acknowledgement. The tempting orbs cried out to be touched. Torin swallowed hard and focused on the headboard just above Emma’s head. Damn the aching part between my legs! His hardened cock ordered him to return his gaze to Emma’s luscious parts, the impossible-to-ignore, tempting parts straining through the lace. Would the woman never catch her breath?
“It was just a bad dream. I have them sometimes. But I’m all right now, so you can go back to the couch. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Emma scattered the pages across the bed, tucking the sheet up under her chin as she hugged her knees to her chest.
“I meant ye no harm.” Torin flexed his hands against the rough weave of his kilt. Damnú air. His ability to talk to a woman hadn’t improved any over the centuries and neither had his memory. Why the hell had he come in here in the first place? Emma’s warm body against his chest had immediately emptied his head. The sight of Emma’s unadorned hand jolted the blood back to his brain and jogged his faulty memory. “I also wanted ye to know. I dinna think yer old or look to be past yer best years.” Torin glanced down at his feet, shuffling them a bit wider apart as he clenched his hands behind his back. “I think ye look quite fine.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “I…um…see.” Two patches of red flamed across Emma’s cheeks as she pushed her tousled curls away from her face. “Thank you, Torin. I think we were both probably just very tired and frustrated earlier. But I do appreciate your apology.”
Ye have no idea just how frustrated. Torin’s nostrils flared as he forced in a deep breath while his glance wandered one last time across her body. Forcing his gaze back to her face, Torin backed toward the door. “I’ll leave ye to your sleep now. Rest well, little Emma.”
Emma stared at the door as it slowly closed and the latch clicked into place. No one had ever called her little Emma. Straightening her legs beneath the cloying sheets, she pushed the bedclothes away from her body. The room suddenly seemed overly warm. How long had Torin been in the room, watching over her while she slept? She rubbed her arms, remembering the strength of his embrace and the cloak of warmth and safety she’d felt while cradled against his chest. Plucking the exploded case files off the bed, Emma forced the memory from her mind. It didn’t matter how good he’d felt. Tomorrow, he’d be gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma stared at the coffeemaker. She drummed her fingers atop the cracked tiling of the countertop, willing the black liquid dripping at an irritatingly slow drizzle to flow into the pot a little faster. Massaging the corners of her burning eyes, she leaned against the counter. It had been a long night and sleep had been elusive. Thoughts of Torin lying in the next room had tensed her into a frustrated ball of pent-up emotions. By the time morning finally dawned, her emotional energy had reduced to a weary flicker.
Prying open her puffy eyes, she glanced into the sitting area of the croft. Where was he anyway? The worn leather couch sat empty and cold in front of the hearth. Unused blankets lay folded across the pile of pillows stacked against one sagging armrest.
Emma stole a cup of coffee before the pot finished brewing with a sweeping balancing act she’d perfected in med school. She grinned as she pulled back a filled cup of coffee without spilling a drop. She still had the gift.
As she sucked in a sip of the rich dark brew, Emma closed her eyes as the burning liquid swirled inside her mouth. Ahh…that hit the spot. It was times like these she understood the elusive bliss a drug addict sought when fighting for the burn of that long awaited fix. Another gallon or two of this stuff and she just might make it through the day.
Her eyes flew open as the creaking hinges of the heavy oak door groaned in protest at being disturbed. Torin stomped into the croft, shaking water from the plaid he’d draped above
“It was just a bad dream. I have them sometimes. But I’m all right now, so you can go back to the couch. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Emma scattered the pages across the bed, tucking the sheet up under her chin as she hugged her knees to her chest.
“I meant ye no harm.” Torin flexed his hands against the rough weave of his kilt. Damnú air. His ability to talk to a woman hadn’t improved any over the centuries and neither had his memory. Why the hell had he come in here in the first place? Emma’s warm body against his chest had immediately emptied his head. The sight of Emma’s unadorned hand jolted the blood back to his brain and jogged his faulty memory. “I also wanted ye to know. I dinna think yer old or look to be past yer best years.” Torin glanced down at his feet, shuffling them a bit wider apart as he clenched his hands behind his back. “I think ye look quite fine.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “I…um…see.” Two patches of red flamed across Emma’s cheeks as she pushed her tousled curls away from her face. “Thank you, Torin. I think we were both probably just very tired and frustrated earlier. But I do appreciate your apology.”
Ye have no idea just how frustrated. Torin’s nostrils flared as he forced in a deep breath while his glance wandered one last time across her body. Forcing his gaze back to her face, Torin backed toward the door. “I’ll leave ye to your sleep now. Rest well, little Emma.”
Emma stared at the door as it slowly closed and the latch clicked into place. No one had ever called her little Emma. Straightening her legs beneath the cloying sheets, she pushed the bedclothes away from her body. The room suddenly seemed overly warm. How long had Torin been in the room, watching over her while she slept? She rubbed her arms, remembering the strength of his embrace and the cloak of warmth and safety she’d felt while cradled against his chest. Plucking the exploded case files off the bed, Emma forced the memory from her mind. It didn’t matter how good he’d felt. Tomorrow, he’d be gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma stared at the coffeemaker. She drummed her fingers atop the cracked tiling of the countertop, willing the black liquid dripping at an irritatingly slow drizzle to flow into the pot a little faster. Massaging the corners of her burning eyes, she leaned against the counter. It had been a long night and sleep had been elusive. Thoughts of Torin lying in the next room had tensed her into a frustrated ball of pent-up emotions. By the time morning finally dawned, her emotional energy had reduced to a weary flicker.
Prying open her puffy eyes, she glanced into the sitting area of the croft. Where was he anyway? The worn leather couch sat empty and cold in front of the hearth. Unused blankets lay folded across the pile of pillows stacked against one sagging armrest.
Emma stole a cup of coffee before the pot finished brewing with a sweeping balancing act she’d perfected in med school. She grinned as she pulled back a filled cup of coffee without spilling a drop. She still had the gift.
As she sucked in a sip of the rich dark brew, Emma closed her eyes as the burning liquid swirled inside her mouth. Ahh…that hit the spot. It was times like these she understood the elusive bliss a drug addict sought when fighting for the burn of that long awaited fix. Another gallon or two of this stuff and she just might make it through the day.
Her eyes flew open as the creaking hinges of the heavy oak door groaned in protest at being disturbed. Torin stomped into the croft, shaking water from the plaid he’d draped above
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