Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
EILIDH
Iate two slices of pizza before the butterflies forced me to stop.
We chatted a little more about Callie and Lewis’s plans to create space for the new baby in the nursery because they wanted Harley and the baby to be together while they were both still young.
I could imagine how excited my niece would be once the baby came.
Harley would be around two and a half by the time my new niece or nephew arrived, big enough to be aware of the change but not too old it might cause rivalry. Hopefully.
All throughout our chat, I attempted to conceal my anticipation. Lewis and Callie seemed oblivious, but Fyfe had been throwing very hungry looks my way for several days and today the tension crackled between us.
Something shifted for me that night I’d lain in Fyfe’s arms after Peter’s attack. Trying to force a casual relationship on Fyfe had been born of my fear of rejection again.
But I’d known the moment he’d turned to me, overcome with emotion and guilt, that I meant a great deal to him. Maybe it wasn’t love yet, but I hoped it could turn into love. If I was just brave enough to reach out.
Tonight, I wanted to be brave again. To be the Eilidh who ran toward the things she wanted, instead of hiding from them and the world.
Peter Pryor’s sick perversion and obsession had the opposite effect on me from what most people might expect. I didn’t want to shy away, to live my life smaller so I wouldn’t have to face something as scary as him again.
I wanted to live my life big. But my definition of big.
Big to me was being open to the things and people that excited me. To talk to Uncle Brodan and Theo Cavendish about the script that I was more than ready to share.
To spend every second making up for all the years I’d missed out on my beautiful family.
And to throw myself into loving Fyfe because I’d never stopped loving him, and it was foolish to pretend otherwise.
By the time Lewis and Callie were ready to leave, my heart was beating with excitement and my skin was hot. Lewis asked me if I wanted a ride home, but I casually replied, “I’m going to stick around for a wee bit.”
Lewis appeared almost pained as he glanced between me and his best friend, but Callie laughed and shoved him out the door.
Silence seemed to scream between me and Fyfe as soon as my brother and sister-in-law departed.
Fyfe locked the door and turned to me. He wore his contacts today because he preferred wearing them if he was doing something physical.
His Muse T-shirt sculpted to his strong body and his paint-splattered joggers hung low on his waist.
The man was so sexy, I might die from it.
Lewis’s SUV purred to life, and we heard it pulling away from the house.
My mouth turned dry, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands.
Like always when I couldn’t stand the tension, I impatiently blurted, “Well, are you going to just stand there or are you finally going to have your wicked way with me?”
His dark eyes gleamed. “That depends … do you agree this isn’t casual? That if we do this, we’re doing it for real?”
“What I feel for you is the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life,” I whispered bravely. “It isn’t casual between us, Fyfe. It’s the opposite of casual.”
His nostrils flared for just a millisecond and then he bridged the distance between us to haul me into his arms. His lips crashed over mine and I grabbed hold of the front of his T-shirt to pull him down to me as I lifted onto my tiptoes.
It was a deep, hungering kiss. Fyfe’s hand on my nape, holding me to him.
His other pressed low on my back as he dominated our embrace.
His kiss was desperate, and it set every inch of me on fire. It was sexual and consuming. It was years of pent-up longing. It was the kiss we’d shared on my couch months and months ago but set free, not just by sobriety but by acceptance.
This thing between us … it was meant to be.
Fyfe lifted me under the arms and I instinctually jumped, wrapping my legs around his waist. His strong hands gripped my thighs as we moved backward. Then just as suddenly, my arse was on the dining table, my legs wrapped around Fyfe’s hips as his ravenous kisses intensified.
When his mouth eventually left mine, it was to trail along my jaw. The scratch of his beard made me shudder with need as he kissed a path to my ear. “First, you’re going to come all over my tongue.”
I shivered and Fyfe swallowed my gasp of want to give me another brain-fogging, mind-blowing, scorching kiss. God, no one kissed like him!
He was hard and I undulated against him as he ground his jersey-covered cock against me. My hands explored his taut body over the soft material of his T-shirt, and I desperately wanted to rip everything off him but even more desperately wanted my stupid dungarees off so I could feel him.
I panted for breath, my body trembling with need, my knickers damp with arousal.
As if he’d read my mind, Fyfe held my gaze as he unclipped my dungarees.
The least sexy thing I could be wearing right now.
