21. Chapter 21 #2
I huff out an exaggerated sigh but can’t help but smile as I oblige.
“The current iteration of Inverness Castle was built in 1836 to serve as a prison and judicial court, but there’s been some form of military fortification on the site since the eleventh century.
The renovations will turn the castle into a community center with various historical exhibits that tell the story of the Highlands. It should open next year.”
“We should come back when it does,” he says.
More time with Beau? Absolutely. I’ll take him wherever he wants to go.
We pass the castle and stroll along the river, the sound of water rushing over stone growing louder as the path curves along the bank. I point out places that hold pieces of the city’s history while we walk.
We get to the Ness Islands, small wooded isles in the middle of the river, reached by Victorian-era suspension bridges.
“Can we go over?” he asks.
“Of course,” I say. “The path leads all the way across the river.”
He’s giddy on the walk, the wooden planks creaking as he bounds across them, then we reach one of the larger bridges decorated with garland and lights for the holidays.
He stops halfway across and rests his hands on the railing, gazing out over the water, the cold air turning his breath into pale clouds.
“God, it’s beautiful here.” He shifts beside me, glancing in my direction before looking back toward the river again, like he’s working up the nerve to say something.
I put my forearms on the bridge’s railing, too, and hum in agreement. “I grew up coming here with my family, then was here for uni, but this city never loses its luster for me.”
“Tell me more about you and Inverness,” he says, his voice quieter now.
He wants to hear more of my history, which sends a tingle down my spine.
“I used to come here as a lad with my parents,” I say, “to stock up on groceries and other supplies we couldn’t get in the village, and I remember thinking it was such a big city. I had birthdays here, too. Special occasions always meant dinner in town.”
He nods along, smiling as I tell him more.
“I came here for university as well,” I say.
“I spent more time in the library than I probably should admit, but Freya made sure I didn’t become a complete hermit.
She’d show up most weekends and drag me out of my dormitory.
” I shake my head at the memories. “Those nights usually involved far too much drinking, the occasional karaoke duet, and sometimes questionable decisions with even more questionable men.”
The river and bridge and lights all become the backdrop to my rambling, and when I finally glance over at him, he’s holding his phone up, snapping pictures of me again.
I roll my eyes. “More headshots for my dating profile?”
“No.” The word comes out quietly. Beau lowers his phone, swallowing hard, his distinct Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have a dating profile.”
My heart stutters. I turn toward him fully, buying myself a moment to construct a reply, but the words refuse to arrange themselves into anything sensible. Instead I retreat to the easy banter we’ve been trading all evening.
“Oh, you want me to delete it?” I ask, forcing a chuckle.
“Yes,” he says, “and I want to be the reason you do.”
My breath catches, and his eyes search mine. For the first time in a long time, he renders me speechless. I’m about to ask for clarification because there’s no fucking way that he means what I think he means—
“Can I kiss you?”
The question lands between us like a spark.
But I must have heard him wrong. Beau can’t possibly want to kiss me. Given our fraught history. My mind scrambles for another explanation. I definitely misheard… didn’t I?
His eyes flick to my lips. He’s still watching me. Still waiting. Fuck, he’s serious. I feel myself nodding. Yes. Definitely yes. I’ve wanted this for so long and never thought it would happen.
He leans toward me, and I close my eyes as he gets closer, sure he’ll change his mind.
Then his lips are on mine, and I’m on fire.
Warmth spreads through me, and it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
The world narrows to the pressure of his mouth on mine.
The kiss is soft at first. Tentative, careful, like he’s still asking if this is okay. I answer the only way I can.
My hands slide up to his chest, spreading across the broad planes of his pecs. His heart is pounding hard, his pulse matching the frantic beat of my own.
I trail my hands lower, down the powerful lines of his torso until I reach his lean waist. I grab his coat on both sides, pulling him closer, needing the full press of his body against me. My lips part, and his tongue skates over them.
God, he’s good.
He groans into my mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing over mine. I’m rock hard, and clearly, so is he. He grips my hips with strong hands, stopping me from grinding against him; the restraint only makes me want it more, and a rough sound escapes me before I can stop it.