15. Isla
ISLA
“You’ll never guess what just landed in my inbox!” Locke announced, walking through the front door of the inn. He was beaming. No, not just beaming. The man was glowing. He pressed his hands to the front of the check-in desk, looking like he wanted to leap over it.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” I said. “What is it?”
“The paperwork for the property!”
I dropped the file I’d been holding. “Holy shit, Dad sent it? Are you serious?” I hurried around the desk, throwing myself into his arms as elation filled me. “Oh my God!” I pulled back, looking into those gray eyes I’d become so fond of recently. “We did it? It’s actually ours?”
Locke’s hands ran up my forearms, over my elbows, and curled around my shoulders, pulling me into another warm embrace. “He’s making the official press announcement this afternoon,” Locke murmured into my hair. “But it’s done. The paperwork is signed. The deed has changed hands.”
My pulse skipped in my chest. I couldn’t believe we were going to get to restore my childhood home. Hell, next spring I’d be able to take our child on walks down those same trails I’d walked hundreds of times with my mom.
“What’s all the shrieking about?” Maisie asked, walking into the lobby with a stack of freshly laundered towels. “Please tell me someone has good news?”
“Dad signed over the property,” I told her.
“The Highland Haven is officially coming to Braeburn,” Locke said. Maisie wrinkled her nose, and he laughed. “I’m still workshopping the name.”
“Yeah, you keep at it,” she said. “But you guys, this really is incredible news.” She tilted her head, regarding us. “I’m just buzzing for you. And I’m glad you can really stick it to Declan now.”
I huffed a laugh. If I was lucky, I’d never have to see the guy again. I was more than happy to have my last view of him be Locke putting him in his place. My heart did a little jig every time I replayed it in my head.
“We have to celebrate,” Locke was saying as I broke from my thoughts. “Let me take you to London today.”
“What?” I said, pulling out of his arms. I laughed awkwardly. “I can’t just take off to London.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Just a quick dinner.” He checked his watch. “If we leave now, I’ll have you back before bedtime.”
“Because I have room turnovers happening today and a bunch of guests showing up tomorrow, and I can’t just leave,” I said, trying to figure out how it would be possible to get us to London and back before bed. Even the fast train from Edinburgh took four hours.
“No, you should go,” Maisie insisted. “I’ve got things handled here.”
“Mase,” I said, laughing uncertainly. “That’s very nice but—”
“I’m serious,” she said. “If I’ve learned anything after all these years of marriage, it’s that you have to make the time to celebrate your triumphs. So go. Have a great time. I’ll make sure we’re prepped for tomorrow.”
Locke squeezed my hip expectantly.
“Oh, all right,” I said. “But I will be making this up to you.”
Maisie waved me off, carrying the towels toward the stairs. “Have fun!”
“Give me five minutes to change?” I said to Locke.
He nodded and I hurried to my room, changed into nice jeans, grabbed my purse, and met him back in the lobby. “So, how are we getting there?” I asked.
Locke just grinned at me, mischief flashing across his face. “Did you know Lochbrae has a private runway?”
We were flying.
That’s how Locke was getting us to London. But not just flying. We were borrowing Weston’s private jet because apparently Locke’s jet was getting refurbished at an aviation depot near Oxfordshire.
I tried not to think too hard about any of that because it made my brain ache.
I did, however, let myself enjoy the moment, giggling as I was handed a fancy mocktail by the lovely flight attendant.
Might as well make the most of the experience.
Who the hell knew when I was going to be on a private jet again?
“How long is the flight?” I asked.
“A little over an hour,” Locke said. “If I knew how much you’d enjoy yourself, I would have asked Weston to let me borrow the jet ages ago.”
Dad might not have liked flashy displays of wealth, and I was inclined to agree most of the time, but sometimes—sometimes—a girl liked to be spoiled.
But this wasn’t even about being spoiled.
This was about enjoying the win. “I just want to remember this moment,” I told him, “so that when our child is old enough, we can tell them all about how Mom and Dad secured the property deal and built something special to help Braeburn.”
Locke sipped his own drink. “I’m going to tell them about how I had to fight off your arse of an ex.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, there was no actual fighting involved.”
“I rode up like a knight on a white horse.”
