Chapter Eighteen
Rafe
After a brief attempt, I gave up on schooling Iona in the art of the turndown. She seems determined to remain a heathen. We fell asleep together, wrapped up in each other's arms. I woke up this morning to her charmingly soft snores. After the wild time we had yesterday, I forgive her for snoring. As long as it doesn't mutate into chainsaw territory, I can live with it.
While she still slumbers, I carefully crawl out of bed and make sure the covers remain over her. Then I amble out into the living room, making my way to the kitchen island. We hadn't bothered to clean up after our evening snack, so the plates and glasses and other rubbish remain in the sink. After washing everything and wiping down the counter, I'm finally ready to consider what to make for breakfast.
A gourmet, I am not. But I can create a decent meal.
What Iona and I did yesterday left me knackered. But after a good night's rest, I feel reinvigorated. And I'm determined to cook a hearty breakfast for the woman who has become my salvation. Perhaps that statement is leaning toward the saccharine side, but I don't give a toss. Not that I plan on telling Iona about my saccharine feelings. I'll wait until we know each other better.
Once I've whipped up our breakfast, I head for the bedroom to awaken the sleeping beauty with my kiss. Yes, I've now stepped completely over the line into sappy romance. My son would never believe it.
Fortunately, Iona rolled over in her sleep. That means I can sneak up behind her, slanting over the bed to plant butterfly kisses on her shoulder. "Wake up, love. Time to rise and shine."
Iona stirs and moans.
When I kiss her shoulder again, adding a slight shake too, she still only moans and vaguely stirs. Crikey . This woman is determined to sleep until the next century. I step up my game by sliding a hand down to her breast and cupping that succulent mound. She still doesn't respond. I nuzzle her ear, then suckle the lobe.
Still no joy.
I slide that hand along her belly until I feel the downy hairs on her mound. Then I push one finger between the folds. The scent of her desire makes me want to bury my face between her creamy thighs. But still, she refuses to wake up. Or perhaps she's having me on, and she's been awake the whole time.
One way to find out.
"Well, pet, if you're that exhausted..." I slide my hand up to her belly. "Then I'd better not disturb you."
I am getting hard, though. The aroma of her cream could drive me mad, and it probably will unless I ease the pressure. If Iona wants to go on sleeping, I'll handle the problem on my own.
So, I slide off the bed but remain standing, almost touching the mattress. Iona pretends to snore, though not believably. I unzip my trousers, pull out my cock, and begin to stroke myself.
Iona lazily turns over onto her opposite side, facing me. Her lips curl into a devious little smile.
While she watches, I let my trousers drop to the floor and go on stroking my cock. My breaths turn into grunts and hissing. I keep my gaze locked on Iona even as I pump faster and feel those electric shocks gliding down my spine, about to unleash my come. I'm pumping so hard and fast that I might fall down if I don't come soon.
Iona flips the covers off, exposing her nakedness. "Come all over me, Rafe, please."
"Can't do anything but that."
She massages her tits, flicking her thumbs over the stiff peaks. But that doesn't push me over the edge. No, that happens when she thrusts a hand between her thighs to rub herself.
My back arches, a growl explodes out of me, and I unleash everything I have, spraying it onto Iona. With two more pumps, I'm done. And I release a sigh of deep pleasure. "Better have a shower, love. I've soiled you."
She shakes her head. "Everything you do cleanses me."
"That makes no sense."
Iona thrusts her hands into her hair and rolls her hips. "I'll help you understand what it means if you join me in the shower."
"But I made breakfast. It will get cold."
"Scamper into the kitchen and put everything in the oven on low heat."
I scoff. "Men like me do not 'scamper' anywhere."
"Then I'll shower alone." She cups her mound with one hand. "I'll take care of my needs alone under the steamy-hot water."
Her sensual tone leaves me with no recourse.
I rush out to the kitchen and fling the dish of food into the oven, just managing to restrain myself from accidentally setting the temperature to high. Then I sprint back down the hall to the bathroom, where the door hangs open, ready and waiting for me. Iona stands in the shower amid a cascade of steamy water, her skin glistening, her head thrown back as she thrusts her fingers through those wet locks. The sensuous curve of her spine stops me for a moment, and I can't resist raking my gaze over every inch of her skin.
She notices me watching and smiles. "Step into the shower, Rafe. I want to wash you."
"I've been able to manage that on my own since I was six years old."
"But I want to do it for you." She steps out of the spray, waving for me to walk into the shower. "Dinnae tell me no. I'm very persuasive."
"Yes, you are." I stride into the shower and grab a sponge. "I'll wash you first, pet."
Her lips tighten into a smile that dimples her cheeks.
Yes, she loves it when I tend to her needs.
I lather up the sponge and begin gently swirling it over her shoulders, while the suds trickle down her skin. She moans when I slide my hands over her hips to skim them up her belly to her breasts.
A phone rings in the bedroom.
" Mhac na galla ," Iona hisses. "Who would be calling this early? It doesn't sound like my ringtone."
"No, it's mine." I rinse myself off to shed the suds, then step out of the shower to grab a towel and quickly pat myself down. "Pardon me, love, while I see who's ringing me. It might be Toby."
