Page 33 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

‘It’ll be easier if you stop wriggling and put your arms around my neck.’

‘You can’t carry me, I’m too heavy.’

‘Yeah, you do weigh a tonne,’ he wheezed, and her mouth dropped open. ‘I’m joking,’ he said, striding down the path at a steady pace. ‘But if you want me to put you down, I will.’

She didn’t want, so she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder to show him exactly how much she didn’t want him to put her down.

His beard tickled her nose, and she rubbed it against his neck to relieve the itch, then nuzzled her face deeper, breathing in the smell of him.

‘If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ he murmured.

‘Doing what?’

‘Nibbling my neck.’

‘I’m not nibbling. This is nibbling.’ Gently, she nipped the soft skin below his ear.

‘Freya, you’re going to have to stop doing that.’ His voice was hoarse, and it did strange and wondrous things to her insides.

Recklessly, she did it again.

Mack halted. ‘I can’t— You mustn’t—’

‘Don’t you like it?’ She had no idea what had come over her, but she was enjoying the power she had over him, as his breathing deepened and he tightened his grip on her.

He said, ‘That’s the problem, I like it a lot.’

Her pulse throbbing, she found his earlobe and kissed it, and the groan he uttered turned her insides to liquid.

‘I’m warning you,’ he growled. ‘Stop, or—’

‘Or what?’ She raised her head and was awed by the hunger in his eyes.

‘I’ll be forced to kiss you.’

‘What are you waiting for?’ She was playing with fire, but the thought of being burnt by this man was irresistible.

Slowly, he bent his head to hers and she closed her eyes, her lips parting.

The kiss was sweet, tentative, a mere fluttering.

Her heart hammering, her pulse soaring to a roar in her ears, she dug her fingers into his hair.

Still kissing her, he gently released her legs and she slowly slid to the ground until she was standing upright, her body pressed against his, his arousal making her weak with longing.

It was Mack who ended it, but not before he’d thoroughly explored her mouth.

Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, ‘We should stop.’

Freya didn’t want to stop. She wanted to kiss him and keep kissing him until—

‘You’re right.’ She breathed slowly, gathering her scattered wits and trying to calm herself.

Mack cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get you home.’

Freya gave him a dubious look. ‘I don’t think carrying me is a good idea. I’ll be fine going barefoot.’

‘You won’t.’ He turned his back on her and she stared at him incredulously. Was he going to walk away and leave her here?

When he crouched down and said, ‘Hop on,’ she was even more incredulous.

‘Are you offering to give me a piggyback ?’

‘Hop on,’ he repeated. ‘We should have done this from the get-go.’

Dismay swept over her as his meaning became clear: if he had given her a piggyback in the beginning, they wouldn’t have kissed. When he’d said, ‘We should stop,’ he hadn’t meant they should stop before they got carried away; he’d meant that the kiss had been a mistake.

Hurt and rejected, she pushed past him and stalked off down the path, ignoring the discomfort. She didn’t care if her feet fell off, she had to get away.

Mack strode after her, catching her by the arm before she’d managed more than a handful of steps. ‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

‘Home.’ She shook him off.

‘What about your feet?’

‘They’ll be fine.’

‘I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?’

‘You kissed me!’

‘I thought you wanted me to. You started it.’

‘I wish I hadn’t.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise… I misread the situation.’

‘It’s me who misread it. I thought—’ She huffed angrily, but tears lurked behind it. What a bloody awful day. First Hadrian and now Mack.

‘What did you think?’ he asked.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She made to stalk off again, but he held her back.

‘It matters to me. What did you think?’

She rounded on him. ‘That you liked me.’

‘I do like you.’ He seemed genuinely puzzled.

‘Not like that.’

‘Like what? Freya, you’re going to have to spell it out for me, because I don’t understand.’

She pressed her lips together, debating whether she should tell him, then thought, What the hell . ‘I thought you fancied me.’

‘I do. I don’t kiss women I don’t fancy.’

‘But you just said that we should have done the piggyback thing from the start.’

‘We should have. Carrying you like that was a daft idea.’

‘Because it led to us kissing.’ Her voice was flat.

‘No, you numpty – because it made my arms ache and my back is in bits.’ He chuckled. ‘Did you think I meant that it was a mistake to kiss you?’

She refused to meet his gaze. ‘No,’ she replied sulkily.

The chuckle turned into a chortle. ‘Yes, you did.’

‘It was a logical assumption to make.’

Mack sobered. ‘I’m going to be honest with you, Freya.

I fancy you rotten. You’re beautiful and sexy, and I like you a lot.

The problem is, I think I like you too much.

So yes, I do want to kiss you again.’ He leant towards her, his mouth almost touching hers.

‘I want to do much more than kiss you, but I don’t think it’s wise. ’

He was right, it wasn’t wise. Getting involved with him was a bad idea. She should concentrate on her father and her future, not on a quick fling, especially since she’d just come out of a relationship.

‘Do you still intend to walk home in your bare feet?’ he asked.

Oh, what the hell! ‘Giddy-up, Burns,’ she said. ‘I need a lift home.’