Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
T hey had managed, at most, three hours of sleep, before the early Hebridean sunrise trickled through the unclosed curtains just after four. Another benefit of his only neighbours being whatever fish lived in the loch— Loch Sealg, he had told her at dinner— was that being in too much of a rush to close the curtains didn’t end in a police record.
Ivy stirred first, finding him still spooned around her, them lying diagonally on top of the sheets in nothing even bordering on a sensible sleep configuration. And yet those three hours may have been the best night’s rest she’d ever had. She buried her nose into the arms folded around her and took in as much of his scent as she could get, pressing her hips back into him as it hit her brain.
“Morning,” he murmured, kissing her neck.
Ivy turned to look at him, skin burning from that morning voice, and though she had seen him just freshly awake before, this was something else. His crumpled hair and sleepy eyes felt like home. Just as he tilted to kiss her, she pulled back, slapping a hand over her mouth.
“I need to brush my teeth!” She protested.
He tried to pull her hand off while she wriggled free from his arms.
“Did you bring a toothbrush? Presumptuous.”
“No,” she tutted, now stuck underneath him as they wrestled.
“I guess you’re stuck then.” He pinned her hands beside her head and kissed up her neck. Between giggles, she pleaded with him.
“No, go away!”
He relented and Ivy screamed as she was suddenly moving through the air, tossed over his shoulder.
“Ross!”
He didn’t say anything. Technically. He said plenty with his hand placement on her arse. After a few long strides, Ivy was deposited in front of his bathroom sink and handed a toothbrush. She watched him hover behind her in the mirror, watching as she brushed. Even with her mouth occupied she could scowl at him. Which was really a compromise with herself, because, as she took in their naked frames in the reflection, with a flush across her chest and his ‘woke up like this’ roughness, a scowl was better than the heart eyes she could be making.
“What?” She paused her brushing while he studied her in the mirror. Stood there with toothpaste filing the corners of her mouth, the toothbrush hanging out, and nothing to cover her but her hand on her hip, not a whisper of self-consciousness affected her. And that should have affected her .
“Eyes in front.” He jutted his chin to the mirror, and she returned to looking at herself.
He came behind her, pressing his chest to her back and dragged his hand up her arm, and swept her hair behind her shoulder. He sucked on her ear lobe as his hand fell to between her legs.
At his touch, she moaned, dropping her head back onto his shoulder.“Ross.”
He took her hand and placed it back on the toothbrush, tilting her head back down to watch herself.
“You wanted to brush your teeth, Ivy.” His smile was wicked, but there was a softness still in his eyes, holding her gaze through the reflection.
His fingers worked in and out of her, while he remained pressed against her back, holding her against the sink cabinet. Brushing, in any active sense of the word, might have been a stretch, but she kept one hand on the toothbrush, Ross gently grasping her elbow. Her other hand was raised, fingers brushing though the hair behind his ear. Any time she dropped it to brace herself against the granite, he kissed her, and she returned it, needing as many points of contact with him as she could get, not wasting her fingertips on hard stone when they could feel him.
When she came, she laughed, watching herself fall apart in the mirror, but him holding each piece together, squeezing her tightly with his arms across her chest. Once her breathing slowed, he took the brush from her mouth.
“Clean enough?”
She dipped to the sink and spat.
“Spotless,” she replied, grinning up at his reflection through her lashes, before straightening up and facing him.
He kissed her deeply, then pulled back, running his thumb across the corner of her mouth to remove minty remnants.
He walked backwards from the ensuite, Ivy attached to his mouth, until he was sat in bed with her on his lap. She was more than wet enough to take him after the bathroom antics, but he still traced circles over her clit before lifting her up for him.
As she slid down his length, he recaptured her mouth and despite how far their hands roamed, covering inches and miles of their bodies, their lips didn’t separate. She rocked her hips slowly over him, eyes locked together.
After they finished, his head fell to her shoulder while he recovered. Ivy dug her hands into his hair, fighting to tame her pulse. Staring at the sage wall behind his headboard, an unfamiliar sensation crept over her. The breathlessness wasn’t abating as the time stretched on. She rubbed her hand over the base of her throat, swallowing as words threatened to spill out of her. Before they could, they were blocked by his hand sweeping upward and lacing his fingers through hers, pulling her tighter to him. When her heart sang as they pressed together, she dropped her lips to his crown to keep her mouth shut.
She woke up hours later to the sound of him pottering about in the kitchen. Rattling cutlery and a whistling kettle were perfectly underscored by him singing quietly to himself. Throwing on a hoodie and boxers she pilfered from his impressively organised drawers, she followed the delicious sound down the hall.
“You can sing,” Ivy said, leaning in the kitchen doorway.
He looked up at her and smiled, then took a moment for his eyes to tear over her. Pointing at himself with the knife he was holding, he spoke. “Mòd Gold Medallist 2010.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm Hmm.” He put a triangle of toast in his mouth and turned back to the pile he was buttering his way through.
