Chapter 18 #2
“I am out here, Princess.” His voice is rough silk, threaded with amusement.
“Because I was worried that you might be…” He pauses and his lips twitch like he’s one second away from laughing at me.
“Out here, minding your own business, enjoying your holiday, and then, out of nowhere, the ground attacks you.”
Smug. Cocky. Bastard.
“You know, twist your ankle or something princess-like.”
I arch a brow, refusing to let him have the upper hand. Kane, the ever brooding, infuriating Highlander, who always looks like he's one bad mood away from breaking someone’s face, is rambling.
And it’s adorable in a way that makes my stomach clench.
He keeps talking, his fingers still grazing my cheek, but I’m not listening anymore. His voice is a hum in the background, drowned out by the heat of his touch.
“Then ye’d need help back to the castle.” His accent curls around each word, and it's extremely dangerous for all my lady parts.
“Can't have ye go missin’ on my watch. It’ll give us a bad name.”
His thumb brushes my cheek and I doubt he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s still too busy rambling about my ankle and imaginary distress.
But all I can focus on is his touch.
His presence is suffocating in a way that makes me want to drown in it. My body, on the other hand, has stopped giving a single damn about logic.
It doesn’t care about castles, or storms, or even my self-control.
All it wants is him.
And I know with humiliating certainty, that if his hand drifted any lower, he’d feel exactly what he’s doing to me.
The aching tension between my thighs and the pulse that refuses to be ignored, is all-consuming. And I don’t know how much longer I can fight it. My mind is losing ground to the pull of him, to the way his gaze darkens like he knows exactly how close I am to unraveling.
Shadows cut across his face when I look up, masking the tension coiled in his body.
His expression doesn't crack, but his fists curl and loosen, like the control costs him.
“You were worried about me?"
His entire body stiffens and the storm overhead is nothing compared to the one in his eyes.
“And yer wee ankles.”
Before I can decide whether to laugh or shove him, his lips are on mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s ravenous and desperate.
The force of it knocks the breath from my lungs, and a needy whimper escapes before I can stop it. The second it leaves my lips, he groans, like it’s the only sound he’s been waiting for.
His hands are everywhere—gripping, pulling, owning. The one on my face slides into my hair, tangling at the nape of my neck as he tilts my head back, taking full control of the kiss.
His tongue teases, then takes, sending a jolt down my spine. Whatever resistance I had, crumbles under his touch.
And I fucking melt.
My fingers fist in his soaked shirt, needy and shameless. It's the only way to keep up with the storm he’s unleashing between us.
He growls into my mouth, and I can feel his teeth graze my bottom lip. His grip on me tightens, anchoring me in place.
I press my body into his, chasing the friction, needing more. I barely register the chuckle that rumbles through his chest as his hands grip my waist with an ease that’s both possessive and claiming.
His mouth trails along my jaw, and his breath is hot against my damp skin. His lips pause at my ear. “Ye kiss like you’ve been waitin’ for me.”
Cocky bastard.
“Maybe I have,” I whisper.
That was the wrong thing to say. Or was it the right thing?
His hands are suddenly gripping my ass, lifting me like I weigh nothing, pressing me against his body. My legs wrap around his waist before I can think better of it. Gravity's a bitch, and I'm not about to fall on my face now.
I feel all him—thick and solid against me. Clothes or not, my body doesn't care about the technicality.
I choke on a gasp when the friction slams pleasure through my body, forcing me to arch into him.
“Christ,” he mutters, dropping his head to my shoulder. His grip tightens, and suddenly I'm not sure if he's holding me or holding himself together.
My nails sink into his back, trying to pull him closer, but he won't budge. Fine. I shift, rocking against him. His body locks up, and then his teeth sink into my shoulder. Probably to remind me exactly who I'm playing with.
His lips brush my ear. “Ye keep doin’ that, and I won’t stop.”
I try to clench my thighs together and he must see it on my face, because his grin twists into something that promises trouble.
He pulls back without warning, leaving me swaying like an idiot. My knees nearly give out, and of course, he's there to catch me. The ass probably enjoys it.
I should be pissed. I should shove him, call him out, demand he tell me why he’s always playing this game. But all I can think about is how fucking much I need him to touch me.
