We hadn’t even discussed a late lunch, so the fact that Kayla is already opening up to Amara and inviting her in warms my heart like a tonic.

“Thanks,” Amara says. “I’m good though. Going to head back to work. Maybe tomorrow, Lachlan. You can bring her by and show her what we do.”

“Aye,” I agree. “Before practice. That would be perfect.”

She waves goodbye and hurries off. I know that she doesn’t have to go back to work until later, so I get the impression that she’s trying to give us some alone time. I guess I am in just a towel.

I peer down at Kayla. “So about that lunch,” I say. “What other plans do you have in store for us?”

She gives me a grin and a saucy tilt to her head. “Not telling,” she says. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

She sashays her way into the drawing room and I watch her go.

Though she’s trying to look seductive, shaking that delectable peach-shaped bottom of hers, it only lasts about two seconds before Lionel comes bounding out of nowhere, jumping up on her legs, and enveloping her in a flurry of kisses.

She yelps, and if she was ever fearful, it’s faded into laughter. Lionel is merciless in his love and need for affection, and Kayla shrieks playfully as he chases her around the room, tongue hanging out if his mouth, wanting nothing from her but attention.

I know how you feel, old friend, I think to myself before following suit and joining the chase.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kayla

I’m dreaming. I’m drowning. Everything is wet.

My face is wet.

Smelly.

Dog breath.

I flinch, fully coming awake just in time to see a long pink tongue slide over my face, leaving a trail of drool behind.

“Oy, Lionel,” Lachlan mumbles, throwing his arm out and pulling the dog away from my face and back in between us. “Have some manners.”

I slowly sit up, running my hand over my cheek and wiping the dog drool off of me. I look down at Lachlan who’s holding Lionel in a hug and grinning sheepishly up at me.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “He likes to wake you up with kisses.”

I raise my brow, totally fucking charmed by the sight of Lachlan and his tattoos and muscles, holding the sweetest, drooling dog against him, nestled in the white sheets. “I’m not complaining, but I would rather you wake me up with kisses instead.”

He grins at me, looking absolutely adorable, a lock of bed-mussed hair flopping over his forehead. “That can be arranged.”

I already arranged it last night. Though somehow I was able to make it through the day and most of the evening, when we turned in at eleven o’clock after taking Emily and Lionel for their last walk around the quaint neighborhood, I was absolutely exhausted. Despite that, I woke up at three a.m., wide-eyed and ready to go. It probably hadn’t been such a good idea to take that nap, but I don’t regret the sex it led to after. And, of course, when it’s the middle of the night and you have a Scottish sex god in bed with you, you wake him up with a blow job.

Thankfully Lionel wasn’t in bed with us at the time. He must have snuck in when we were both sated and passed out.

Emily barks from the other room, and that steals Lionel’s full attention. His ears perk up and his forehead wrinkles in the exact same way that his master’s often does, and he jumps off the bed, burning it into the living room.

“You can never sleep in with dogs,” Lachlan says, his voice still sleepy in that very sexy way of his. “Which was fine until you came into the picture. Now I think lying in bed with you in the mornings is the best part of the day.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I say softly. I take the opportunity to lie back down, pulling the soft covers over me and settling into my favorite spot, the nook between his arm and his side. I place my fingers on his broad chest, trailing them over his tattoos. I feel like I’ll forever be marveling at what a perfect specimen of a man he is. Every second that ticks past, I’m looking at him differently. Deeper. And now that I’m here, with him in his home, I don’t think there’s any hope for me.

Yesterday, when I woke up from my jet-lagged nap and found him crawling on top of me with that look in his eyes that wasn’t just about lust but something more profound, more real, what followed went beyond any fuck I’ve had before. It was raw and I was ravaged. I could feel his urgency with every touch of his hands, feel his heart beating like a wild beast. There was breathtaking honesty in the way he stared at me, as if I were gold dust, precious and able to blow away at a moment’s notice.

We made love. There was no other word for it, and while it used to make me cringe and laugh when other people used that term so casually, so cheesily, I finally got it. I understood it. It was lust and passion and burning desire for each other’s bodies, for the pleasure, but it was also feverish want for the person inside.

I didn’t just want Lachlan’s muscles, his lips, his endless skills beneath the sheets. I wanted him, every part of him. The dark bits that were hidden away and only hinted at by tattoos. I desired all of him, like a dying man desires one more breath.

I’d wanted to bring Lachlan to his knees, and while I could feel him yearning and yielding to me, I was going to my knees first. I had no idea how I was going to pick myself up in three weeks. No idea at all.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers into the top of my head, his fingers playing with my hair.

That you’re the first for everything, I think to myself. “Nothing,” I say.

“Ah,” he says. “I see.”

“I guess I’m just trying to get my head on straight.”

He squeezes his arm against me. I love it when he does that. I feel absolutely protected.

“If you’re anything like me, it’s going to take you a few days to adjust to the new time zone. I remember when I first traveled abroad to Australia for the Rugby World Cup, I was an absolute wreck. Couldn’t even tie my own laces. No wonder we lost.”

I smile against him, then turn it into a kiss, my lips brushing the side of his chest. “I have a hard time believing you could lose at anything.”

He grunts. “Then I shant ruin the pedestal you’ve placed me on, darling.”

I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat, his rhythmic stroking of my hair. I’m almost falling asleep again, dreams coming at me in dark flashes, wanting to bring me under, when his alarm goes off.

“Can’t we ignore it?” I mutter.

“We can ignore the alarm,” he says. He adjusts himself just as Lionel jumps on the bed, shuffling his way between us. “But we can’t ignore him.”

“I just want to sleep,” I say, seconds before I get a paw to the face.

“Aye,” he says, “but we have a big day.”

My tired brain jogs over the plans we’ve made. Or plans that he has made for me. He has rugby practice at two, and he wanted to bring me to the shelter beforehand and introduce me to the people that work there. I guess he feels bad about leaving me in the apartment with the dogs all day, though I honestly wouldn’t mind. Lionel is just a big suck and Emily is warming up to me more and more.

Plus Lachlan’s apartment is absolutely stunning. I never pegged him as someone who would live in such a gorgeous, airy, historical place, but even after glancing out the front window and gazing at all the other stone houses on the street, it’s obvious everyone here lives somewhat like this. It’s kind of like living in a sexier episode of Downton Abbey.

But Amara, who I met briefly yesterday, seems nice enough, albeit a little quiet, and I know Lachlan wants me to feel important and involved. The last thing I want is for him to worry.

Somehow the two of us manage to remove ourselves from bed. Lionel is running around the living room like a crazed beast, mouth open in a permanent, gummy smile. While Lachlan slips on running shoes, loose black drawstring pants, a white t-shirt, and a baseball cap, to take Lionel and Emily out for a quick walk, I putter around his sparse, elegant kitchen trying to figure out how to make a pot of coffee. I find a cupboard overflowing with stashes of tea, a small bag of coffee, and finally, a French press.