I snorted. “Sure, you did.”
“Facing off against a dragon.”
“If anything, Declan’s more of a worm.”
“I’ll say,” Locke muttered.
I shot him a grin just as the flight attendant came over to offer me a selection of gourmet finger foods. Locke laughed at the way my eyes lit up. “The baby wants snacks, okay?” I told him.
He reached over and rubbed my leg. “The baby can have all the snacks it desires.”
The rest of the flight passed by quickly, and I watched out the window as we touched down at a private terminal at Heathrow Airport.
Locke had a car waiting for us, and we left right from the tarmac for the city. I can’t lie; it was really great to have an airport experience in London that didn’t end in a thirty-minute tube ride just to get into the city.
I leaned back against the car’s leather interior. “Last time I made this journey, I had so much baggage that my carry-on slipped from my hand on one of the escalators coming out of the underground and almost wiped out an elderly couple.”
Locke covered his hand with his face, his shoulders shaking.
“It wasn’t funny,” I insisted. “I was traumatized. They were really old.”
“I know, I’m trying not to laugh at you almost causing a national emergency.”
I hummed. The crowds coming out of the underground were something out of a horror movie. I could have wiped out a quarter of London with my bag. “So where are you taking us?”
“I have some ideas for dinner,” he admitted. “But was there anything you wanted to do before that?” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got some time to kill.”
Excitement rushed through me. “Oh my God, you know what I’ve always wanted?”
“What?”
“Those giant chocolate-covered strawberries they sell at Borough Market.”
Locke groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You must be taking the piss. Of all the things to do in London, you want the gimmicky tourist attraction?”
“You mean the delicious tourist attraction.” I pouted playfully, rubbing my stomach. “The baby wants it. And you said—”
“The baby can have whatever its little heart desires,” he agreed. “All right.” Locke lowered the window between us and the driver. “To Borough Market, please.” He turned, giving me the kind of look that set my skin on fire, and I tried not to overthink that as we made our way to Southwark.
Once we arrived, Locke and I went straight to Turnips, the greengrocer stall inside the market that sold the strawberries. We bought a cup to share, though I mostly devoured them myself, with Locke teasingly licking chocolate from my finger when I offered him a berry.
I swallowed down my gasp and covered my blush by dragging him all over the market, exploring each and every one of the food vendors.
Once we were done there, we wandered down a side street, finding a few cute children’s boutiques.
I picked out a couple of baby-friendly board books of bedtime stories, and Locke found a silver rattle that reminded him of the one he’d had as a baby.
He bought that despite me insisting it was too expensive.
“The baby gets whatever its little heart desires,” he whispered to me.
“I don’t think the baby knows what sterling silver is.” My stomach growled. “But the baby definitely wants to know when you’re taking us to dinner.”
He laughed and took my hand, sweeping me off to a place called Mira’s, a Michelin-star restaurant in Notting Hill.
By the time we were done there, I was so stuffed with deliciousness that I swore I’d never eat again.
But by the time we got back to the plane, I was peckish and agreed the moment the flight attendant offered me some ice cream not long after takeoff.
“I am astounded,” Locke said. “You must be growing a giant in there. Or maybe a black hole.”
“I mean, we walked off a bit of the meal afterward,” I argued. I licked the back of my spoon, enjoying the flavor. “God, they put the ice cream of the gods on private jets. I need an entire tub of this French vanilla.”
By the time we’d landed and made our way back to the inn, Locke had sourced the ice cream brand and ordered me a crate of it. “Should be here by the end of the week,” he said, getting out of his Bentley and walking me to the door.
I shook my head at him, standing in the halo of light coming off the Deerhound. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“When I said whatever the baby wants,” he whispered, staring down at me, “I really meant whatever you want.” His gaze was sincere and teasing all at once, and something fluttered in my gut.
It was affection, and appreciation—and most of all, it was desire.
For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel the need to stamp that out. Instead, I savored it.
I stepped toward him, my gaze flickering from his lips, beckoning for me to taste them, to his eyes. “And what if I want something more than ice cream?”
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“Yes to that too,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me.
It was soft at first, but as my hand curled its way around his neck and his hand fisted in my shirt, it quickly became passionate.