Despite the rain, my skin burns under his touch. Every second with him drags me deeper, until I'm not just in over my head—I'm drowning in him.
I need him closer, so I drag him to me. My lips crash into his, and my fingers sink into his soaked hair and yank him closer.
His hands are on me instantly, matching my hunger with his own. My tongue tangles with his, chasing the fire he keeps sparking in every nerve of my body.
The thunder blurs with the storm between us, while rain slides down our bodies. Lightning strikes close—it's so bright it feels like the air itself shatters. The boom that follows tears through me, snapping me back to reality.
I stumble away, gasping, while my pulse pounds in my ears.
“Come on!” He takes my hand. His voice is commanding, cutting through the chaos as we run for cover.
I don’t hesitate.
The rain falls harder, but he doesn’t let go. The canopy offers some relief, but it doesn’t matter, we’re soaked. My hoodie clings to me, and the cold rain is a cruel contrast to the heat still coursing through my veins.
I lean against a tree, catching my breath. A laugh spills out before I can stop it.
Kane is standing right by me, and to my surprise, he laughs, too.
It’s infuriating how good he looks right now. It's almost like the storm dressed him up just to ruin me.
The emotional whiplash that I get from this man, leaves me wrecked in every sense of the word.
He's always pushing my buttons, getting under my skin somehow, or twisting me into knots. Successfully, I might add.
Yet, he was the one who kissed me. And fuck, what a kiss. I feel… amazing.
I look up at him and I'm caught somewhere between awe and complete fucking destruction.
Without thinking, my eyes dip to his mouth, and I catch myself licking my lips.
Big mistake.
I look up and his eyes are glued to my mouth, tracking the movement. My pussy throbs in response.
The intensity in his expression is predatory.
“Princess.”
Neither of us move.
His voice alone is doing things I'll never admit out loud.
I straighten my spine, refusing to let him see how wrecked I already am and how much I want him to keep pulling me into his orbit.
I roll my eyes, “What? What did I do now?”
He gestures to the raging storm around us, and I can't tell if he's genuinely irritated.
“This. This is why you bein’ outside was a bad idea.”
I blink at him. What? “Are you serious right now?”
I take a step back into the storm, the rain soaking through me in seconds. The cold bites, but the jolt is exhilarating.
His brows furrow. “What the hell are ye doin’ now?”
I grin, holding out my arms, while rain drips down my face.
“This doesn’t feel like a bad idea at all.”
Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and let the storm consume me.
"If anything, it's probably the best idea I've had all week." I shout. “I can’t think of a better place to be than right here, in the middle of a thunderstorm.”
I put my hands back in my pockets and hold the stones. I can feel that same faint buzz, pulsing against my fingertips.
When I open my eyes I find Kane watching me. His gaze, as always, is unreadable. A sliver of embarrassment flickers through me, thinking I’ve said too much, or let him see too much of me.
I shake it off, schooling my features back into playful confidence. Because, you know what? I really don't care.
“Never mind,” I mutter.
His eyes flicker with confusion, but it's gone in an instant, but it still makes my chest tighten.
“Come out here!”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Then he sighs, stepping forward looking like a man walking into battle, not the rain.
“I’m wet enough, thank you,” he grumbles, but there’s amusement laced through his words.
Even soaked to the bone, he moves with purpose and control. Just when I thought he couldn't get any hotter…
“Don’t be a baby, Kane.” I tease.
The way his shirt clings to him leaves nothing to the imagination. He moves with that same lethal grace, like even the storm bends for him.
He towers over me, and I'm close enough to see the droplets of water sliding down his face, catching his lashes. “What for?”
“Because I want to stand out here longer,” I grin up at him. “And I don't want to get struck by lightning!”
He blinks, looking confused. “What?”
I take a slow step closer, daring him to back up. “You’re practically a leprechaun, which means you’re lucky! And I don’t want to get struck by lightning.”
His entire body goes still.
The look he gives me is priceless. Like he’s genuinely debating whether I’ve officially lost my mind or if I’ve just confirmed all his suspicions about me.
Then, to my absolute surprise, he bursts out laughing. Like I just shook something loose inside him.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh like this. And it’s completely devastating. How is that even possible?
Mental note, I need to start finding things wrong with Kane. ASAP.