Ivy bit her lip, crossing the kitchen to fix the tea as the kettle clicked off.
Ross took a mug from her, taking a sip. “Oh, your phone rang about 20 minutes ago. It cut off before I could get to it.”
“Mòran taing,” she replied, now sitting on the counter beside where he stood. “It’ll just be work, I’ll get back to them later.”
“What do you want to do today?”
“I’m easy, whatever you like.”
“‘Easy’ seems like a stretch,” he replied, one eyebrow cocking upwards.
“Aw, cool, I do know what I want to do then, actually,” Ivy huffed as he pressed his face into her neck.
“What?”
“Go home,” she laughed.
“No, you don’t,” he teased, pinning her against the countertop.
“I definitely, definitely do.” She tilted her face upwards, gripping his hair in her hands.
“Right.” Ross nipped at her earlobe, sending electricity down her neck.
“I do. And to never come back. Ever again.”
He brought his head back, meeting her eyes, glinting back at her smirk.
“No bother, I’ll bring the car around.”
“Much appreciated.”
She held his gaze as she tilted forward, trailing her lips lightly over his. His hands found the corners of her jaw and pulled her back to face him. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead before stepping back.
“Go get dressed.”
Her lazy smile slipped a second as she straightened up.
“Just to clarify, I don’t actually want to go home.”
He shot her a look as he moved towards the kitchen door. “No, really?”
He made it out of the room just in time to duck the tea towel she chucked after him. Biting the edge of her mug and fighting the urge to squeal, she followed behind him.
* * *
By teatime, they had sampled a copious amount of local coffee and cake. Sat by the beach, she hadn’t been able to convince him to swim, but that could be a work in progress. More of an On the Water Man, than In the Water Man, he’d told her, barely concealing a look of horror when she’d suggested it. Exceptions could be made for surfing though, she’d been told, and Kirsty had encouraged him into the occasional dip when his brain needed calming, and where there was an exception there was a way.
“So, suggestion,” Ross said as they got into his car later.
“Hit me.”
“Ally just texted me.”
“That’s not a suggestion.”
“Ally just texted me reminding me that I’m having dinner with them this evening.”
“Right…” Ivy’s heart reannounced its presence in her chest dramatically.
“And I suggest that I tell him I’m with you and then you can come as well.”
“‘With me’ as in?—”
He smirked. “Whatever you want.”
Levelling up its routine, her heart performed a somersault into swan dive manoeuvre that flushed heat through her entire body.
“I just?—”
“You could just be with me. Working on the photos.” His eyes were soft and unpressured, the gentle incline of his brow urging her to go on.
“I could be.”
“Well then, you’re invited. As a colleague, of course.”
“It’s—” Ivy laughed, hitting him lightly in the chest across the console. “Your sister-in-law is insane. She’ll have a million questions, that we don’t even have the answers to, and?—”
“Do you want to talk about the answers right now?”
She groaned, dropping her head back against the chair. “There’s a lot going on. Give me one more night as a colleague.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “No worries, casual acquaintance. I’ll send you my evening rates.”
“I’ve got excellent payment options.”
“That’s workplace harassment.”
“Fuck off. Tell them we’ll see them in an hour.”
* * *
She was sat opposite Ally and beside Kirsty, Ross diagonally across from her though somehow occupying her entire field of vision. Maybe it was just the wine, but a warmth enveloped the table, bathing Ivy in an ease she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt. If ever. Better still than that ease was the fizz that tickled across her skin every time she felt him watching her. In her periphery she saw his mouth quirk and cheeks glow every time she hit the right note. Every time she so obviously fit. She was more than aware of how good it felt, how naturally she slipped into this dynamic, and how much it would ache if she never just slotted in with the MacLeods again. In another situation, that might have terrified her. The potential for loss that opened up in front of her each time she gained something. The actual loss of the things she’d have to give up in order to be here for good. But when she saw him recognise it and like it, she couldn’t remember a single negative, and so she just glowed back. If Ally and Kirsty noticed, they had yet to let on. It was entirely reasonable that she was just thrilled about her good friends and good work. No need to think too hard and implicate their brother if they didn’t have to. Still, something in her itched to make it official. To swap seats and be his guest, not theirs.
Kirsty had insisted on a ban on discussing her diagnosis. Another night of normalcy as their gift to her, in lieu of flowers, and they had all obliged.
“Oh my God,” Ivy laughed, wiping away tears as Ross and Ally recounted their efforts to get Kirsty to agree to the first date.
“I wish I could say they were exaggerating,” Kirsty chipped in, affection undermining the shake of her head.
“Mrs MacNeill never looked at me the same afterwards,” Ross reflected.
“Is it any wonder, the poor woman.”
“I was running interference,” he said, holding his hands up and the octave of his voice did the same in faux horror.
“And we’re forever grateful,” Kirsty teased, throwing a napkin across the table at her husband.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Ally replied, launching a roll back at her.