His mouth comes back to my ear. “Do you want me to kiss you, pretty girl?”
I nod.
“Then say those magic words.”
I’ve never touched liquor in my life, but I imagine this is what it feels like, as if I could float away, as if words escape me now and all I can do is feel.
“I… I…” I can’t remember.
He pinches my naked backside, and I squeal, coming up on my toes. But he was right. A little pain can heighten things. As heat rushes to where he pinched, my body heats in turn. I shiver deliciously when he rubs his rough palm over the place he hurt.
I have one moment of clarity, and breathe out in a rush of words, “Please, sir.”
“That’s it, pretty lass. Just like that.” He smells of woodsmoke and whiskey, so masculine my toes curl. Framing my face in his hands, he makes me feel as if nothing matters beyond this moment, this perfect moment in time before he kisses me. I close my eyes the second before his lips touch mine and sigh into him.
It’s a gentle kiss, chaste and sweet, yet I’m so eager to feel this, an electric vibe snakes through me. I want more. So much more.
But too soon, he pulls away, tugs my head toward him, and tucks me against his chest.
“We’ve an errand, lass,” he whispers. “There’s so much more I wish to do to you. But if I start now, there won’t be any turning back.”
I nod, dazzled and bewildered by the too-short kiss. My mouth is dry, but there’s a humming need he’s stirred deep in my belly.
“Caitlin,” he says, his voice choked, as if it pains him to say it. “Get dressed.”
He turns away as if to give me privacy, but perhaps he means to collect himself. I walk on trembling legs to the dresser and tug a drawer open. I take out the first pair of panties and bra I see, when he grates out in a hoarse whisper, “No knickers.”
I look at him curiously. “Say that again?”
“No. Knickers.”
I stare at him.
“If you cover that arse of yours with knickers, I’ll spank you before we go.”
I drop the silky pair back in the drawer and bite my lip.
“Good girl.”
I like how that makes me feel, all warm and soft and pleased.
He quickly tugs on clothes as I slide into another dress. “There’s only dresses in these drawers,” I say to him. “Am I to have no modern clothing like your mam?”
“Not on my watch,” he says. “I like you dressed like that.”
I smile. Well, then. That pleases me very much.
“May I ask what errand we’re to run?” I ask.
“You’ll see in a moment.”
The air is thick with something, though I don’t know how to describe it. I’m eager to come back here with him, though. Eager to be alone with him again. It’s safe to say I affect him, and Lord knows he affects me, too.
“We’ll get breakfast on the way back,” he says.
“I’m still your prisoner?”
He doesn’t reply at first, but after long minutes, he nods.
“You are.”
Why did he hesitate?
I suppose I have to wait until he finds me innocent, then.
“Where will we get breakfast?” I ask him. “And how does one even ‘get breakfast?’ What does that mean?”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “I forget how innocent and inexperienced y’are. We’ll stop at the bakery, lass. I’ll order for you, and we’ll have a bite. It’s time we see, anyway,” he mutters, but he doesn’t explain what he means.
He takes my hand and tugs me along with him. “Now, no more questions.” But he doesn’t have to tell me twice. I have enough to think about, I’m mulling it in my mind already.
His warm, strong hand feels surprisingly reassuring in mine, and the tingle I felt through my body returns. Is this what romance feels like? I wouldn’t know. And why would I want anything romantic with a man like Keenan?
I’m lost in my thoughts while he leads me down the long hallway to the staircase. This place is so much larger than ours that it surprises me a little. How can people live in a place so vast?
“Don’t you… well do you ever have a hard time finding someone you’re looking for?” I ask him. “I mean, it’s practically an entire village right here in this house, and you—ohhh. Oh, Keenan.”
I pause, bringing my free hand to my mouth. At the very top of the stairs, I get a view for the very first time of the large, plate glass windows that line the entryway to the house. Their house—or mansion—is situated atop the cliffs that overlook the ocean. And from where I’m standing, I can see miles and miles of endless blue, white-caps, and waves.
He pauses with me, the two of us side by side looking out into the ocean.