There’s no way Callum MacGregor is going to let the gorgeous American turn his tiny hometown over to bored tourists looking to satisfy their Outlander fantasies. He only has ten days to convince her to slow down and see the magic of the town and its people. If he succeeds, he won’t have to run her out of the county. But if he fails, Georgia might run off with his heart.
“What are we doing?” she asked against his mouth.
He pulled back and stared into her stormy eyes. “I think it’s called kissing.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of it.” She paused. “I like it. A lot.” She regarded him. “You taste good. Like an ice cream cone I want to lick forever,” she murmured, then leaned forward and sucked his bottom lip between hers.
He shifted, his zipper denting tender flesh. “What flavor?” He nuzzled her neck and bumps flew across her skin.
“All flavors of the rainbow. Sweet, salty, and with a hint of you, and before you ask I don’t know what that taste is, but I’m calling it delicious.”
“That’s a lot of flavors.” He cupped her face and stared into her liquid eyes.
I wish you were mine, Georgia Paxton.
She snuggled deeper into him, their combined heat misting the windows and possibly the countryside.
He glanced out the window. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, and the road appeared manageable. He glanced at his watch and pulled a hand through his hair. They’d been out way later than he’d planned, but Callum had enjoyed every minute of her company. “I think we can get going.”
“Are you sure? I’m not sure if I’ve got this kissing thing down. I need to practice.” She wiggled in his lap.
When you put it that way. He glanced at his watch again. Damn, he wanted to spend hours exploring her body with his hands, with his mouth, map it until he knew every quiver, every intake of breath, every moan. Right now, with her hands in his hair, her amazing sunshine scent was making him punch-drunk.
“If I don’t leave now, I don’t think we’ll be leaving for a while.” He cast a glance in the backseat at his goat. “I don’t want an audience.”
She blinked away the haze. “Absolutely not. Poor Delilah.” She did one last wiggle against him, then crawled over to the passenger seat.
“Can we practice kissing later, but without company?” She lowered her voice. “I was enjoying that.”
He pulled back and stared into her stormy eyes. “I think it’s called kissing.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of it.” She paused. “I like it. A lot.” She regarded him. “You taste good. Like an ice cream cone I want to lick forever,” she murmured, then leaned forward and sucked his bottom lip between hers.
He shifted, his zipper denting tender flesh. “What flavor?” He nuzzled her neck and bumps flew across her skin.
“All flavors of the rainbow. Sweet, salty, and with a hint of you, and before you ask I don’t know what that taste is, but I’m calling it delicious.”
“That’s a lot of flavors.” He cupped her face and stared into her liquid eyes.
I wish you were mine, Georgia Paxton.
She snuggled deeper into him, their combined heat misting the windows and possibly the countryside.
He glanced out the window. The rain had eased to a steady drizzle, and the road appeared manageable. He glanced at his watch and pulled a hand through his hair. They’d been out way later than he’d planned, but Callum had enjoyed every minute of her company. “I think we can get going.”
“Are you sure? I’m not sure if I’ve got this kissing thing down. I need to practice.” She wiggled in his lap.
When you put it that way. He glanced at his watch again. Damn, he wanted to spend hours exploring her body with his hands, with his mouth, map it until he knew every quiver, every intake of breath, every moan. Right now, with her hands in his hair, her amazing sunshine scent was making him punch-drunk.
“If I don’t leave now, I don’t think we’ll be leaving for a while.” He cast a glance in the backseat at his goat. “I don’t want an audience.”
She blinked away the haze. “Absolutely not. Poor Delilah.” She did one last wiggle against him, then crawled over to the passenger seat.
“Can we practice kissing later, but without company?” She lowered her voice. “I was enjoying that.”
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There’s no way Callum MacGregor is going to let the gorgeous American turn his tiny hometown over to bored tourists looking to satisfy their Outlander fantasies. He only has ten days to convince her to slow down and see the magic of the town and its people. If he succeeds, he won’t have to run her out of the county. But if he fails, Georgia might run off with his heart.
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ReplyDeleteBest wishes, Hayson