SAM
In the end, he was right. The weather started changing rapidly as we made our way back to the cottage. The clouds covered the sun and turned from white and innocent to gray and ominous.
“Well, that was nice while it lasted,” I muttered, looking up at the sky, and he laughed good-naturedly. A light, wet mist started coming down a few minutes later, and it soon turned into fat, heavy rain drops that caught up with us when we were still about fifteen minutes away from the cottage.
By the time we made it to the door, we were both soaked.
We opted to get in through the mudroom and shed our wet clothes there then we headed for the bathroom upstairs. I drew a bath and took off the remaining things I had on, namely my fleece and underwear. The uber-smart Scot had had a state-of-the-art tub installed in our upstairs bathroom. Unfortunately, we never had the time to put it to good use. We were always running to and from work and never had the time for a bubble bath. It was time to christen it.
“Take off the rest of your clothes,” I said as I started drawing a bath, making sure the water was the right temperature.
He didn’t say a word, but his eyes sparkled with a naughty gleam.
I watched him take off his thermal Henley slowly, teasing me, putting on a show for me.
“Get in,” I ordered him, pointing at the tub when he was naked in front of me.
His curly brown hair was wet from the rain, and I gently brushed it off his face.
He circled my wrist with his hand and pulled me closer to him.
“You get in now, lass,” he said in a low, husky voice.
I did as he asked, and turned around when he motioned for me to sit on top of him.
I leaned back against his chest as the warm water soothed my cold, wet limbs.
“This tub was the best idea ever,” I murmured against his neck before placing a soft kiss there. He caressed my face and kissed the top of my head.
“Better than the stove?”
“Shoot, I forgot about that other fab idea of yours. It’s a toss-up between the stove and the tub,” I said, thinking about the marvelous Viking Tuscany blue stove downstairs.
The stove was amazing, but sometimes I felt a bit guilty. I didn’t even want to think or argue about the price tag on that one. I’d attempted it before and knew it was pointless to bring it up again.
“Have you given any more thought to when you want to get married?” he asked, running his fingers up my arm and then across my stomach. I shivered at the touch and let out a sigh. We hadn’t talked about it since our bubble got burst at the Registrar’s office. I’d told Hugh I had no problem taking care of the paperwork and he’d put me in touch with his attorney, but I hadn’t heard back from him yet. Maybe it was time to give him another call, especially after the fabulous idea I’d gotten while we were out on our hike.
I would have to make sure my Scot didn’t suspect anything.
“I have,” I said simply.
“And?”
“I want it to be soon, like you, but you need to give me time to get everything under control. Maybe start planning toward the end of our shooting schedule this season, and have it next summer.”
“So, about a year from now?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but notice the disappointment in his voice. I held on to the edges of the tub so I could turn around and look at him.
“Well, it really would be less than a year if we could get something planned for late spring or early summer. I meant what I said when Cecilia and Oliver got married, but give me time to pull it all together, okay? And, the other thing is . . . after I was so unceremoniously dismissed, I am concerned about doing a good job on set. I already have too many distractions as it is,” I said, giving him a pointed look.
“Hmmm,” he hummed, eyes sparkling with delight, fixed on my lips. Then, he frowned. “But, Sam . . . you know you didn’t get fired last year based on your performance. You really shouldn’t worry about that.”
“Debatable.”
“I’m serious,” he said, and his accent was suddenly more marked. I smiled and kissed him on the lips.
“Still, I would like to be able to focus on what I need to do on a day-to-day basis without having to worry about planning a whole wedding.”
“You know, I could help.” The tone of his voice was low, his eyes dark, and his hand traveled from my collarbone down to my breast. He gave it a gentle squeeze then started teasing my nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, really? Please do enlighten me. When would you even have the time to help?” I teased.
“I could find the time,” he said as he brought my breast up so it was out of the water. He leaned down, sucked slow and hard on my nipple, making me lose my concentration. A few strokes of his tongue on my skin were all my pussy needed to become a tangled mess of nerves, aching for more attention from him.
“I could find the time,” he repeated. “I have a few ideas already.”
“What are these ideas? Please do share.”
“There’s a church in Stonehaven I have been to before, and I’d always thought that if and when I got married, I would like to do it there.”
“Well, we need to figure something out. You’re Catholic but I’m . . . well, I’m nothing, raised with no religion whatsoever. That’s bound to raise some eyebrows, at least here in the old world,” I teased.
“Come on, Samhain, you’re overreacting.”
