Scot on the Run by Janice Maynard

Author:Janice Maynard [Maynard, Janice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“I’m not a hero,” he insisted stubbornly. “I created a product that saves lives. The military lads and lasses who do the water rescues are the heroes.”

“Whatever you say. Your modesty doesn’t negate the fact that the freaking Queen of England is going to pin a medal on your chest. This is huge, Ian. You should be proud.”

“It’s a medallion, actually. On a fancy ribbon,” he muttered. He was losing the battle. That just wouldn’t do. He’d made up his mind. If he had to go put on a monkey suit and show up at the queen’s residence in Edinburgh, Bella Craig was going to be at his side. It was the only idea that made the upcoming event remotely bearable.

“Fifty thousand pounds,” he said desperately. “To the charity of your choice. In exchange for three days of your company.”

Bella had changed since last night. Up until yesterday, he’d been learning to read her facial expressions and the emotional cues in her lovely, deep blue eyes. Now, in the cold light of day, she seemed almost a stranger. It was a peculiar transformation considering they had both been naked in each other’s arms only a few short hours ago.

Frankly, it had been the best sex of his life. So much so, he’d virtually lost consciousness at the end. A mixture of exhaustion, spent adrenaline, and sexual satiation had left him comatose. Waking up alone this morning was a blow to the gut. Bella had backed away from him. Why, he didn’t know.

In retrospect, she had seemed eager and responsive every step of the way. Surely she’d had an orgasm there at the end. Hadn’t she?

Mortification sent heat racing from his throat to his hairline. Holy hell. He had no clue if Bella had climaxed or not. He’d been so ridiculously wound up from months of abstinence, desperately wanting Bella, and the residual effects of making a fool of himself with the reporters that he had completely lost his senses at the last.

No wonder she was cool and distant today. He’d coaxed her into bed and then left her high and dry.

She stood up unexpectedly and carried the pitcher of cream to the fridge, her back to him. “That’s a lot of money, even for Bachelor # 2. You’re being ridiculous, Ian. Either go on your own, or ask one of your scientist buddies. You said some of them are women.”

“I don’t want another woman,” he said urgently. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Please, sweet Bella. I need you with me. I swear I do.” Resting his chin on top of her head, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo.

She eluded his grasp and leaned against the sink, arms folded across her chest. “You really don’t know much about the female sex, do you?”

The tart question was clearly rhetorical.

He shrugged. “I never claimed to. Are you going to tell me why you didn’t linger this morning for round two?”

A spot of red appeared on each of her cheeks.

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