Page 59 of The Scot

“Your . . .” Roysa had turned. And was staring at his hardness with wide eyes.

“Cock, love. Aye, I know.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“If you’ll give me a moment.”

“Shall I . . .”

Damned if he didn’t look up, groaning.

“Nay,” he said, trying not to think of her hands on him. Or worse, her mouth. Closing his eyes, he saw a vision of her bent slightly over, hands gripping the table as she pressed her backside into him.

“Talk to me,” he blurted.

“Of?”

“Anything. Anything but this.”

Terric took a deep breath.

“Once, when I was a girl, my baby sister, Tilly, peed on my leg. I thought she had a covering on her bottom, but I was mistaken.”

Terric’s eyes flew open.

“Your sister peed on your leg? Whatever made you think of that?”

Roysa shrugged. “You seemed to be in pain. It was the first thing I thought of to distract you.”

“Being peed on?”

“Nay, my sister. As a babe. That particular memory just came into my head. But I assume ’tis difficult to have”—she pointed to his cock—“that. When thinking of a babe.”

It was the most outrageous of moments to realize it, but he could no longer deny it was true.

I love this woman.