Heart of the Highland Wolf by Terry Spear Read Free Book Online Page A

variety.
    With a sparkle in his devilishly dark eyes, he clapped his hands on his thighs and nodded. “Then it’s decided.”
    Before she could object, he headed for the bathroom.
    Oh… my… God. If Maria thought Julia was going to willingly butter him up, her friend had another thing coming. But Julia had never suspected that she wouldn’t have to do a thing to get there.
    Even so, she knew this was a horrible mistake.
    Giving in to circumstances that she had little control over, Julia closed her eyes and envisioned Laird Ian MacNeill— in the historical romance she would write —adding rose petals to her bathwater after the servants carried heated water to the wooden tub in the lady’s chamber adjoining the laird’s. At first, the laird had not been happy about having the lass forced on him due to a contract drawn up by his da and hers to unite the clans. But now, the notion seemed to intrigue him somewhat.
    Before she could envision more of the details for her story in her mind’s eye, the sofa gave a little shudder, and her eyes popped open. Ian sat next to her on the couch, his arms folded, watching her. The sofa all of a sudden seemed way too small for the two of them as his leg brushed hers in a heated caress.
    â€œA warm bath will do you a world of good, lass. But I wondered what you’ll be doing during the filming.”
    She loved his brogue. She could soak it up all day long as she listened to the way he rolled his r ’s and twisted his tongue around in ways she couldn’t even imagine, her gaze focused on his sensuous mouth all the while.
    He touched a piece of her hair tickling her cheek and moved it behind her ear. “Lass?”
    â€œYou asked?”
    He chuckled. “Either you’re too tired to think straight, having been through too much in the last several hours, or…” He smiled, and the intimation was that she was too wrapped up in him to think clearly. “Water should be ready.” He rose from the sofa, and without waiting for her to say she could walk, he scooped her up and headed for the bathroom.
    She didn’t need blankets or hot baths or anything of the sort to heat her up. His body did the trick—his hot, hard body pressing against hers, his arm securely around her waist, his hand resting beneath her breast, his other arm cupped under her legs. She was feeling incredibly warm.
    â€œIt’s jet lag,” she finally said, looking up at him, her head tilted back, her hair tumbling backward. “You’re right. I’m exhausted, and I’m not thinking clearly.” It had nothing to do with Ian being an incredibly hunky Highlander. Or that she was imagining the virile warrior wearing a kilt and a sword as he carried her into the bathroom instead of the wet clinging trousers that showed just how hot and sexy and intrigued he was with her.
    He hesitated to set her down on the floor or the edge of the bathtub, staring into her eyes as if she had mesmerized him and momentarily made him forget his mission. But then he did the unexpected and set her on the marble sink countertop. She thought he meant to offer to help her further with undressing and intended to quickly decline his generous offer. Instead, he leaned his face down to meet hers and kissed her! Full on the mouth with a sensuous, hot-blooded kiss that would have knocked her stockings off if she’d still been wearing them.
    She didn’t even object or pull away like she should have done. What would the Scotsman think of American women if she didn’t? But she couldn’t, not when his lips were caressing hers in such a sexually charged way, warm and soft and needy and in control. Very much in control. She loved the feel of his mouth on hers, the desire sparking between them, the heat that chased away the chill.
    Enjoying the feel of his masculine lips on hers, she wanted more. She wrapped her hands around his neck and parted her lips