Chapter Three
Gretchen
Am I hallucinating? Or is that guy in the corner checking me out?
As he rakes his gaze over my entire body, I experience a strangely seductive sensation that makes me wet between my thighs.
Never have I ever wanted to approach a stranger and beg him to screw me.
But now, I do want that. Like crazy. Like I could jump onto his lap and ride him like a naughty cowgirl.
Holy heaven, that man is gorgeous. He has just the right amount of muscles---not overly buff but enough to make any woman swoon.
His hair is tousled in an effortlessly sexy way, and he's sporting a five o'clock shadow that I long to run my fingers across.
And those deep blue eyes...They're intense, piercing, and locked on me like I'm the only woman in this crowded café.
I take another sip of my Rob Roy, letting the liquid courage burn down my throat. The whisky is doing its job, making me feel all warm and tingly. Or maybe it's just him giving me that feeling.
"Are ye meaning to stare at the lad all night, or will ye talk to him?
" Moira, my new Scottish friend, nudges me with her elbow, nearly making me spill my drink.
She appointed herself as my buddy, or maybe "hall monitor" is a better term.
I don't mind. She's bossy but kind. "Well, lass, what'll it be? "
"Oh, I can't walk up to a stranger and proposition him." But my body is screaming for me to do exactly that.
"Yer in the Highlands, lass." Moira tips her head to the side. "I never did ask your name. How rude of me."
"I'm Gretchen Carver from Gatlinburg, Tennessee."
"You truly are far from home." Moira winks at me. "All the more reason to walk over to that man."
Biting my lip, I glance back at the hot stranger. "What if he's a serial killer?"
She laughs. "Why dinnae I introduce you."
Moira slings an arm around my shoulders, virtually dragging me out of my seat---and toward the strange, hunky man. Once we've reached the hidden corner where he's sitting, Moira abandons me. "Here ye are, lass. Introduce yourselves to each other and see what might happen."
The café owner doubles as a pimp. Who knew?
Not that I plan on getting naked with him.
Moira scurries away, smirking over her shoulder at me.
The man sits there in a casual pose, his hand wrapped around a whisky tumbler, and roves his gaze up and down my body. Then he licks his lips. "Who are ye, lass?"
"Gretchen Carver. Who are you, anonymous guy?"
"I'm Kirk Balfour." His lips twitch faintly in a slight smile. Then he pats the semicircular bench. "Sit, lass. I willnae bite."
Maybe I want him to do that. His smoky voice is turning me on even more, and the scent of his cologne, or whatever, is making my clit throb. Never before have I reacted to man this powerfully.
Kirk Balfour gazes at me as if I'm a whisky he's about to savor.
Good lord, I want to be consumed by this man.
My heart pounds as I slide onto the bench next to him, leaving just enough space between us to be decent, but not so much that I can't feel the heat radiating from his body.
The scent of him wafts over me too, though it doesn't seem like cologne.
I think he just naturally smells delish.
"So, what brings an American lass to our wee corner of the Highlands?" Kirk asks, his Scottish brogue rolling off his tongue in the erotic way.
"My parents ordered me to take a vacation, and for some reason, they picked Scotland as my destination."
He studies me for a moment. "You must be a workaholic, aye?"
"Why would you assume that?"
Kirk chuckles. "Your family sent you away to a foreign land. Most people come to Scotland to experience the beauty of the Highlands or the history." He takes a slow sip of his whisky. "Not many are sent here on a forced vacation."
I can't help but smile at his assessment. "Well, when you put it that way, it does sound kind of pathetic. But yes, I'm what you might call...extremely dedicated to my job."
"Dedicated?" His eyebrow arches, and his lips kink upward. "Is that what Americans call it? I'd say you're obsessed."
My cheeks grow warm, and I feel oddly exposed. "I prefer 'passionate,' thank you very much."
Kirk slides closer, eliminating some of that carefully placed distance between us. His thigh brushes against mine, and I swear electricity tingles up my spine in places that haven't felt electricity in far too long.
He leans in, his heated breath carrying the scent of whisky. "And what is it that you're so passionate about?"
"I'm a virtual assistant."
