Page 103 of The Highland Game

OMG, SassyLassie’s livestreams are THE BEST!

First he wins the race, and now he wins her heart? Someone stop this man!

SassyLassie + #TheHighlandFlash = couple goals

“Er . . . did you guys hear what we were just saying?” I ask the viewers.

YES! WE HEARD EVERYTHING!

I grin at the camera, rubbing the back of my neck like a proper daftie. “Wow. So now I’ve laid myself bare to you all literally and figuratively, huh?”

More comments fly in, too fast to read, though I catch plenty of laughing emojis, hearts, flames . . . and a fair few eggplants too.

“Wow. It’s really still working?” Maisie appears beside me on the screen—and in real life too, of course.

“Aye,” I confirm with a nod before turning my attention back to her followers. “Now, if you guys will excuse us, I really want to kiss this woman again. And since I’m sure you’ll agree we’ve both shared more than enough of ourselves today, I think it’s time to end this livestream so we can do that in private.” I wave at the camera.

Maisie waves too. “Bye, everyone!”

I tsk lightly. “Maisie, even I know you’re supposed to say, Don’t forget to like and subscribe!” And with that, I tap to end the stream.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MAISIE

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” I try to sound casual even though my heart is racing.

“Aye, it is. Can’t have you sneaking a peek. That would spoil the surprise.”

Jamie hasn’t even started painting me yet, but I’m already a live wire, every nerve sparking in suspense, waiting for that first stroke. My heart is pounding—I suppose it would be weird if it wasn’t, given I’m lying here naked, blindfolded, and tied to the bed.

“Besides,” Jamie continues, “depriving one sense makes the others stronger.” He leans close so that I can feel his breath on my ear. “I reckon you’re hanging on every word I say. And”—his lips brush my throat, soft as a whisper—“what about that kiss, eh? I bet you really felt it.”

My breath catches. “I . . . I did. But, you know, being tied up and naked like this . . . it requires a lot of trust.”

“Aye, it does. But you trust me, right?”

I give the silky scarf knotted around my wrists a little twist and pull, but the headboard doesn’t so much as creak. I’m well and truly stuck, my body stretched out at his mercy. Aye, I’m nervous, but it’s also not exactly a bad place to be.

“I suppose I do—no, I do trust you. But . . . when it’s your turn? Will you let me blindfold you, tie you up, and strip you naked?”

“Of course. But for now I really need to be getting on with my masterpiece. Are you ready?”

I swallow and nod.

He begins at my neck, the first stroke soft and ticklish, like a feather drifting across my skin. The cool paint contrasts with the warmth of Jamie’s body as he leans close, his breath teasing my collarbone. My senses are on overdrive, every brushstroke magnified, like ripples spreading through a still pond. He trails the brush down my throat, and my back arches instinctively when he guides it lower, tracing a path between my breasts.

“How does that feel?” he murmurs.

“Good!” It comes out as little more than a breathless whisper.

He traces a lazy circle around my left nipple then flicks the tip of the brush over the sensitive peak in barely-there strokes, coaxing it to tighten. Then, with tantalising precision, he gives my right nipple the same exquisite treatment.

Jamie lingers at my chest a while longer before sweeping the brush in a slow, deliberate descent and swirling it around my belly button. The sensation sends an unexpected shiver rippling through me.

“Ticklish, are we?” he asks, proceeding to dip the brush into the shallow hollow of my navel.

I let out a shaky laugh that turns into a gasp when he lingers there, drawing lazy spirals that make my stomach tighten and quiver. My toes curl involuntarily.