Page 27 of One Night in Glasgow (The Scottish Billionaires #15)
“You seem different here,” I said, catching one of her gesturing hands in mine. I didn’t just hold it. I turned it over, tracing the lines of her palm with my thumb, feeling the delicate skin there. “More... you.”
“I feel different,” she admitted, her fingers lacing through mine. Her breath hitched almost silently when I brought her knuckles to my lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there while holding her gaze. “Here… here I can just breathe.”
The server arrived with our food. Beth’s eyes went wide at the massive plate of pasta. “Good lord, I could feed half of Glasgow with this.”
“Want to share?” I offered, my eyes dropping back to her mouth.
“Not a chance, McCrae,” she grinned, her voice a low, playful challenge as she twirled pasta around her fork. “Get your own.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckled and turned to my own meal.
But my attention wasn’t on my food. It was entirely on her.
I watched, completely captivated, as she expertly twirled a long strand of linguine around her fork.
She brought it to her mouth, her lips parting slightly, her eyes closing for just a fraction of a second as she savored the first bite.
The entire restaurant, the noise, the other diners—it all just faded into an indistinct blur.
It was the most unconsciously sensual thing I’d ever seen.
A tiny, glistening smudge of red sauce clung to the corner of her mouth.
Instead of reaching for her napkin, her tongue darted out.
It was a quick, pink flick that cleaned the spot with devastating efficiency.
My cock gave a hard kick against my zipper.
I imagined my tongue following that same path, imagined tasting the rich tomato and the salt of her skin.
I had to shift in my seat, the booth suddenly feeling ten degrees hotter and about a thousand times too small .
She looked up then, her blue eyes sparkling under the dim light, and she caught me staring. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.
“What?” she asked, her voice pure, buttery innocence, though her eyes were pure mischief.
“Just admiring your technique,” I said, my voice coming out a little rougher than I intended. “You’re a professional.”
“It takes practice,” she murmured, taking another deliberate, slow bite, her gaze locked with mine over the tines of her fork.
She was playing a game, a delicious, torturous game, and I was losing spectacularly.
Every move she made, the way she licked a drop of wine from her lip, the slight arch of her back as she laughed at something I said, the way her fingers curled around her wine glass, was an invitation. A promise.
We had to get her out of here. Now. Before I did something wildly inappropriate, like crawl across this table and take that next bite of pasta right from her lips.
I frantically signaled for the server, who seemed to be moving in slow motion. When the check finally came, Beth reached for her purse, but I waved her off, my hand covering hers on the table. “My treat.”
“Sean…”
“Consider it part of the experience,” I winked, my thumb stroking the back of her hand. “Non-negotiable.”
Outside, New York had slipped into its sexier evening attire, a dazzling display of lights that pulsed with the same potential humming between us. The city that never sleeps was wide awake and ripe with promises of adventure.
“Let me take the subway back with you,” I offered, already dreading the thought of our night wrapping up. “The crazies come out after dark, and I’d feel better playing bodyguard. ”
“Worried about me?” Her tone was playful, but I caught the pleased look in her eyes.
“Damn right I am,” I replied with a grin, as I steered her towards the subway entrance.
Her body melted against mine as we swayed with the subway car’s motion, her head settling onto my shoulder like it was always meant to be there.
My arm was tight around her waist, my hand resting possessively on her hip.
The rocking of the train was a slow, torturous rhythm, pressing our bodies together, and I leaned down, my lips brushing her ear.
“I can’t wait to get you alone,” I whispered, and I felt a shiver run through her.
She didn’t pull away. That was all the answer I needed.
Outside her place in Brooklyn, I stalled on her front steps under the amber glow of the streetlights, unwilling to let the night end.
“I want to see you tomorrow,” I said, my voice low as I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “And the day after that.”
Beth tilted her head, her blue eyes searching mine. “I thought you were just on the east coast for speaking engagements. How long are you planning on hanging around?”
I took a breath. Time for the truth, no more bullshit.
