Her Insatiable Scot (17 page)

But how did she become a farmer’s wife? Was she happy? When did she wear it? You tell me.

P.S. The answer to your questions are 15,000 nerve ending fibers in a woman’s pelvic area, but 20,000 in the foreskin alone. It’s why when we see an injury coming, we protect our dick first. Amongst other reasons, of course.

Tristan

Jocelyn sighed and leaned beside her. “I can tell from the smile you’re going to answer this one too.”

He went to museums. He found artifacts and wrote her stories. He wrote her letters. For a month. The first one he’d given to Jocelyn had stopped her heart. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Why bother to continue to woo her? They were done. They’d had their goodbye, as shitty as it was, but that letter told her in a subtle way, they weren’t done. They were only starting. She had hoped it was after reading the first line. She had prayed it was after laughing out loud at his last line.

It had been:

P.S. Yes. You do giggle, especially when I kiss your arches.

Before she could think about what she was doing, she’d started to reply:

Not, yes. Aye.

And then logic had set in and she brushed aside the longing, the hope and praying.

“It’s polite,” Keri argued.

“Polite?
Polite
?”

Keri laughed at her cousin’s incredulous tone. “They’re just letters.”

“It’s dating.”

“Is it?” She played innocent and ripped a blank page from her workbook. “Tell me again why you hate him so much?”

“He seduced you, then made you cry.”

“I happily let him. Seduce me, that is. The crying was an unexpected byproduct of our affair.”

Joce crossed her legs and leaned in closer as though seeing the whites of the woman’s eyes would somehow change Keri’s mind. She frowned down at her cousin’s feet. Beautiful heels. She missed wearing them but didn’t have the time to go buy herself any.

Ian hadn’t written her a glowing reference. He pulled strings and got her hired on at the Langston Museum. She didn’t hold any guilt over the nepotism, because the quick work she’d done with the statue spoke for itself. Once her second paycheck deposited into her bank account, she’d move out of Ian and Joce’s new home.

She’d have done so sooner if the home didn’t have a guesthouse with its own amenities. One would think they’d get tired of sex, but way more than once she’d made an impromptu visit only to have her cousin answer the door flushed and disheveled, while Ian looked irritated and rumpled. After that she waited until Joce came by for her daily are-you-over-Tristan-yet visit.

Worked filled most of her waking hours for the past three weeks. Crocs and big shirts filled her closet once again. She didn’t go out for dates, no matter who her cousin tried to shove in her path. None of the men looked capable. Or had dark auburn hair. Or smiled despite their pasts haunting them. They didn’t write her letters and give her inane sexual facts because she asked. She hadn’t giggled in a month either. A ridiculous thing to miss. What adult female wanted to giggle?

“You know what I think?” Keri asked her cousin.

“What?”

“I think you don’t hate him at all. You just had this vision of him in your head and the moment you found out the truth, he disappointed the shit out of you. He’s so smart, why would he choose to do that, of all things?”

Joce’s eyes widened and she started to straighten. “Uh…”

“What a dick. And you know what? Despite being a fast talker he has a shitty delivery. Before he touched me he should have been truthful. Or around the fourth time we had sex. No. He waited until I was stupid over him and pumped up full of dopamine and envisioning us six months down the line to tell me just how scummy he used to be.”

“Uh…”

“I’m mad at myself, though. I romanticized what con men did, because he did it so effortlessly and made it fun.” She picked up the letter. “This is a con. I should know that and rip these up. But I write back. I can’t help it. I want to talk to him, but I know if I see him face-to-face, I’m fucked. And then that whole thing with his mother.” Her voice sounded vicious. “I’m pissed on his behalf. He may have made peace with it but I just want to cut a bitch. She hurt him. She—”
Made Tristan feel broken and like there was something wrong with him
.

Keri’s throat felt thick and she couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. She could understand that feeling all too well. It was why she’d been so pissed at him. All the insecurities that had fallen by the wayside rose back up with a vengeance when he confessed to her.

