Chapter 19 All of This is Mine, Including You
ALL OF THIS IS MINE, INCLUDING YOU
Lachlan opens the door connecting our rooms and jerks to a stop as if colliding with a glass wall.
His reaction is more than I’d hoped for.
Lorna had laid out three outfits that were appropriate for the dinner, but I chose a wild card after overhearing Lachlan’s conversation with Wes.
It sounded like he was defending me. Does that mean some part of him cares?
His aqua eyes drink me in. The dress is sexy—even for me. I bet Beno?t chose it. He had picked out a few racy outfits for me to try on.
The nude lace dress is fitting and see-through with ruffles at the high collar, and the cap sleeves.
Underneath a nude silk slip, almost the same shade as my skin, hugs my body.
The low V-neck displays my ample cleavage, but I’m not as afraid to show it off, thanks to Lachlan.
The slip stops above my knees, and the lace ruffled hem falls to mid-calf.
It’s sexy but demure. I doubt it’s conservative enough for this dinner with these people.
He drags his tongue across his lower lip. “Turn.”
I do, slowly, and lift my hair in the back so he can see how low the slip falls to the top of my butt.
He hisses, sounding closer, and then he stands in front of me. His woodsy scent carries notes of the ocean. “You’re not wearing that.”
“It was in my closet with the clothes you provided. I don’t see what the problem is.”
He grips my arm but not painfully. “You love to test me.”
“I could take it off.” I’ll do it right here in front of him.
His intense stare shifts to something cunning. “I know what this is—you’re aching for what you denied yourself. I told you you would.”
It’s true. My lady parts are in heat. He worked me up, and I thought it would fade away. Instead, I’ve been thinking about him between my legs ever since. How would it feel? Would I like it? Would I want more?
That ghost of a smirk forms at the corner of his mouth. “Now you’ll have to wait until after dinner. We’re late.”
He guides me by the arm from the room and into the hallway.
His strong fingers on my skin aren’t helping my desire.
“How do you feel?” he asks when we reached the stairs and start the long descent.
So concerned. “I’m fine.”
“‘I’m fine’ can mean many things.”
“If you want to help me feel better…” I give him a seductive grin.
“You’ll get what you want once we talk. You’ll get my mouth between your pretty thighs while I devour all that hot little pussy has to give. I’ll fuck you with my tongue and make you come so hard you’ll black out.”
My core clenches with desperate need for that. All of it.
His eyes shimmer. “Look at you, Cat-fiadhaich.”
That Scottish Gaelic will be the end of me.
I never knew a man with a British accent who speaks in Gaelic would be my wildest fantasy come true.
How could I? Does one exist other than Lachlan?
The composed businessman hiding tattoos under his suit and a sculpted body I want to explore—for learning purposes only—is a dangerous combination.
Maybe I should call Tinsley. I could keep the bulk of what’s happening to me from her.
She wouldn’t pry. We’re not close like me and Adelaide, who would sniff out something is off.
When we last spoke, I asked Tinsley for ideas on where to take Adelaide for a fun weekend.
The Masquerade nightclub was the last time I was free.
But how free was I really? I couldn’t make out with a guy beyond kissing.
I was penniless. Homeless. A dropout. Now, I’m married and live in a castle.
I have a room fit for a queen, and a sexy beast of a husband who wants to know my sorrows and fuck me into oblivion. When put like that, I’m up, not down.
Thoughts of my mom flicker in the back of my mind, but I push them aside, refusing to give them the spotlight. Not now.
Lachlan and I reach the second floor. I’m thankful for the stair runner cushioning my steps in these high heels. He releases my bicep and caresses the skin where it’s pink before taking my hand and placing it in the crook of his arm.
A large gallery stretches before us, filled with the kind of paintings you’d expect to see in a castle or a museum.
“Who’s going to be at dinner?” I ask, a bit nervous now that we’re closer.
“Everyone who lives here. Rory and Wes.”
I guess that means Kat doesn’t live here.
“You will sit directly beside me. Not by anyone else. Understand?”
Not by Rory he means. I half expect Wes to leave when he sees me.
Is it my American side that he hates or just Lachlan having a wife?
He said I’m a business deal, like I can’t or shouldn’t be anything more to Lachlan.
Part of me likes that Lachlan is interested in me.
Another part of me wants to give him the finger and escape back to some place where I can build my bookstore, drink tea, and reminisce with romance readers.
“Something has you aglow,” Lachlan says watching me. “I’ll want to know what that is too.”
