Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
ROBBIE
As Cat drives us back to my cottage, the setting sun paints the sky in streaks of orange and pink.
I can’t stop looking at her. The delicate curve of her chin, the slight upturn of her nose with that wee stud that glints in the fading light, the way her lips curl into a smile when she catches me staring.
“What?” she asks, her eyes returning to the road.
“Nothing. Just... that unexpected dinner turned out not too bad in the end.”
She laughs, the sound light and musical.
Before long, we come to the dirt track that leads to my cottage, and she turns onto it, the trees casting long shadows. After everything that’s happened recently, I should probably be focused on clearing my name, on figuring out how to prove my innocence. But right now, all I can think about is Cat.
She parks and kills the engine. For a wee while, we just sit there, the quiet settling around us like a blanket.
“Thank you,” I say finally. “For... getting me out of my own head today. And for standing up for me.”
She turns to me, her expression soft. “Anytime, MacDonald.”
We head inside, and I shrug off my jacket. Cat sits on the wee bench by the door to slip off her trainers, then she peels off her jacket and hangs it neatly on a peg beside my leather one. It’s such a small, ordinary thing, but watching her make herself at home in my space hits me hard. Something shifts deep inside me.
I slip one hand around her waist and draw her in. With the other, I tip her chin up, cradling it between my thumb and forefinger. Her skin is soft and warm, and her eyes lift to meet mine. Wide, searching, expectant.
I lower my mouth to hers—not gentle, but hungry, like I’ve been starving for the taste of her. She lets out a quiet, surprised sound against my lips, but then she’s pressing closer, her hands fisting in my shirt.
Eventually—because we do actually need to breathe—I draw back, but I don’t let go of her, just brush my thumb along her jaw. “You called me your boyfriend.”
Her cheeks are already flushed from the kiss, but now the blush blooms even brighter. “Aye. I did.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes.” No games. No teasing. Just honesty.
My heart thudding, I press my forehead to hers. “You’re mine now.”
She shivers.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, and the words send a jolt of possessiveness through me.
I pin her against the hallway wall, claiming her mouth again, rougher this time, tasting her gasp on my tongue. My hand slips under the waistband of her jodhpurs, my fingertips skimming over bare skin until I find her—hot and slick, ready for me.
She trembles, arching into my touch, and I press my mouth to her neck, letting my teeth skim the delicate skin as I breathe in her sweet, floral scent. She lets out a breathy moan when I slide two fingers inside her, her nails digging into my shoulders with delicious urgency.
“Tell me what you want, Cat.”
She doesn’t hesitate for long. “You. All of you.”
I remove my fingers and scoop her up in my arms—bridal style because there’s no other way to do this, not tonight—then carry her upstairs to my bedroom.
She takes in the simple decor, her eyes roving over the paperbacks on my shelves before finally landing on the large bed with its oak frame. I lay her gently on it then switch on the bedside lamp, a warm glow spilling across the room. I take her in—Cat, on my bed, cheeks tinged pink, auburn hair spread across my pillow, hazel eyes gazing up at me.
“You’re beautiful.”
I lie down beside her, intent on drawing this out and savouring every second, but Cat’s always full of surprises. Quick as a flash, she swings a leg over and straddles me, her warmth sinking into me, even through my jeans. Her hands make quick work of her top, tugging it over her head while I just lie and watch, mesmerised—starving for her, utterly under her spell. She shoots me a devilish grin, unhooks her bra, then tosses it aside.
At the sight of her full pert breasts, whatever remaining control I have dissolves. I shuffle back until I’m slouched against the headboard, pulling her with me so her gorgeous tits are right in front of my eyes.
“Bloody hell, Catriona, you’re gorgeous.” I let my fingers roam over the trail of freckles dusted across her skin, then I press a kiss to each one, feeling her shiver against my lips.
I cradle her breasts—just the right fit for my hands—and she bows towards me with a shaky moan that sparks fire in my veins. I draw one tight nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it while her hands tangle in my hair.
Her hips roll against my erection as I lick and tease her with my tongue. Every little sound she makes has me aching for more—her groans, the way she breathes out “Robbie” like it’s a prayer, the heat and need burning between us. Right now, nothing else matters but her.
Cat’s hips pick up speed, grinding against me with greedy intent. It’s a work of art, seeing her move like that, still wearing those caramel-coloured jodhpurs that cling to her as if they were made just for her.
I grip her arse, giving it a firm squeeze that draws a gasp from her lips. “Cat, are you trying to get yourself off on me?”
She nods, biting down sexily on her lower lip.
“Let me help you with that.” My voice is low, rough—I can barely keep it together. In one smooth motion, I flip us over, pinning her beneath me.
I take my time easing those jodhpurs down—slowly, deliberately, because she’s the sort of woman who should be unwrapped like a gift. She arches her hips, making it easy for me to slide them off, along with her knickers, baring all that glorious skin.
For several heartbeats, all I can do is look at her—drinking in her lean legs and delicious curves. And then I’m leaning over her and whispering into her ear, “I’m going to make you come on my tongue.”