“I’m serious. I am going to have to explain to whichever priest we speak to that neither my father or my mother cared to raise me according to any religion, even a nondenominational one.”
“No one will care, you’ll see.”
“I have been trying to do some research, though, to see how it all works, you know.”
“You have?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Yes. I haven’t been to that many Catholic weddings, and I would like to be prepared a little.”
“So, I know which church I want us to get married at, and you’ve been doing your research. All we need is to contact the priest, get your family airline tickets, and a dress for you.”
“A dress for me—what about you? Do you think you’re going to recycle one of your suits? No way.”
“Who talked about recycling? I just need to find a new jacket and shirt, perhaps. I already have the bottom half,” he said with a wink, and I laughed.
“That’s right, you’re going to wear your kilt, aren’t you?”
He gave me a sultry look, and with a hand wrapped around my shoulder, he brought the other one down between my legs.
“That’s right, and I plan to be traditional on our wedding day,” he said in a seductive tone. He leaned over and gave me a peck, his tongue peeking between his lips, capturing mine slowly, wrapping around mine in a sensuous hold. I broke the kiss, heady and full of questions.
“Traditional?” I asked.
He raised one eyebrow. “Traditional, neach gaoil, when it comes the kilt.”
“Ohhhh,” I replied, raising my eyebrows in understanding. “Traditional, aye?”
“Aye,” he said, running his nose along mine while his fingers made their way to my center, teasing my clit in a circular motion, putting just enough pressure on it to make me arch my back and ache for him to give me all of himself again.
“You’re such a scoundrel,” I told him in a shallow tone, my wits succumbing to my body’s reaction. I enjoyed witty banter, but right now his touch was all I craved.
I found his hard length underwater and began stroking his smooth cock up and down.
“Sam, get on all fours.”
“All fours?”
“Yes, lass. Grab the edge of the tub. I need to be inside you now.”
Fuck me.
I gave him a sly look and did as he asked. He was rarely demanding in the bedroom, and I liked when he was. I wanted to play with him. I grabbed the edge of the oval-shaped tub, getting steady on my knees as I felt him rise out of the water behind me. I turned around slightly to look at his glorious body as ripples of water washed off his skin. He grabbed my hips, his erection hard against my back, and ran a finger up and down my slit. Grabbing his cock, he positioned himself at my entrance and pushed inside, hard and fast.
I gasped and grabbed the edge of the tub tighter.
He waited a moment before moving again, one hand on my hip, the other teasing my nipple. He thrust again, deep and slow, while his hand traveled across my stomach. He started moving steadily inside me, filling me so deeply I wanted to scream. It got worse—in the best possible way—when his hand met the entrance of my pussy and found my clit. His deep thrusts with his fast stroking of my center had me rocking my head backward, moaning his name, begging him to give me more.
“Harder, faster,” I moaned—as if it were possible to feel even higher than what I felt right then. He kept a steady rhythm and I felt the orgasm burst through my body as I clenched around him, coming hard. He reached climax a couple seconds later, grasping the edge of the tub for balance with one hand, the other anchored around my waist. As the orgasm washed through him, he leaned his head on my back, breathing hard.
He pulled out, and before I could even straighten up, he bit my ass—hard.
“Ouch! That was a bit much, Mr. MacLeod.” I turned to look at him, and he had the smuggest, most impenitent smile.
“I’m not sorry about that, Ms. Farouk.” His grin lit up his whole face, and although I had planned to remain serious, I couldn’t stop the smile stretching across mine.
Then, I had a sudden thought.
Am I going to change my name? Women in the US did it often, but I knew a lot of women in Europe kept their birth name.
We washed the soap off and got out of the tub just as the water was starting to get cold. I offered him a towel as I wrapped one around me.
The words slipped out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.
“Am I going to change my name?”
He looked surprised, almost startled. He smiled warmly and bit his lip.
“When we get married, I mean.”
“If you want to, but you don’t have to do that.”
“It wouldn’t matter to you?” I asked. I couldn’t deny that I was a bit surprised. Men seemed to always make such a big deal about the woman taking the husband’s name.
“It doesna matter much to me, Sam. I can be traditional about some things and modern about others. Your name is part of your identity. As nice as it is to take your husband’s name, I don’t see it as necessary.”
“Really?”
“Really. Whether you take my name or not, you’ll be mine, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” I smiled at that, because he was right. Whether I decided to change my last name or not, I would be his. I was going to be his for the rest of my life.