The bookshelves hold mainly hardcover non-fiction books ranging from memoirs to travel, but there are just a few items and photos held on the shelves and on top of the fireplace mantel. The photos are of him and Edinburgh Rugby, one of him and Lionel, and then one of him and, who I’m guessing are his adopted parents after a game, his hair matted, barely smiling in his uniform. If this was my house, I would have my shit cluttered all over the place. All you need to do is walk inside, look around, and you immediately know that Kayla Moore lives there.
If I’d met Lachlan on the street, and by some good fortune strolled on home with him here, I’m not sure I could glean anything from his home that I didn’t already know. That said, his flat does have a nice feel to it, just as he does. I’m sure over time it will become more and more comfortable. I’ll adapt to it and it will adapt to me.
When he comes back from his walk, I hear him in the hallway talking to the dogs in a happy, playful tone. The coffee is ready, so I lean against the counter, slowly sipping from the cup while he walks into the kitchen.
“Wow,” he says when he sees me, stopping by the door to look me up and down, shaking his head slightly.
“What?” I ask, wanting to know why he’s staring at me with such awe.
He runs his hand over his chin. “You. Here. In my kitchen. In nothing but your knickers.”
I raise my coffee cup. “And with coffee.”
“Dream woman, that’s what you are,” he says, sauntering over to me with that ever present swagger. While he may be wowed by the sight of me, I’m equally wowed by him, particularly by the way his drawstring pants hang so low on his waist, showing that perfect V and giving me one hell of a dick imprint. I’m glad I can continue to wow him in every way possible.
He comes over, bracketing me in between his large hands, his body pressed up against mine. He gazes down at me through his lashes, eyes roaming my face, the smallest smirk on his lips. “I think I can get used to this,” he says, voice low and husky and reaching inside me. My spine liquefies at the sound of it, my skin dancing with anticipation because I know, I know, he’s going to touch me and my body is in constant need.
“What time do we have to head on out?” I ask him, closing my eyes as he leans down and kisses my neck.
He groans, sending shivers through me. “Where do I have to go again?”
“To practice,” I remind him. “And you’re taking me somewhere first. To your work. Though I suppose we could do that another day,” I add hopefully.
He sighs. “No.” He pulls back and peers at my face. “I wish, but if I don’t go back, I’ll be in big trouble.”
He doesn’t have to tell me. I know rugby is his career, and I know how important it is to him. The last thing I want is for him to feel guilty about it.
I decide to lighten the mood. I run my hands down his taut waist and gaze up at him sweetly. “What happens when you get in big trouble? Do the other boys pull down your shorts and give you a spanking?”
He raises his brow. “Filthy, filthy creature,” he murmurs.
I run my thumb under the waistband of his pants, feeling his warm, soft skin. “Well, don’t spoil my fantasy now.”
“Right. Well, yes, of course we pull down each other’s shorts and take turns beating each other with sticks. Sometimes we rub butter all over each other and have one big tackle.” He pauses. “Actually, that happened once, but I think we all had a bit too much to drink. It’s not easy to tackle a naked, oily man. Was good practice though.”
I study him, unable to figure out if he’s serious or not. “Rugby is a very weird sport.”
He reaches around me for the mug I set out for him. “You’ll come to practice sooner or later and see for yourself.”
“I can do that?” I ask, suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing him in action. I step to the side to let him pour the coffee.
“If you’d like,” he says. “I can’t say whether I’d be playing or at my full capacity, but I’ll arrange it. Hopefully on a good day. I don’t want you to start thinking I’m not the player you thought I was.”
“Oh, I never thought you were a player,” I tease him. “Gay, maybe.”