Fyfe didn’t seem to think so. He appeared half-starved as he yanked them down and pulled them off, one leg after the other.
I sat atop his dining table in just my tank top and knickers.
Fyfe curled his fingers through my underwear, placing his palm over my pussy, cupping me. I gasped at the tantalizing sensation as he ground his palm against me, fingers flexing on my lower belly as he found me wet.
“Is this for me?” he asked hoarsely. “Just mine, Eilidh?”
The possessive touch was not something I ever thought I’d find sexy because I’d only ever belonged to myself. But I realized it was different when you wanted to belong to someone else. When that someone wanted you to belong to them, it was thrilling. I got off on it.
I sat up, blood rushing in my ears as I cupped his crotch. “Is this mine?”
He groaned and nodded, eyelashes fluttering. “Baby, it belongs only to you.”
I released him to cover the hand he had pressed between my legs. “Then this is yours.”
Fyfe kissed me again like he needed me to breathe. No one had ever kissed me like that. Like I was … essential.
He only broke the kiss to whip my underwear down my legs. His expression had hardened with want and I knew his patience had snapped. My lower belly squeezed with anticipation. I raised my arms to let him haul my tank top off and as he threw it away, I unclipped my bra and shrugged out of it.
“Fuck me,” Fyfe muttered as he lifted my breasts into his palms, and a shiver skated down my spine. I moaned as he gently caressed and squeezed my tits. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Bone-deep beauty.” His lips hovered over mine. “I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”
“Fyfe … I need you.”
He gave me a wicked smile and pulled my arse along the table until I was almost hanging off it and then he pushed my thighs apart. Fyfe lowered to his knees and I groaned. “Yes, yes …”
Fyfe smoothed his hands along my inner thighs, gazing up at me with that cocky smirk. “Patience, baby.”
“Fyfe Moray, you better put your mouth on me right now or I might just come without you.”
His rumble of laughter blew across my pussy.
I lifted my hips, my fingers curling into the edge of the table. “Please.”
In answer, Fyfe’s tongue explored me in a long, slow lick up to my clit.
I groaned as sensation spiked down all four limbs.
Arousal tightened in exquisite need low in my belly as my heart pounded.
My gaze dropped to his, our eyes locking.
Excitement shuddered through me at this fantasy brought to life.
Fyfe Moray’s handsome face buried between my legs.
His fingers dug into my thighs as he licked and sucked at my clit.
Just when I would be on the precipice of coming, Fyfe would abandon my clit to push his tongue inside me.
He closed his eyes, his grip tightening, and I felt that inner tension grow even tauter at the sight of him tongue-fucking me like he was in ecstasy.
Then he returned to that bundle of tormented nerves at my apex, drawing my clit between his tongue and teeth and sucking hard.
My body tensed, my thighs closing on him, my chest heaving and shuddering as the sensation spiraled toward explosion.
My cries filled his house as I arched my back, my fingers threading through his silky thick hair to hold on. “Fyfe! Oh god, oh god, oh, ohhh!”
He growled at the tug on his hair as I shattered. I shuddered and shook against his mouth as he lapped up every drop of my orgasm.
When I opened my eyes, Fyfe stood, wiping his mouth with the bottom of his T-shirt. He was visibly very, very hard in his joggers and he looked ready to fuck me until I came a million times over.
I was still trying to catch my breath and hold myself up as he gripped my hips and growled against my lips, “Now we’re going to my bedroom so you can ride my face before I ride you hard and good.”
Surprise flew through me and I gasped.
Fyfe’s eyes narrowed. “What? I thought you liked the dirty talk?”
I swallowed, disbelieving … but … “I do. I do … but … I had a dream. A sex dream.”
His eyebrows rose. “Hopefully about me.”
I grimaced. “Of course about you. It was the night after we kissed at my place.”
“And?”
“It was so vivid, Fyfe. Like, I could have sworn it was real it was so vivid.”
“I would have remembered sex with you, sweetheart,” he said gently.
I smiled, reaching to cup his face. “I know. It was just a visceral sex dream … in which I rode your face and then you fucked me. And I thought it was just my fantasy … not … not a premonition.”
He grinned, a secretive smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Baby, do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about you riding my face?”
“Seriously?”
“But to be fair, I’ve pretty much fantasized about taking you in every sexual position known to man.”
I shivered, sliding my arms around his neck. “Well, that’s a lot of positions to get through. We should probably get started.”