He’s not supposed to be interested in what makes me happy. Men like him don’t care about that.
We pass under tall, stone-covered arches into an elegant dining room of silver and gold with a massive marble fireplace and rows of windows that reveal a dark night.
Whoever designed this space had impeccable, if not surprising, taste.
The table could easily accommodate twenty people.
Everything is set up at one end where two chairs are at the head.
Rory sits on one side and Wes on the other.
Two bottles of red wine are opened on the table next to a lavish charcuterie board.
“We snacked.” Rory stands in greeting. He gives me a closed-lip sweet smile. “You look lovely, Emery.” His gaze flits over my outfit and body.
Lachlan growls in his throat, which only makes Rory’s smile widen. He is no threat, but he loves to tease his older brother.
Wes also takes me in and seems angered by my appearance, similar to how Lachlan sometimes looks at me. But unlike my husband, there is no desire lurking in Wes’s gaze.
Lachlan shoots him a glare, and he stands. “Emery.” He nods.
An extra place setting is beside Wes. It gives Lachlan pause. He blinks then looks at his friend. “Is someone else dining with us?”
“Tessa,” he says. “She’s working here for the weekend, in case you forgot.”
“Where is she?” Lachlan pulls out a chair for me—the one closest to Rory.
I sit.
Wes says, “She got tired of waiting for dinner to start and left.”
Lachlan pushes me in and sits beside me. “I assumed she’d be staying at the distillery house. It’s more convenient to the office.”
“We”—Wes eyes me— “weren’t expected to be here.” He pours more red wine into his glass. “What I wouldn’t give for a scotch.”
At my confused expression, Rory says, “Scotches are for after dinner. In the cigar room.”
Dad did something similar. I fight to roll my eyes.
Staff begin clearing away the food and preparing to serve us.
“And what do the women do after dinner?” I ask, part out of curiosity and part mocking.
“When there are any, they do whatever they like.” Lachlan pulls my chair closer to his. Under the tablecloth, he rests his hand above my knee. The warmth of his palm penetrates through the thin lace of my dress.
Wes lets out an annoyed sigh, drawing Lachlan’s attention. “If a scotch will put you in a better mood, I’ll have one sent up immediately.”
My glass is filled with wine by an attendant and soup is served. It’s creamy but light with a vegetable and nutty flavor. I have no idea what it is other than delicious.
Wes gets his scotch, and the conversation eventually lightens with the help of Rory. They talk about playing rugby, and I learn how violent this game is. Football but without protection. Lachlan plays it too, although it sounds more like physical combat than a game.
These three can be brutes. You wouldn’t know it from their suits and otherwise professional appearance. Wes has a couple inches on Lachlan, standing at six-four maybe. I imagine he’s just as built underneath his clothes. Their muscles are deceiving. Makes me wonder if Rory is hiding a six pack too.
We dine on several small courses. Bread with sweet butter, a pastry appetizer, an artful salad, another bread and different spread.
The whole time, Lachlan has been inching his hand higher up my dress.
So much so I have to scoot forward until my stomach touches the table so no one will know.
I can’t exactly smack his hand away. I mean I could, but I don’t want to do that in his house in front of his family, staff, and friend who is being a bit difficult because of me.
Dinner is white fish with a cream sauce, artichoke, and sea asparagus. I taste wine and sage and find it absolutely divine. I also find it hard to sit still. Lachlan’s hand is under my dress now, and his finger is rubbing my very wet thong.
My breathing has shifted, and I feel flush. Damn Lachlan. He’s doing this to torture me for denying him and myself the pleasure of having him eat me out earlier.
Rory’s gaze narrows on me. “Your cheeks are red. You don’t have food allergies, do you?”
“No,” Lachlan answers.
I raise a brow at him and squeeze my thighs together, trying to crush his hand.
“You think I wouldn’t make it my business to know if my wife has food allergies?”
I set my napkin on the table and look at Rory. “Where can I find the bathroom—er, loo?” I test out their version of the word.
Lachlan grabs my crotch, giving my clit just enough pressure that I squeal before he slides his hand away. “I’ll show you.”
I clear my throat and make sure my skirt is down before standing. “Directions are fine.”
“It’s a big castle.”
“We haven’t had dessert,” Rory says as Lachlan guides me by the hand from the room.
“I’m about to,” Lachlan murmurs for only me to hear.
Once we’re around the corner in a hallway I haven’t been down yet, he asks, “Do you really have to pee?”