She swallows audibly, then I get to work, trailing kisses down her neck, over those gorgeous breasts, across her belly, marking every inch with my lips. When I reach her thighs, she opens them for me.
“Good girl,” I murmur, my thumbs parting her folds so I can look at her: glistening, swollen, pink. Fucking perfect.
I lower my head, and Cat lets out this desperate, breathless little moan. My nose nudges her most sensitive spot as my tongue explores, savouring her unique scent and taste.
“Robbie!” she whimpers.
I lap and tease until her whole body trembles with the telltale signs of an orgasm brewing. To heighten things for her, I seal my lips around her clit and give a purposeful hungry suck. That’s all it takes. She shatters, calling out my name, her thighs squeezing my head as I feast on every gorgeous sound she makes.
The salty-sweet tang of her climax sends a fresh rush of heat to my cock. It’s straining against the rough denim of my jeans, the piercing pressing almost torturously against the fabric.
When the last tremors of her orgasm subside, Cat goes boneless, her legs floppy. I press a slow, lingering kiss to her pussy then glance up. One arm drapes across her face, her chest lifting and falling, those gorgeous pink nipples stiff and begging for my mouth all over again.
“How was that?”
She peels her arm away, blinking at me like she’s still floating somewhere above the bed. A lazy smile tugs at her lips. “It was... unbelievable.”
“Want more?” I trace my thumb across her hot cheek.
She nods, and I tug off my shirt then make quick work of my jeans and boxers. I slide between her thighs, plant a quick kiss on her lips, then line myself up and ease in, slow as you like, revelling in the way her hot, slick heat grips me, inch by glorious inch.
Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a moan, a sound that hits me somewhere deep and primitive.
“Look at me,” I demand, and when she does, I push in deeper. This time, we both groan.
“Do you have any idea,” I growl, rolling my hips, “what you do to me, Catriona McIntyre? How good you feel around my cock?”
In response, Cat wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips, pulling me in even deeper, as if she can’t bear a single millimetre of distance between us. Christ, it’s like nothing else, like coming home, only I never knew what that felt like until now.
Cat undulates beneath me with this natural, instinctive rhythm that drives me wild, matching me thrust for thrust, rolling her body up into mine every time I sink deeper, greedy for every bit of friction we can make together.
The connection between us is electric—hot, frantic, desperate—but underneath it there’s something softer too. The way she clings to me. The way our mouths find each other between gasps and moans.
Before long, our skin grows slick with sweat and we’re both panting with effort. When Cat’s walls flutter around me, I know she’s close.
“That’s it,” I murmur as she looks up at me like I’m responsible for the stars in the sky. “Let go for me!”
She falls apart beneath me, and I follow her over the edge with a guttural groan, pouring every bit of myself into her as we come undone together.
Afterwards, I don’t pull away. Instead, I gather her close, pressing my damp forehead to hers as we catch our breath. I want to tell her she means more than anyone ever has, but I don’t know how.
Eventually, I manage, “Cat, this... isn’t just a bit of fun for me.” It’s not nearly enough, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I know. And you’re not just a bad boy to me.”
I pull out of her then wrap my arms around her, letting her settle against me with her head nestled beneath my chin. The things I can’t find words for hang quietly in the air, but I hope she hears them in the way I hold her close.
After a while, the sweat on our skin cools. Cat stretches, blissed out and deliciously sleepy.
I get up and drape a woollen throw over her. “Just going for a shower.”
She lets out a lazy, satisfied wee sigh and curls herself into the pillow.
When I return five minutes later, a towel slung low around my hips, I’m fully expecting to find her asleep. Instead, she’s sprawled naked atop the sheets, propped up on her elbows and eyeing the cork board, which she insisted I take after her and David’s undercover mission to the Glen Garve Resort. Her phone is awake beside her.
“Looking very relaxed there,” I say, admiring her perfect arse. I can’t resist sauntering round the bed for a better view, my eyes wandering shamelessly down the length of her body and lingering between her thighs.
Cat doesn’t even glance up. “Oi! Stop ogling my bits. I’m conducting serious detective work here.”
“Sorry, but can you blame me? You’re an absolute vision. Also, detective work in the nude?”
She grins sideways at me then returns her focus to the board. “Incoming English teacher fact: Ernest Hemingway wrote naked. Victor Hugo too. Others, I’m sure. It must be good for inspiration, and I need inspiration because I’m going to clear your name. I’m looking back through the photos I took in Samantha’s office and the evidence that David gave us, just in case I missed something.”
Suddenly she frowns and shifts onto all fours (which only gives me an even better view) then crawls closer to squint at something pinned near the bottom of the board.
“Talking of which... oh shit, I... I think I may actually have something!”
She twists around, her eyes alight with excitement, and it takes true effort to tear my gaze away from everything else on display.
“I think I can prove you didn’t nick anything. Just... give me a minute!”
And before I can ask what she means, Cat leaps off the bed and dashes stark naked from the room. I watch her go, torn between feeling like my luck might finally be turning and wondering how the hell my cock’s already hard again. Seriously, I’m pitching a tent in my towel here.