Joce grabbed her face and the shocking action shut Keri up. “Breathe or you’re going to pass out.”

Since her cousin’s expression looked a bit wild, she listened and breathed. Joce sighed and let her hands fall away. “He’s not conning you. He never did.”

Keri’s brows rose. “But—”

Her cousin put up her hand to stop her. “I can say a lot of shitty things about Tristan—you know I’d love to—but you haven’t seen him with Ian. Or with me. Ian had to blackmail him into going to that class.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I didn’t know you believed he’d conned you. I thought you were just pissy the way everything turned out and how he told you.”

Joce’s expression pinched into a scowl. “He spent over a decade of his life conning. So he’ll always have that skill, but he doesn’t hurt people anymore. I don’t know what he did or said with you, but it was real.”

Was she making excuses and feeling sorry for him? “So why did he tell me like that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe he wanted you to know.”

But why?

Her heart skipped as her mind tripped up on an answer. It mattered that she knew everything. He could have said goodbye when he told her to run—hell, when he told her about his past—but he wasn’t walking away. He had his chances, plenty of them, but he never took them. Wasn’t that why she agreed to stay for a few more days? They both could have made the argument that they’d fulfilled their end of the bargain. He’d even started to pack and stopped to join her in the shower.

Tears stung Keri’s eyes. “Shit.”

“I know that look on your face. Shit, indeed.” Joce rolled her shoulders. “No need to write the letter. You’ll see him tomorrow at the housewarming.” The other woman sighed. “Tristan lives at my old place. So he’s in town. Has been for a month. Ian’s trying to talk him into working for him. So…” She gave her a once-over. “Go shopping. Get your hair done. Make him grovel and then do what you already planned to do. I can attest that makeup sex is fantastic.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m married to a Baird. I know the insanity. You’re worse off because Ian’s the watered-down, broodier version. Their da is something else.” Jocelyn checked her watch. “I can talk to Langston for you and we can have an extended lunch. The man adores me.”

“You never used to be this pushy.”

Her cousin grinned. “I know.”

She laughed. The test took some time and the reports were halfway done. She could use an extended lunch if it meant heels. And seeing Tristan. God, just the thought of him made her stomach flip-flop. Her brain bombarded her with common sense, probability factors and a slew of things not steeped in a single emotion. She wavered. She was just going to see him. Return the ring because she hadn’t known his address to give it to him; plus, it was polite to return it to him in person.

Yeah.

So, that was what she’d do. She’d return the ring while wearing heels, a silk dress and looking like something he should throw in bed and ravish. Not that she’d fall into bed with him.

She wouldn’t.

She calculated the probability and changed that to
maybe
.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tristan lifted his hand to knock on the guest house’s door. The light yellow trim fit perfectly on the little house that had good bones for its age. He dropped his hand back down when the door opened.

He had every intention of starting off with an apology. He couldn’t change the man he used to be. His gut ached because he’d told her in a way that left no room to reply or react that didn’t involve disgust, shock, anger—pretty much everything but a thoughtful consideration. His confession made her believe he wanted her gone. He could see that now—not then, because he’d been too wrapped up in fear that she’d hate him. And that fear was what ensured it.

But that didn’t matter, because she answered the door in a silk dress and heels that made her feet look feminine and dainty. He’d seen enough photos in the albums at Joce’s place to know what she normally looked like. Buried, hidden in baggy clothes as though they could make her disappear. His mouth dried and his heart thudded.

“Keri.” All the other words he had disappeared with the sight of her again, finally.

She reached up to her hair. “I didn’t—What are you doing back here?”

He wanted to drag her to him just so he could take in the warmth of her body and her scent. “Wasn’t sure if you knew I’d be here and rather—I just wanted to give you a heads-up I’d be here. If you wanted me to go, I’d go.”

She blinked. “Oh.” She shook her head. “Give me a moment.” She motioned for him to wait and disappeared into the house.

When she came back to the door, she handed him the ring. Silence thickened between them. He chuckled at himself and her. “I came so we wouldn’t have an awkward moment, somewhat like this, in front of Joce and Ian.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Ian would get frustrated and Joce would just kick you in the balls.” She glanced down. “Thank you.”

