‘That’s what it has to be, right?’ I asked, looking up at him with questioning eyes. My heart was beating fast, my stomach heavy with butterflies. I didn’t want it to be, and I realised that now. The idea of walking out of here, leaving him, never seeing him again, only thinking of him as ‘that hot Scottish guy I once met’ … it didn’t feel right. And as I looked into his eyes, I knew he felt the same way.

‘It can be whatever we want it to be,’ Dylan said huskily. He put his hand out to me. ‘Come to me.’

I gave him a look. ‘You come to me.’

He let out a little growl. ‘God, you’re infuriating.’ He strode across the floor and pulled me into his arms, kissing me hard on the mouth. I reached my hand up, pressing my fingers into his thick dark hair as we stumbled back towards the sofa. He sat down, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, shrugging off my coat as he kissed my neck. I pulled his jumper over his head and took in his muscled chest and the curve of his biceps. I looked up at him, his flushed high cheekbones and full lips, his hair so dark it looked like coal, and those dark eyes, full of desire.

Then his face softened and he gently unbuttoned the cardigan I’d borrowed from Rhonda and helped me shrug out of it, his eyes never leaving mine. He pushed my T-shirt up, his fingertips hot on my bare skin as they reached the edge of my bra. I gave a quick gasp and he paused.

‘Want me to stop?’ he asked mischievously.

I squirmed beneath him. ‘No, don’t you dare.’

He smiled and continued pushing my T-shirt up until my bra was exposed. His dark eyes took me all in, then he looked back at my face, his thumb casually beginning to circle my nipple over the thin material of my bra. I put my knuckles to my mouth, suppressing another moan as I turned my head.

‘You’re like a kettle about to go off,’ he whispered.

‘Several months in the Orkney Islands without anyone touching you does that to a girl.’

‘Touch? You mean like this?’ he said, dipping his thumb beneath the cotton of my bra and playing with my nipple as his other hand undid the buckle of my belt.

‘Yes, just like that,’ I whispered.

He leant down, replacing his thumb with his tongue on my nipple, lowering his head until he got to my belly button. Then he looked up, slowly unzipping my jeans as he watched me.

‘You’re a tease,’ I said, stroking his hair.

‘Nope, just a man wanting to take his time over an amazing dish.’

‘A not bad dish,’ I countered.