Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt (Hot Scots #4)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rory

I walked into the kitchen, halting a few centimeters inside the doorway to admire the vision of my wife bent at the waist in front of the open refrigerator door. She had one hand on the door, the other one thrust inside the refrigerator while she rooted about for lord knew what, probably something decadent and filled with lush cream and rich, dark chocolate. Her erse jutted up, her tight pants accentuating the lush curves and the separation between those tempting cheeks.

Emery wiggled her behind.

Bod an Donais , that body. I couldn't stop myself. I strode up behind her and splayed my hands over her rump.

She twisted her head around to flash me a naughty grin as she held up a package of eclairs. "Hungry?"

"Famished." I gave her backside a light squeeze. "Ahmno looking for that kind of food. Ahm craving the taste of you, m'eudail ."

My wife straightened and spun around, pasting her soft body to mine, her hands on my chest. "How did the meeting of manly men go?"

"Gavin agreed to come back this afternoon. He doesn't know why." The feel of her breasts mounded against my chest made thinking bloody difficult. I would've rather torn her clothes off. "Could we talk about Jamie and Gavin later?"

Emery tapped one finger on my chest. "Are you sure this big event is necessary?"

I groaned, realizing my hopes of ravishing my wife had been dashed. I wanted to fuck. She wanted to talk.

As usual, she understood my feelings before I did.

"We haven't had sex in almost twenty-four hours," my irresistible wife said. "I know how you get when you're sex deprived. I hope you didn't take it out on Gavin."

"Maybe next time you should sit on my lap while I talk to my sister's fiancé." I reached down to palm her behind. "Not that I'd be able to think that way."

Emery looped her arms around my neck. "I'm letting you do your silly macho thing with Gavin. After this, you owe me one."

"Anything you want, my wicked little angel."

She shimmied her hips. "Anything?"

My cock throbbed with a need only her body could quench, and I hissed, "Aye, anything."

"I want to tell everybody about the baby."

"Wouldn't it be wiser to wait —"

Her hips moved again, the sensation maddening, and she wagged a finger at me. "No more procrastinating, Rory. I know you've still got a minor hang-up about expecting things to go wrong, but nothing will. You've got me, forever. And soon you'll have this baby, our baby. Everything is perfect, let's share the good news."

She was right as always. Thanks to her love and belief in me, I'd shed most of my inhibitions about enjoying life — and all of my sexual inhibitions — and I'd come to accept I deserved the good things that came to me. I deserved Emery. Even if I didn't, though, I would never give her up. Not a chance in bleeding hell. She was mine forever.

It seemed only fair since she'd owned my heart and soul from the moment we'd met.

My wife boosted onto her toes and let her lips skim mine. "I get why you're putting Gavin through this test thingy, and it's almost sweet."

Emery had understood as soon as I'd told her. She'd done for me the same favor I was attempting to do for Gavin, though in a vastly different way. I'd needed a feisty woman to force me to accept love again and prove to me I deserved it. Gavin needed a different sort of proof.

If I could change, if I could come to like my wife calling me "sweet" and "adorable," then Gavin could certainly overcome his final hurdle to happiness.

And yes, caring about the happiness of the American who'd broken my sister's heart was a new experience for me. I had no doubt I'd been meant to find Emery. Maybe I'd also been meant to use my newfound outlook on life to help someone else.

Emery caught her lip between her teeth and traced a fingertip along my jaw. "About the baby…"

I stifled a groan when she rolled her hips into me, her softness meeting my hardness. "Christ, woman, yer a wicked angel for certain. Och, aye, we can tell the whole world about the bairn."

"Thank you." She unhooked the button of my pants. "You get a reward for being so good today."

Her fingers dragged the zipper down millimeter by millimeter.

I hooked a finger under her chin to make her look up at me. "What if I'm better later?"

"After I watch you do that test thingy," she said, her voice turning sultry, "I'm positive I'll be so hot for you it'll be a miracle if we make it into the garden before I throw you to the ground and ride you like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco."

I slid a hand into her hair to cup the back of her head. "I'll hold ye to that."

My wife spent the next hour rewarding me in many and varied ways. I rewarded her creativity in every manner I could think of, as much as I could think with my naked wife sprawled on the kitchen island in front of me.

I was the luckiest bastard on the planet. Not only did my wife please me in the bedroom — and the kitchen, and the garden, and the bathtub, and everywhere else in the house and out of it — she also pleased me with her unwavering faith in me. She trusted my judgment about the test for Gavin.

Mere hours from this moment, the battle would commence.