“You know leprechauns are Irish, right?” He finally manages, running a hand through his soaked hair.
“Doesn’t Scotland have its own version of a leprechaun?”
I look over my shoulder and catch him mirroring me with his shoulders squared to the rain and his arms crossed.
I can't help but giggle.
His head tilts, just watching me.
“Maybe you should try it. You don’t have to do anything but feel."
I turn back to face the storm, closing my eyes, breathing in the smell of rain. There’s something about this place that feels alive. I’ve felt drawn here for years, but now that I'm here, everything about this place feels like magic.
“Sometimes I close my eyes, and just listen. Every sound, every breath, every flicker of light.”
I hesitate, peeking with one eye to gauge his reaction. This is usually where people start looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
Maybe an internal 'Is this woman completely coo-coo for cocoa puffs?.'.. or a 'How fast can I disappear without looking obvious?'
I pride myself on being able to read people. Their words might be polished, filtered bullshit. But faces don’t lie. They always give something away.
Kane's doesn't.
Without warning, he closes his eyes and tilts his face up toward the rain. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Is he… actually doing it?
My jaw almost hits the floor, and a laugh slips loose—cut short when he opens one eye, and lifts an eyebrow.
“What?” He genuinely looks confused now. “Am I doing it wrong?”
I'm completely floored. My brain scrambles for words, “Uh… no. You’re… doing great.”
Fantastic recovery, Raven. Absolutely award-winning. Heat rushes to my face, and I whip my head back toward the sky.
Who cares if he’s standing next to you? Or that his muscles are on full display, looking like every reckless decision I’ve ever wanted to make. Or that we just made out…
I take a slow breath, letting the storm calm my nerves. The low rumble of thunder rolls through the air, and it's a perfect distraction from the man currently taking up far too much space in my brain.
I let myself feel all of it. The storm. This place. And even the beautiful, annoying man standing next to me.
Minutes pass or maybe it was just seconds. But my heart finally steadies and my thoughts are no longer spinning out of control.
I open my eyes, and of course, he’s staring at me, again. My pulse skips. “How did it go? Did you feel anything?”
I’m half expecting him to shrug it off, and dodge with some sarcastic comment, but part of me wonders if he actually tried it. Detective Raven is officially on the case.
At first, he looks like he’s going to brush it off. “I felt… weird at first,” he admits, which is already more than I expected. “But then… I heard this buzzing in the air, but it also felt like it was under my skin. And the rain on my face, it was… refreshing.”
I blink, and for a second, I don’t even know what to say. Did he actually mean that? Kane, the man who treats emotions like a liability, just admitted something that sounded almost poetic.
Before I can process it fully, he surprises me again and keeps talking. “When I closed my eyes, it was like I could feel every drop of rain, every gust of wind. The sound of the rain, the rumble of the thunder. It felt alive, like everything around me was breathing.”
He pauses, looking at me. There's a rare openness on his face. “There’s a lot you can feel with this place, but I can’t say I've ever experienced that.”
I stare at him, with my mouth open, floored that he just said that. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head out here?”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Why? Because I said something deeper than ‘get on your knees’?”
I nearly choke, but I'm going to choose to ignore that, or we're both in trouble. “I don’t know, Kane, you might just have a poet’s soul under all that broody intimidation.”
He lets out a loud breath, like he’s already regretting saying anything. “Or maybe I was just standing in the rain like an idiot and got caught up in the moment.”
“Oh no, don’t backtrack now,” I tease, nudging his arm. “You were practically two seconds away from writing a sonnet about the storm.”
He narrows his eyes, but his lips twitch. “Aye, well, don’t let it go to yer head, Princess.”
I can’t stop the grin from forming, “Too late.”
For a fleeting moment, he’s not just the cocky, infuriating man who kisses like he owns the air I breathe. He’s thoughtful, charming… maybe even a little funny.
But perfect or not, he’s also a man. With a penis. A very nice one, probably. Not that I’m going to think about that.
Kane equals friend zone for life.
I fold my arms over my chest and let out a slow breath, trying to steady the mess of emotions swirling around trying to break free. I need to remember the rules I’ve set for myself, even if this storm, and this man, seem hellbent on washing them away.