was an arsehole, he was safe. He had his own money, he had his own life, and he didn’t care enough to notice how broken she was.

“Please, Moira, let me have a chance to explain. Let me reunite ye with your sister.” His dark eyes pleaded, and she caved.

Well, she supposed she was crazy. Obviously. Because, the thought of seeing her sister again, of hearing the truth from them all, was too much of a lure. She had to know. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try. And, she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that the chance to be with Rory again didn’t rank high on her list of motivations.

When they’d been together before, she’d been certain they were the real deal, the wedding bells, babies and a dog, kind of deal.

“Ye broke my heart,” she said. “But I’ve no choice except to trust ye right now.”

“I swear to ye, Moira, I’m going to make it up to ye. I’m going to heal your heart.”

That made her frown and the stubborn side of herself, the piece that didn’t want him to know how much he hurt her or how much she cared, glowered up at him. “What makes ye think I need
ye
to heal my heart?”

Rory held his hands up. “I’d never presume, lass. Never. I just want to show ye how sorry I am. I want to earn your forgiveness.”

Moira let out a shuddering sigh. Her eyes were swollen, her face felt warm, no doubt she looked like a hot mess. But she had no other choice, and the hope that her sister was safe, charged her full of energy. She nodded, unable to say anything in regards to what he’d confessed. There was just too much, and she was afraid she’d start sobbing again. “I’ll drive,” she said softly.

Rory stared at her a moment, and then he, too, nodded. “Ye have the clothes?”

“Right here.” She lifted the black duffle bag from the floor where she’d dropped it.

Rory unbolted the door and pulled it open for her. “After ye, my lady.”

Moira hid her tiny smile. Even now, after all this time, he was still a gentleman.

As she stepped out onto the porch, she had a moment of panic where she expected to see Dickie storming toward them. But he was nowhere to be seen. Part of her felt bad for Dickie. He’d been literally tossed out of her house. He might have deserved it a little, but still… She also knew there would be some sort of backlash. Dickie was a lot of bluster, but when he sought his revenge he liked to fly under the radar. She’d probably find out all her sky miles were wiped clean or something, or something equally passive aggressive that she couldn’t pin on him.

“I remember this carriage,” Rory said, walking straight up to her compact, red car.

“Do ye remember how to use it?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I dinna think ye want me to try.” He took the bag from her and tossed it into the backseat.

Moira couldn’t help a quiet laugh, recalling what had happened the last time she’d let him drive. On a whim, they’d gone out to the country so she could teach him. They’d ended up driving through a fence onto a random farm with dogs chasing them, chomping at the wheels as they screamed for the dogs to leave them be until they made their way to a road again.

“Yeah, I’m good with driving,” she said. “I think seeing my sister is going to be enough excitement for me.” Immediately her mind was inside her foyer, thinking of the excitement they’d just had.

She shuddered, and moved jerkily to grab her door handle, but there Rory was, opening the car door for her, too.

“Allow me,” he said, his voice whisper soft, and his breath warm near her ear.

“Thanks,” she said, rather roughly, trying to get over the way he made her feel—which wasn’t working in the least.

She settled into her seat, buckled up, and started the car, while Rory worked to fold himself inside. This all felt so unreal. Like she was floating in a dream, except, her head pounded with the beginning of migraine. It had to be reality. Rory finally got himself into the car, his knees pressed to the dash and his head touching the roof.

Moira pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She’d forgotten what a challenge it was for a man with Rory’s height to fit in her car. He looked like a giant, and at six-feet-six, he practically was.

Finally, he remembered how to push the seat back to a point where he had more room to sit.

“I hope Ewan isn’t as tall as ye are,” she said.

“I’ve never met the man.”

“My sister brings a strange man home, and ye’ve been with her the past few years and ye don’t know who he is?” She raised a doubtful brow at him, and then looked past his shoulder to see if there were any cars coming.

Coast was clear. She pulled out onto the street. The drive was quick, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes after they got past being stuck at every light, and waiting for hordes of pedestrians to cross in front of them. Those minutes ticked by like an eternity of time. They were both quiet, contemplating. She wondered what it would be like to see her sister. Rory said, for some reason. Shona and her companion had been without clothes. How the hell had that happened?

Moira turned into the prison parking lot, the tall brick building looming up foreboding behind barbed wire, and she had a sudden fear of going inside. She didn’t want to. This was a scary place, filled with criminals.

“Saughton Prison,” she murmured. When they were kids, living in a foster home, anytime they were bad or tried to run away, their foster parents would warn that one day they’d be housed in Saughton Prison.

How right they were.

Holy hell.

“Let’s get this over with.” Moira shoved open her door and Rory grabbed the bag from the backseat. “Did she mention bail?”

Rory shook his head. “Not that I remember.”