Page 84 of The Highland Game

He pushes into me slowly at first, and I’m transfixed by the sight of him disappearing inside me. There’s something primal about it, something raw and achingly beautiful in the way we come together so completely. And being this close, face to face, feeling every shift of him within me, every flex of his muscles beneath my palm . . .

He presses a hand against the small of my back, guiding our bodies closer still, then the same hand reaches to cup my cheek tenderly. Every nerve in my body hums with awareness as we move together. Each roll of his hips sends delicious waves of heat flooding through me.

Our eyes lock despite the closeness of our bodies, although occasionally his forehead lightly brushes against mine, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.

Jamie’s movements grow deeper, more purposeful, the slow drag of him inside me sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. Each thrust builds a sweet and steady tension low in my belly. His thumb brushes a soft rhythm across my cheekbone, grounding me even as I feel like I might come undone completely.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs hoarsely.

The raw sincerity in his words sends a fresh surge of heat through me. I arch into him instinctively, my leg tightening around his waist to pull him closer still. He takes the cue, his pace quickening ever so slightly as his hand trails down to grip the back of my thigh. The angle shifts just enough for him to hit something devastatingly perfect—a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes and a strangled cry spill from my lips.

The pressure builds impossibly high now, cresting like a wave rushing towards its peak. My nails dig into his back as I cling to him, barely able to process anything beyond the spirals of ecstasy curling tighter and tighter inside me. When he rocks into me again—deeper this time—it’s enough to tip me over the edge.

Pleasure crashes over me in relentless waves that leave me trembling and gasping his name. Jamie doesn’t pause; he moves through it with me, his own breaths rough and ragged as my climax draws him closer to his own breaking point.

“Maisie,” he groans at last, burying his face against my neck as one final thrust sends him shuddering with release. His grip on me tightens briefly before softening into something gentler, a tender embrace that keeps us tangled together long after the aftershocks subside.

Afterwards, we lie tangled in the sheets, bodies spent and limbs entwined as though the world beyond this moment doesn’t exist. Nestled against Jamie’s chest, I let the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothe me, his warmth seeping into my skin. His fingers trace lazy circles on my shoulder, and for a fleeting second, I wish I could freeze us here forever—no complications, no rivalries, just this intoxicating closeness.

But reality has a way of creeping in, no matter how tempting it is to linger in fantasy.

Still, while I’m here, in his room, I can’t resist the pull of curiosity and the chance to snoop a little. A person’s space says a lot about them, and I’m itching to take a closer look.

I slip from under his arm as gently as I can. Jamie murmurs a low sound of protest but doesn’t stop me. The cool air kisses my bare skin as I pad across his carpet. My gaze flits over his things: bookshelves crammed with fantasy and sci-fi titles, gadgets and wires on his desk, little glimpses all over into the man who normally hides behind a cheeky grin and his jokes.

And then I spot her: a figurine of a female mage from Highland Legacy, her fiery-red hair strikingly similar to my own avatar in the game. Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips.

I take her down and turn her over in my hands. “That’s a pretty good likeness. You know, I don’t remember you ever mentioning that you have a miniature version of me lying around. Should I be flattered or creeped out?”

Jamie leans up on one elbow, smirking lazily. “Tease all you like. Doesn’t change the fact you’re standing naked in my room right now. I could watch you all day.” His gaze sweeps over me unabashedly.

I roll my eyes then grab my clothes. As much as I’m enjoying this momentary reprieve from the mess outside these walls, it can’t last. Nothing about this can.

“To tell you the truth,” I say as I pull on my jeans, trying to sound casual, “I thought you’d be more upset than you were when you found out I’m SassyLassie. You took it reasonably well.”

Jamie sits up fully now, scrubbing a hand through his tousled hair. “Aye, well . . . it was a shock. And sure, I was pissed off at first. But then . . .” He exhales slowly. “It’s kind of amazing when you think about it. All those hours we spent gaming together, and SassyLassie—the girl I was talking to—was right here in Bannock all along? That’s . . . incredible.”

Something inside me twists painfully at his words, and for one reckless second I almost let myself believe there could be more between us than this fiery push-and-pull. But no amount of chemistry or history can change what we are now: rivals tied too deeply to our competing ambitions.

I tug my top over my head. “Incredible or not,” I say evenly, forcing back any hint of emotion from creeping into my voice, “it doesn’t change anything.”

The lightness in Jamie’s expression falters. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . nothing has changed,” I say firmly but not unkindly. “You and I are still competing for the same customers every day.”

For a moment he looks like he might argue, but then he says nothing at all. His silence pushes me further.

“We’re working against each other constantly,” I continue, trying to keep a lid on everything that’s threatening to bubble up beneath the surface. “You’re setting up collaborations with the distillery and having secret talks with the Highland Games organisers. Meanwhile, I’m putting out videos promoting my pub and creating cocktails that cheekily poke fun at yours. Does any of that sound like it could end with a happily ever after?”

“Maisie . . .” A plea hides somewhere in that one word.

But now that I’ve started, I keep on going. “The spark between us? The fire? That’s because we’re always clashing heads!” My words come faster now—harder. “Any time we’ve kissed or ended up in bed, it’s started with an argument. We’re only good together because we thrive on winding each other up! That can’t evolve into a normal, healthy romantic relationship.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, really?” Bitterness edges into my tone before I can stop it—not directed at him exactly but at how bloody impossible this situation is. “Let’s be honest about this. It’s just sex, Jamie. Incredible, mind-blowing sex—sure—but nothing more.”

He flinches, and damn it! Watching the hurt flash across his face makes my stomach churn, but what else can I do? I’m not saying this to punish him or drive him away—I’m just being realistic. His drive to make the snug successful is admirable, but it’s also the thing that makes us impossible. If either of us had a solution, we wouldn’t be caught in this stalemate that feels more unbearable with every passing second.