Through the Glen (The Highlands #3) Read Online Samantha Young

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Highlands Series by Samantha Young
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
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And I especially didn’t want that person to be me.

Under a cathedral of lights, uncaring of the people walking through it with us, I halted and pulled Sarah up onto her tiptoes to reach my lips. I kissed her like it would save me.

Like it might save her from me.

A voice in the back of my head told me I needed to let her go.

But I couldn’t.

Why couldn’t I?

My grip on her tightened, my kisses hard and hungry, and I might have stayed there with her forever if someone hadn’t wolf-whistled.

I reluctantly released her and she stared up at me, lips swollen, dazed, the twinkle lights reflected in those spectacular eyes of hers.

“There are children here,” a woman practically spat at us as she passed.

“Are there?” I drawled, tucking Sarah into my side. “I thought they were poorly dressed elves.”

Sarah muffled a snort, and I grinned harder.

The woman huffed and strode off.

“That there is a woman in desperate need of good sex.”

“Theo!” Sarah slapped my chest, hushing me even as her lips trembled around a smile.

“I only speak the truth.” I shrugged. “Fancy some hot mini doughnuts?”

She shook her head at me like I was a naughty schoolboy.

“No to hot doughnuts?” I gasped in teasing outrage.

“No to your nonsense.” She tugged on my hand with a roll of her eyes. “But aye to doughnuts.”

For the next hour, I led Sarah around the gardens, taking pictures, watching her as she contemplated one light display after another.

“Believe it or not,” she said after swallowing a bite of hot, sugary pastry, “this is giving me a great idea for a scene in the next book. I could take Juno to London at Christmastime. Can you imagine her being stalked through Kew Gardens by her latest suspect?”

I chuckled. “Only you, sweet Sarah, could think of a thriller scene amid a Christmas wonderland.”

She laughed, and I couldn’t help myself. I bent down to kiss her, licking at the sugar on her lips. The way her breath hitched caused an immediate tightening in my balls. “Fuck,” I murmured. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Understanding flushed her cheeks and she nodded.

It was a tense cab ride back to my flat. I held her hand between mine, stroking my fingertips over her palm. She shivered and the blood thundered in my ears.

I barely remembered the ride or paying the driver. My sole focus was on getting privacy with Sarah. My desperation for her was such that I couldn’t even take a few more steps into the bedroom. Instead, as soon as we stepped inside the flat, I used our bodies to close the door and I pressed her into it. She gasped into my kisses as I undulated against her, fumbling frantically for the zipper on her coat. Past that barricade, next were her jeans and mine.

There was just enough presence of mind left to pull a condom out of my wallet and don it before I thrust inside her snug heat. I groaned in utter relief as she cried out, her features tight with pleasure. Then I fucked her against my front door, watching her unravel, getting off on the fact that I could make her lose her mind too. My release followed on the heels of her climax.

“We’re not done,” I warned her gruffly as I ground into her, wanting more. “I plan on keeping you up all night, little darling.”

She panted for breath, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed delightfully. “No arguments here, Mr. Cavendish.”

I grinned against her throat. “There’s my good girl.”

Her inner muscles throbbed around me and I could feel myself growing hard again. My Sarah was a dichotomy. Fucking hated it when I said anything so patronizing like good girl outside of the bedroom, but when I was inside her, those words definitely hit the spot.

“Come.” I reluctantly withdrew from her. “Let’s christen my bed before I take you against the door again.”

Nineteen

THEO

Despite rowing every day since we’d arrived in London, I still felt my muscles tiring quicker than usual. I was out of shape.

I breathed through the burn, my eyes flicking from the screen where my avatar cut through the Thames, to the television screen mounted on the wall. The machine wasn’t the same as rowing on water. Since my rowing team from Oxford had found it increasingly difficult to meet up over the years, I’d taken to single-scull rowing. I’d even invested in a scull that I stored at a facility near the Thames. But it had been more than two months since I’d visited it.

Watching the weather on TV, I noted it was mild enough for the next week to go out there. The problem was I’d become a little consumed with Sarah. Today was the first day since our arrival that we’d parted. She’d wanted to meet her agent by herself, so I’d put her in a cab and sent her on her way.



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