A moan slipped up my throat, tumbling out as Locke grabbed my ass.
“Bed?” I gasped, breaking away. I shook off the heady daze long enough to gesture at the inn.
“Yes,” Locke said, the sheer want in his voice sending shivers racing across my body.
I latched onto his hand, taking him around the back of the inn, slipping through the kitchen door. I led us down a dimly lit hall on the first floor to my room. Once inside, I closed the door and flicked on a lamp in the corner of the room.
I could just make out the hungry look in Locke’s eyes before he closed the distance, pulling me into another heated kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the vow renewal. We’d been strangers back then. Everything was different now. The feelings. The way my heart thundered in my chest.
This wasn’t just sex with some random one-night stand.
This was Locke.
My Locke?
“Can I take this off you?” he asked. I nodded, eagerly helping him get my shirt over my head. As we undressed each other, every touch felt heightened. It all meant more, somehow.
“Was that just your stomach growling?” he said, shooting me a cheeky grin.
I laughed. “No,” I lied.
It growled again as my legs bumped up against the bed, but food was the absolute last thing on my mind as Locke sank to his knees in front of me, hands on my waist. I let my fingers feather through his dark hair as he regarded my belly, gently turning me left and right, admiring.
My pulse stuttered.
There was barely anything to see there. But you wouldn’t have known that from the look of sheer awe on Locke’s face.
He pressed a kiss near my belly button, tilting up to look at me, those gray eyes like glass in the soft light. “You’re beautiful.”
“So you keep saying. But pretty soon my stomach is going to be sticking out so far, I won’t be able to see my feet.”
“You’ll always be beautiful,” he insisted, nudging me back onto the bed.
I sat down, catching my lip between my teeth, trying to keep my breathing steady as anticipation coursed through me.
He took my knees in his hands, slowly spreading my legs as he kissed both joints.
Then he worked his way up my thighs. I shivered as his facial hair tickled my skin.
By the time he reached that space between my thighs, my chest was heaving.
“Locke,” I gasped.
“Yes?”
“Please,” was all I could manage. And when he pressed his lips to my clit, my head dropped back with a groan. I flopped back against the comforter, bursts of pure pleasure sparking like stars behind my eyes.
Locke took his time, experimenting with different techniques, figuring out just how to drive me crazy with his tongue on my clit, finally settling on alternating between flicking and sucking. He worked me toward a frenzy, and I was just about to reach my peak when he abruptly backed off.
“Locke,” I groaned, sinking my hand into his hair. “Don’t tease me.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“You,” I gasped. “Ugh…” My hips bucked against his tongue, chasing my release. “Just you. Please.”
“Say it,” he growled, the sound rumbling through me, tightening the coils of pleasure in my gut.
“Fuck me,” I begged, and Locke did, flattening his tongue against my clit and sinking two fingers into me, pumping in and out as I moaned his name. I came undone in a trembling mess.
The orgasm dragged on for what felt like forever, and I gasped, latching onto Locke and clinging tightly as he crawled up my body.
Sparks of rich sensation continued to ricochet down my legs, but there was something else there too.
A needier hunger. I reached for his cock, guiding it between my legs.
“Fuck me,” I repeated, cradling him between my thighs.
God, I wanted him. I wanted to be filled.
I wanted to hear him gasping my name as he chased his own orgasm.
Locke started moving, slowly at first. But I didn’t want to go slowly. I moaned, responding to that coiling pressure inside me again. I wanted fast. I wanted hot. I wanted…I latched tighter onto his shoulders, flicking my hips to meet his thrusts.
Locke got the hint, speeding up, the bed creaking beneath us as he sank into me, a little deeper with each thrust. I closed my eyes, letting the sensations rocket through me, letting his panting breaths fill my ear, and then, suddenly, another orgasm surged through me.
“Oh, oh!” I shouted as the pleasure overwhelmed me and my mind went fuzzy.
Locke grunted, his hips stilling as his own orgasm took over. When he slumped against me, I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders, determined to hold him as close as possible.
Gradually, our breathing evened out, and Locke rolled us, clutching me to his chest, leaving soft kisses along my brow as the weight of post-coital bliss dragged me into sleep.