“I already told you I was worried about you, and I found out from Kinna that you were here in New York. I wanted to check up on you, but that’s not all.
Besides the Philadelphia conference next week, there are no other speaking engagements, Beth.
The truth is, I blew up my schedule to come to New York.
For you.” Her eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief in them.
“Danny thinks I’m insane, and logically, he’s right.
But letting you walk away on that street in Glasgow felt like the single biggest mistake of my life.
I had to find you. I couldn’t give up on you just like that, Beth. ”
A slow, dazzling smile spread across her face, chasing away the last of the shadows in her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
That was it. That was the only permission I needed.
I closed the small distance between us, and my mouth found hers.
The kiss was electric, a confirmation of everything unspoken.
It wasn’t just hungry; it was starving. A mix of raw relief and pure, unadulterated want poured from me into her, and she met it with her own fire.
My hands found her waist, pulling her flush against me until there was no space left between us, savoring the feel of her soft curves.
This woman felt like coming home in a way I hadn’t known I was looking for.
I knew I was in deep, on the verge of falling completely, and I wanted to pull her down with me. My voice came out as a rough, thick whisper against her lips. “Don’t make me leave tonight, Beth.”
Her response was a soft, alluring smile as she leaned in, her lips brushing against mine again, sending another jolt of lightning through my system.
“Screw it,” she breathed against my mouth. “Come inside.”
We stumbled through the door, a tangle of limbs and hungry mouths, our kisses only breaking for the briefest of gasps for air. Beth kicked off her shoes near the entrance while I shrugged out of my jacket, letting it drop to the floor.
The apartment was dimly lit, smelling strongly of patchouli and something else I couldn’t quite place, maybe the lingering ghost of good vibes? My eyes adjusted to the chaos of colorful tapestries and dream catchers. It looked like a 70s head shop had a baby with a fortune teller’s caravan.
I pulled back, my brain, already short-circuiting from her kiss, trying to process the layout. Living room that looked like a Jimi Hendrix album cover… kitchenette… and a distinct and alarming lack of the one piece of furniture that was suddenly very, very relevant.
“Hold on,” I murmured against her neck. “Beth? Am I missing something, or… where’s your bed?”
She burst out laughing, a delightful, uninhibited sound. “It’s a Murphy bed, you absolute dork.” She playfully pushed me back a step and moved to the wall, grabbing a handle I hadn’t even noticed and pulling. A hidden panel lowered, revealing a full-sized bed. “Welcome to New York living.”
I let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed. “Okay, that’s actually pretty cool.” A grin spread across my face. “But I see the danger.”
She paused, looking at me over her shoulder with a curious glint in her eye. “Danger?”
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “You come home drunk after a night out, you might forget where you sleep… inside your own flat. You’d end up sleeping on the floor.”
“Well, that can easily happen, even with a regular bed, trust me. But I’m not drunk now,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky murmur as the bed settled into place.
She patted the mattress, her eyes locking with mine.
“And the floor is definitely not where I plan on spending the rest of the night.”
That was all the invitation I needed.
We came together with a force that was less a gentle tumble and more a magnetic collision, landing on the bed in a heap of tangled limbs and breathless, relieved laughter.
All the tension from the past few weeks, the scandal, the separation, the push- and-pull of our reunion, finally snapped, replaced by a sense of rightness.
It was ridiculous and exhilarating all at once.
All the carefully constructed walls of my public life, the ones I hadn’t even realized were there, came crashing down.
And all that was left was this ridiculous, exhilarating lightness of just being with her.
My fingers found the edge of her dress, and I teased the fabric higher with deliberate slowness. The thin material bunched under my touch as Beth’s breath caught audibly. Her blue eyes darkened, fixed on mine with an intensity that made my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
“I’ve thought about this every night since Glasgow,” I murmured, watching her pupils dilate as my hands slid higher along the smooth skin of her thighs. “Dreamed about having you underneath me again.”
Beth’s lips curved into that wicked smile that had haunted me for months. “Then stop teasing and do something about it, McCrae.”