His brows knit together. "You're a real human being, not AI."
"That's not what a virtual assistant is. I have clients, but I never see them in person. I do my work in my apartment and send the project to the client via the good old world wide web."
"I see. That's an awfully isolated way to work."
"Not really." I clear my throat while trying not to bite my lip. "I have a roommate. Her name is Heather Forsberg. She's a little immature for her age, but she has a good heart."
Kirk slides closer to me, his breaths teasing my lips. "I can show you far more excitement than the internet ever could."
"Like what?" Is that breathy voice mine? Yeah, it is.
He slides his arm lower to encircle my waist, bringing our faces close enough that I could kiss him. Damn, I want that. But no, I should not do it.
"Come to my flat, Gretchen. You won't regret it."
"Um, I'm not sure if that's a good idea." I fidget with the napkin in front of me, trying to maintain some semblance of composure while my body aches for his touch. "What kind of excitement are we talking about?"
Kirk's eyes darken, an obvious sign of lust. He slides his hand across the table until his fingers are just brushing mine. "The sort that makes your heart race and your skin flush. The kind that reminds you that you're more than just your work."
I swallow hard. His touch feels like liquid fire on my skin. I'm caught between wanting to pull away and needing to grab his hand so I can shove his hand between my thighs in a much less innocent place.
"I don't usually do this," I whisper, surprised by my own honesty.
"Don't do what?" His smile is pure sin. "Ye'll need to be more specific, lass."
"I-I don't talk to strange men in cafés. Or consider...whatever it is we're, um, considering."
"Let me make it crystal clear, then." He brushes his lips over mine. "I mean to fuck ye, Gretchen."
"Oh." My mouth hangs open, and I try to close it. But my jaw might be hanging open far enough to let a bird fly in there. Did he really just say that? In a pub. Full of people.
I should run. Any decent woman with an ounce of self-respect would run, or at least slap him and storm out dramatically. But I don't feel threatened or even offended. I'm instantly, pathetically turned on.
Kirk rakes his lips over mine, flicking his tongue out to tease me, as if he's relishing my stunned silence. "I see we're in agreement, then."
"I didn't say yes."
He shrugs, unconcerned. "You will."
Unbelievable. I mean, the balls on this man. The balls and...what I hope the rest of him is packing.
I glance over my shoulder for an escape route, but Moira is watching from behind the bar with a knowing smile. The other locals are busy drinking or eating. Maybe they're discussing the Loch Ness Monster. But the only thing I can focus on is my lust for Kirk.
The man himself leans in until his lips brush the shell of my ear. "Or we can finish our drinks and ye could pretend this never happened. But ye'll be thinking of me tonight, when you're lying in your lonely bed, won't ye?"
Maybe he's a mind reader. Or maybe I'm too easy to figure out. Either way, he's right. I'll be dreaming of him. I already am.
Once I've I guzzled the rest of my Rob Roy, I sit up straighter and set the glass down firmly. "All right. Let's see this flat of yours. But I warn you, I know karate."
"Do ye now?" He seems skeptical of my claim. "I'm adept at karate as well as tae kwon do, Judo, Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Kung Fu, as well as boxing and MMA."
My eyes must be bulging now. He knows every way to kill someone. All I can muster in response is, "I also have brass knuckles."
"You are the most intriguing woman I've ever met, though I'm fair certain you're lying about your martial arts training.
" He settles a hand on my thigh, then slides it down between my legs.
"But I dinnae give a toss about anything except pleasuring you.
Please come to my apartment so I can ravish you in every way imaginable and some only I know. "
I can barely breathe as I respond, "Yes, take me to your place."
Kirk slides off the bench and clasps my hand. Something electric passes between us, and I grow more aroused every second. Sex with a stranger? No, no, don't do this, Gretchen.
But then he flashes me a wicked smile, leading me out of the café.
And I feel as if I've agreed to sign a contract with the devil.
Outside, the sun is giving way to dusk little by little, giving everything a soft, moody filter.
My mind registers the chill in the air, but my body is too hot to care.
I'm doing this, and there's no turning back now.
Mind-blowing sex is coming my way. Right now.