I jog over to the bed and search for my mobile, hunting about underneath it as well as among the covers. As my mobile rings for the fifth time, I finally spot the device lying between the two pillows at the head of the bed. Snatching up the mobile, I tap the screen to answer. "Toby, what's wrong? You never ring me this early. Never wake up this early either."
"Why do you sound breathless? Have you been working out in Iona's house?"
I freeze, and a sudden chill ripples through me. "I don't understand."
Toby makes an irritated noise. "I'm a computer scientist, Dad. Did you really think I couldn't crack the encryption on your mobile phone and access the geolocation data to track you down?"
"What? You had no right to track me."
He lets out a bark of laughter. "You've been tracking me since the day you gave me a mobile phone for Christmas when I was sixteen. Kind of hypocritical of you to get annoyed when I did the same. Soooo, why are you at Iona's house at eight in the morning?"
The sneaky tone in his voice irritates me immensely. But I can tell he isn't angry. Toby seems determined to tease me until I erupt like Mount Vesuvius. He will be disappointed. I don't feel angry at all. My surprise had lasted only a moment after Toby declared he'd cracked the whatever-it-was.
"I'm rather busy at the moment, Toby. Why don't we meet for lunch somewhere?"
"Who will be joining us? You, me, Iona, and her two angry brothers?"
"Only you, me, Iona, and Eric. Assuming Iona isn't busy working on a story. Thane and Ramsay are not invited today under any circumstances."
My son remains silent for several seconds. When he speaks again, he sounds genuinely mystified. "You're okay with Eric joining us? I thought you wanted to pummel him into a pile of dust."
"Were you not listening during our discussion in Thane's house last week? I bear no ill will toward Eric. Provided he doesn't harass Iona anymore."
"You really like her, don't you? That's brilliant!"
I roll my eyes, but Toby can't see that. The woman I fucked last night and sort of fucked this morning has just sashayed out of the bathroom, dry but completely nude. The sight of her body distracts me, and I suddenly can't remember what I meant to say to my son.
"Still there, Dad?"
"Did you say something? I wasn't listening."
Toby snorts. "Yeah, I noticed. What I said was it's about time you found a girlfriend, a nice one who doesn't insult you all the time like Mum did."
"Please don't talk about your mother that way. Our divorce might have been acrimonious, but she is still your mum." I slide an arm around Iona's waist, tugging her close. "Besides, you still spend time with your mum, so I assume you don't despise her."
"No, but she isn't a good person. She was always nice to me, though she treated you like a human pile of rotting rubbish. Why did you let me believe you initiated the divorce?"
"Because I believed it was the right thing to do at the time." I rub my forehead. "Now I realize it was the wrong thing."
"Doesn't matter anymore. But where and when should we meet?"
"Just a moment." I hold my mobile to my chest as a sort of poor man's mute button and glance down at Iona. "Darling, would you mind if we had lunch with Toby and Eric at the café? I know Eric has been annoying you lately, but my son might not come if I ban your unwanted suitor."
"It's fine with me. Eric is a sweet laddie at heart."
"Maybe if he sees us together, he'll give up his quest to win your heart." I raise my mobile. "Toby, we'll meet you boys at one o'clock at the café."
"Brilliant!"
Yes, that is my son's favorite word. "See you then, Toby."
I disconnect the call.
And Iona smiles up at me with dimpled cheeks yet again, seeming inordinately pleased with herself.
I raise my brows. "What have I done now, pet?"
"You called me 'darling.' That's a term of endearment."
"True. But I've also called you 'pet' and 'love.' Why does the word darling please you more than the other terms?"
She hoists herself onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. "No one has ever called me 'darling' before."
"I'm honored to be the first." I kiss her forehead. "You've been saying something in Gaelic whenever you feel affectionate toward me. What does it mean?"
"The word gràidh means dear or darling."
No one else has ever referred to me as "darling," not in Gaelic or English. Iona and I have become better acquainted lately, but I need to learn everything about this woman. She seems like a sweet, wonderful woman who has a spine of steel and a soft heart. I like all of that. But I've been burned---scorched might be a better term---far too many times to jump into a relationship this quickly. My ex-wife did all the scorching. Even Toby doesn't know the full extent of her behavior.
Angela was granted custody of our son. That's how divorce works. The mother is given greater privileges than the father. Only recently have I begun to feel as if Toby and I are getting to know each other.
Iona clasps my hand, walking backward to urge me to follow her. "You promised me breakfast, and I'm fair starved. Come on, Rafe, let's feed each other."
We do precisely that. It's the first time ever that I've enjoyed a playful breakfast with a woman. Iona isn't like anyone else.
As we're cleaning up the dishes, something occurs to me. "Whatever happened to your intruder?"
She shrugs. "The constables couldn't find him. The cacan seems to have gone missing. Magnus MacTaggart and his wife, Piper, offered to work with Fergus and Sorley to track down the mystery man. No luck yet."
I don't like this at all. The git who meant to spy on Iona remains at large, free to enact whatever dastardly plan his handler ordered him to undertake. "Aren't you worried? The prat is on the loose."
"Aye." She shuts off the faucet, turning partway toward me. "I refuse to let fear rule my life. That's why I've gone on with my daily routine as if nothing has happened. I won't let one cacan upset me."
"I understand that. But I can't help worrying about you."