Page 82 of The Highland Game

His mouth crashes onto mine with raw intensity, silencing everything but the roaring wildfire spreading through me. The kiss is fierce and frenzied: all clashing tongues and teeth grazing lips as though we’re both trying to win some unspoken battle neither of us intends to lose.

My fingers tangle into his hair—soft but thick beneath my touch—as his hands grip my waist firmly, heat flaring where he touches me.

For one blissful eternity we’re utterly consumed . . . until Jamie tears himself away first with a sharp inhale that borders on a growl.

“We can’t argue here,” he mutters hoarsely. His tone is rough-edged—almost feral—as though barely restraining himself from diving back in for more. “It’s unprofessional. A customer might overhear us.”

“Well, where do you suggest we argue then?” I’m practically panting.

“My room.” His voice drops lower, darker. “I can really give you a piece of my mind up there.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Jamie leads the way and I follow behind, the trek up two flights of stairs giving me ample opportunity to admire the way his jeans hug his arse, taut and infuriatingly perfect, and how his navy polo shirt showcases the lean muscle of his forearms and sexy veins.

When we reach his floor, he holds his door open and stands aside, his body radiating heat as I brush past him. My eyes sweep over the room—an unmade but inviting double bed, cool-looking books on a shelf, gaming equipment on his desk. That’s all I manage to register before the door clicks shut and Jamie spins me around, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss so searing it makes my pulse thunder and rational thought evaporate.

I return Jamie’s kiss with equal fervour, sliding my hands to his arse and giving each cheek a good, hard squeeze. He groans against my mouth, and the sound shoots straight through me, igniting every nerve. The kiss grows more heated, both of us pouring all that pent-up tension into it.

When we finally break apart for air, I waste no time lifting Jamie’s polo, exposing his abs first—taut, with just enough definition to look utterly lickable. A light dusting of dark hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath his jeans. I tug the polo up and over his head, his chest coming into full view—broad enough to make me swallow hard with a tempting sprinkle of hair across it.

“I heard you’ve been putting in some effort at the gym.” I bite my lip. “It’s paying off.”

I trail my fingers over his chest, exploring each ridge and curve of muscle like I’m following a map leading straight to temptation. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and his hair tickles my palm. My fingers brush over one small, firm nipple, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. Oh? That got a reaction. I do it again—just to see—and sure enough, his body tenses under my touch. I let my hand slide lower, and his abs tighten beneath it. Slowly I follow the faint line of hair below his navel with the tip of one finger, tracing it until it disappears beneath his belt. By the time I reach for the buckle, Jamie is watching me like a man on the brink. And yet when I start to undo it⁠—

“Wait!” His breaths come fast and shallow. “I don’t want this to be like last time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I . . . want us to take our time.”

Something flutters in my chest. “Oh.”

Jamie’s thumb lightly traces my bottom lip, his eyes searching mine. “Is that okay?”

I nod. His answering smile is tender. He leans back in for another kiss, and this time it’s slower, deeper—and somehow it sends me reeling even more than before.

Eventually his hands glide under my top, warm against my skin, urging me to lift my arms so he can remove it.

I comply without a second thought, heat pooling in my belly as his gaze roams over me, lingering on my lacy bralette. “You look . . .” His Adam’s apple bobs, his voice husky and roughened with desire. “Delicious.”

My cheeks flame at the rawness of his words, but there’s no time to feel self-conscious. His fingers fumble with the clasp at my back. I reach behind to help him out, unhooking it myself and letting the bra fall silently to the floor.

Jamie drinks me in, his jaw tightening, his gaze shameless and scorching enough to make my skin prickle with awareness. His large hands come up to cup my breasts, the heat of his palms seeping into me, his thumbs starting a slow, teasing rhythm over my nipples. The sensation sends a delicious shiver skimming down my spine, each gentle stroke making it harder to breathe steadily.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, like I’m some kind of rare work of art he can’t look away from. Then he dips down, capturing one taut peak with his mouth. The heat of him—the wet warmth of his tongue against such a sensitive spot—has me gasping before I can stop myself. My fingers tangle reflexively in his hair as he alternates between soft flicks and gentle sucks that make sparks shoot straight to my core.

My other nipple receives the same treatment, then Jamie stands upright again and draws me fully into his arms until we’re pressed together, bare skin to bare skin.

The contact is electric. Everywhere we touch feels alive—his heartbeat thunderous against mine, his warmth seeping into me like molten fire. One strong hand splays across the small of my back while the other cradles my jaw, tipping my face up so our eyes meet.

“You drive me crazy,” he says quietly, the words edged with restraint that only makes them hit harder.

We linger like this for a moment longer, bodies pressed together, before Jamie sinks to his knees. His hands settle on my hips first, strong and steady, then he reaches for the zip of my jeans. The sound of the zip is loud in the quiet room. He tugs the denim down slowly then takes down my thong too.

Jamie’s gaze fixes on my centre, and—just like the other day—he looks like a man utterly mesmerised. Slowly, reverently, he reaches out, his fingertips brushing over me with such gentleness that a shiver races through my entire body. His touch is exploratory and maddeningly light at first—a teasing graze along the seam of me—but when he strokes more deliberately, a low moan escapes me before I can stop it. Pleasure pools deep inside me as his fingers move with an instinctive tenderness that makes my breath hitch.

“My turn now,” I say playfully, though my voice comes out huskier than intended.