I bite my bottom lip. “I feel like I should tell you something.”
“What’s that?” he asks, his voice husky, like a soft rumble of thunder in the distance.
“I’m starting to like you.”
He chuckles, the sound rattling the bed ever so slightly. “Is that so?”
“Don’t make a big deal about it.”
“How could I not, when I’ve been nothing but grumpy and awful to be around?”
“I never said it’s awful to be around you. Grumpy, yes, but Kilty McGrumpyshire has grown on me.”
“Yeah, well . . . the stubborn and saucy American has grown on me as well.”
I smile. “Does that mean . . . you like me back?”
Growing serious, he replies, “I think I have for a while.”
His hand travels up my back to the nape of my neck. Butterflies erupt in my chest as he pulls me a few more inches closer, cutting what little distance there is between us.
Forehead to forehead, he’s silent for a few breaths. “The first time you kissed me,” he murmurs, “it was torture to not kiss you back, but I had to stand my stubborn ground. I felt the imprint of your lips on mine for days. I smelled your perfume on me for hours after, and your badgering made me laugh minutes later. It was the worst, best first kiss I’ve ever had with someone.”
“You consider that a first kiss?”
“Aye. I do.”
“But it wasn’t a pretty one.”
“Doesn’t need to be.”
“So what does all of this mean? Are you going to kiss me now?” I ask, feeling breathless and excited.
“Nay.” He shakes his head against mine. “I’m going to hold you, though.”
Disappointment falls, and I realize just how much I really wanted him to kiss me—just how much I actually want this man. But cuddling into him, letting him hold me during a thunderstorm, that should be good enough . . . right?
“Come here,” he says, rolling onto his back and pulling me into his embrace. I rest my head against his chest, and his protective arm clamps around me as he kisses the top of my head. “Thank you for tonight,” he says quietly.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I don’t talk about my brother very often, Bonnie. You listened, and that meant something to me.”
“I know you would have done the same for me.” I move my hands slowly across his chest. “Rowan?”
“Hmm?”
“Does this mean . . . we’re starting something?”
“Are you fishing for a date, lass?”
“Wouldn’t hurt you to ask, you know.”
“Okay.”
And I wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.
“Uh, are you going to ask?”
“On my terms, Bonnie. Now just go to sleep.”
“On your terms—what does that even mean?”
“Means I’ll ask when I ask.”
“Well, I can’t wait around forever, you know. I’m fresh meat in a Scottish meat market. I might be asked out tomorrow, and because you never asked me out, I would take that date.”
“Then take it,” he says casually.
I pinch his side, and he barely flinches. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“I know you wouldn’t take it. You’re too infatuated with me.”
“Oh, now you did it,” I exclaim. “Now I’m going to go ask Leith out just to spite you.”
He chuckles. “Good luck. I heard he likes to lick necks on first dates.”
“Well, then he’s the perfect man for me.”
A burst of light sears through my eyelids as thunder booms outside. I startle awake, my heart rate surging as I try to grasp where I am. The room is swathed in darkness, and the warm body that held me as I fell asleep is nowhere to be found. I sit up in bed and search the room, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Folding down the covers, I slowly get out of bed and make my way through the open bedroom door. I pad into the main living space, where I spot him in the kitchen, wearing just a pair of black boxer briefs. His back is turned to me, and tension rolls through it as he grips the counter in front of him, his head tilted down. Lightning flashes and another boom of thunder rattles the house, but he remains still, unaffected.
Carefully, I walk up behind him and run my hand along his bare back to let him know I’m here. His muscles tense under my touch, but he quickly relaxes beneath my hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nightmare,” he answers honestly. “About Callum.”