Loving the Scot Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors: Flora Ferrari Advertisement

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I’ve grown accustomed to it naturally over the course of my life, but with her awe taken into consideration, I can see it a little bit like it’s the first time again.

She’s right. It is stunning. I never let myself forget how lucky I am for this to be my home, but right now, it’s hitting me particularly hard.

Barnbraw is mine, but I know I would feel the urge to fight to make it so if it wasn’t.

And when I look at the young woman next to me, I feel the same way.

She has to be mine – no matter what it takes, even if it takes all of my power. I will shower her with expensive gifts or hire someone to look over the estate for me. Then, I can fly back to the States with Alana just to be with her for a while.

I have to claim her.

“Oh, look!” Alana exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth as if realizing she should be quieter. I watch her wide eyes, full of wonder, before turning to see what it is that has her so excited.

It’s the herd, of course. The great old stag, which Hamish and I affectionately call Landseer after the famous painting, is leading his does to graze across an area of land not too far from us.

They are right on cue for their usual schedule, which impresses me. After yesterday, I thought they might be more cautious.

Perhaps they know their Laird will protect them. The thought fills me with pride, even if there’s no real way to confirm it. I like to think that they have enough of a sense of me to know.

That no matter what happens, I will protect them from harm.

A stirring in my blood tells me I might want to do the same for the woman beside me, too.

I shift, and my elbow brushes against hers, half intentional and half accidental, a consequence of choosing such close quarters to hide in. I hear the hitch in her breath and mark it in my head as we make contact.

She doesn’t pull away as I rest my elbow at an angle that extends it out toward her. I’m sure I feel her shift subtly toward me as well, ensuring that our contact is sustained.

I’m even more sure of it when I glance out of the corner of my eye and see her quickly look away from me, her cheeks bright red.

I’m not a teenager anymore – it’s been a long since I was.

I’m not about to waste time trying to be coy or pretending I don’t want her. Not when I do want her – more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.

There is a time for games in life, but I’m past that.

I turn fully toward her, allowing my gaze to rake over her once more.

This close, I can see the delicate lines of her lashes outlined in a shadow under her eyes, how they frame them, and how the bright light from outside catches the blueness of her irises.

The pout of her mouth is full and begging to be kissed, and lower, I can’t help but admire the swell of her cleavage across the top of the dress she is wearing.

I can’t help but want to explore with my hands what my eyes can see.

I wait until she stops pretending she doesn’t know I’m watching her and looks back at me, her cheeks dusted pink at the attention.

She has an endearing shyness about her, but it won’t be that way forever.

First, I will show her how to be confident in herself. Teach her how beautiful she is. How every man she walks past ought to worship the ground she walks on.

She bites her lip as she looks up at me, her eyes wide and uncertain, asking a question that I’m sure she doesn’t have the confidence to voice properly unless I prompt her.

There is no need for words though.

I can feel the heat of her body, how she sways slightly closer to me rather than away now that we find ourselves touching, and how her eyes flicker down to my lips as if she can’t resist the sight.

I don’t need her to.

I lean down, closing the very small distance between us until all that remains is a hair's breadth of space between our lips, so close that an accidental flinch could make us touch.

I stop, my eyes meeting hers, daring her to take what she wants.

I need her to know that she can have it and to see that she wants to be claimed as much as I want to claim her.

She moves, just a tiny fraction of an inch, her eyes sliding shut, and then our lips collide.

The feel of her warm mouth against mine, soft and pliable, is too much.

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