She lifted her hand and dropped it back to her side. She met his gaze, her tongue dragged over her top lip.

His gut tightened. “Do you?”

Her lids lowered. “Do I what?”

“Want me to leave?”

Heat simmered in her gaze. “At the moment I want what I shouldn’t.”

He stepped forward. “What’s that, Keri?”

Her breath shuddered out and her breasts moved with the motion. “You look like you want to bite me.”

“I do.” He took another step until his fingers could brush the skin revealed by the low-cut dress. “Shouldn’t is such a confining word.” He touched her and everything in him felt fluid, right.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. “You know what? I’ve been thinking.”

“Aye?”

She inhaled. “And I came to the conclusion that sometimes my brain gets in the way of action.”

He didn’t want to be hopeful, but it showed through his voice anyway. “What action?”

She fisted her hand in his shirt and dragged him closer. Her mouth slammed into his and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He had enough thought to kick the door closed before pulling her to the floor. Hardwood. He tightened his hold and rolled so she wouldn’t have to take the brunt of his weight and the harsh flooring.

She nipped his lip and tugged away. “My brain is telling me we should talk.”

“We will.” He grabbed a handful of her hair with one hand and kissed her again, harder. With his other hand, he still held the ring. Maybe they didn’t need words or thoughts. They’d share plenty soon enough, but actions meant more to him. They never lied, they never conned. She needed reassurance, no doubt, that he was here and would be as long as she’d have him. She wouldn’t notice what he’d done, but he’d know.

Once he was done, he tangled his fingers with hers and held her hand. She moaned, her body giving and melting into him.

There.

Right there
.

He felt her give him her everything.

*****

What are you doing?

Kissing the man I’ve fallen for.

Stop.

Can’t.

And really, she couldn’t, but her brain kept right on screaming at her. So much so, she broke the kiss, trying to catch her breath. She’d missed the taste of him, the feel of him, just the way his blue-gray eyes hazed over whenever he looked at her.

It didn’t make sense to miss him the way she did, but every night she’d awakened the past month, she’d crave for his arms to be wrapped around her waist. Or one hand cupping her ass, claiming her as his even in his sleep.

They were all primitive little beasts on the inside. Territorial. Needing a tribe, a home. She claimed him with her mouth again because her stomach felt weightless. She sprawled over him possessively, not caring about the words they should have said first. She should have. She should lift and tell him they needed to work through a lot, but he was there and she’d missed him.

Her brain roared. She pulled back and it hurt physically to break that intimate contact. “Why? Why did you write me those letters?”

“I missed you. I couldn’t think of a way that could possibly earn back your trust, but I wanted to talk to you. Any way I could.”

He could fake sincerity. He could tell her exactly what she needed to hear, but why would he? What did he get from her? “Why?”

He frowned, running a hand over his hair. “We were pretending to be a couple and I wanted it to be real. I wanted to be the kind of man you could love. I put your needs before mine and I barely knew you, but it mattered that I did. I’ve always regretted my past, but for the first time I wished to be a better man. You made me feel like I could be.”

She pressed her face against his chest to beat back the tears. “But why me?” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You’re smart, funny, sexy as fuck. Any man with half a working brain should look at you and see perfection.”

She lifted and narrowed her gaze on him. He was smiling but it lit his eyes in a way that made her want to kiss him again. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Could be the dopamine my brain’s swimming in, but I doubt it.”

“Big words. I shouldn’t believe you.”

“You’re right to be hesitant. I am still a con man. Will always be. I’ve gone honest, but that I can never change. If you want me to leave, I’ll go. I’ll tell you goodbye and never bother you.”

She closed her eyes and kissed him again, but her mind calculated the probabilities of them sticking it out. Her brain doubted and got in the way of what her heart felt. But logic played out all the scenarios of a man who could have anything and then choosing her to fool. She wasn’t rich. She had nothing but herself to give him.