Blindsided (Harris Brothers World, #2)

by Amy Daws

That’s a Scot for you. They’re overbearing, loud-mouthed, no boundary-having, spirited animals who are sweet, cosy cuddlers one minute and beating the fuck out of someone who looks at them sideways the next. Or perhaps that’s just Mac?

I am a short, round Cornish seamstress with a West Country accent that only gets thicker when I’m flustered. I’m obsessed with cats, and my freckles look like the Milky Way galaxy on a clear night.” “I love your freckles!” he barks, splaying one hand out on the counter and using his other hand to bop my nose. “They make me want to play connect the dots on your wee face.” “That’s not a compliment!”

into my space, grabs me by my shoulders, and turns me to face the mirror again. “See how nice your hair looks draped over your bare shoulders. Your skin, freckles included, is striking, aye?” His hands slide down my arms. “The creamy colour of your skin is attractive and lush. Sensual when exposed.” His hands slip around to cup my waist, and my ears burst into flames. “Now, see how this dress shows off your shape? It doesn’t hide your tits, which is good because you have some damn nice tits on you, Cookie. You’d do well to see them as a virtue rather than a fault.” “And your legs,” he says, and my insides clench when his hands slide from my waist to my hips and then down the outsides of my thighs, causing a riot of goosebumps to erupt over my skin. “They’re fucking bonnie, and any lad would be right lucky to have them wrapped around him.” His gaze lifts from my legs to my flabbergasted eyes, and his heated look makes my nipples tighten. “Your size and your shape are bonnie, and you don’t need to trip over your words in front of a guy you fancy because you should never doubt how beautiful you are.” He swallows a seemingly uncomfortable lump in his throat, and adds, “But even if I can’t cure you of this warped view you have about your body, you need to remember you’re funny, and smart, and talented, with loads of other qualities that make the fact that you’re drop-dead gorgeous a really nice perk. Any man would be lucky to talk to you.”

Mac exits quickly, and I find myself gasping for air as everything he said sinks in. I then realise with great surprise that my best friend just took my breath away.

No, no, no,” I beg and pull backwards against his pressure, but it’s no use. He’s way stronger than me. Mac laughs at my resistance. “I need to meet this coffee snob and make sure he’s good enough for you.” “No, you don’t,” I plead, and my ears begin to boil. “You really don’t. I’m not ready for this. We’ve only had one lesson!” “You’re ready,” his voice is firm. “I’m going to help you, so no worries.” “Yes, worries. Lots and lots of worries!” Mac practically shoves me through the

She’s being a cautious kisser. I hate cautious kissers. Kissing shouldn’t be safe. It’s an animalistic act. It’s connecting on a fundamental level that humans should embrace with their base instincts, not their minds. I know she had a bad experience earlier tonight, but I’m her best mate. She doesn’t need to worry with me.

I’m doing everything I can to give her something to respond to, and I almost growl with pride when her tongue slips out and gently moves against mine. That’s it, Cookie. Let go. Let your gut take over and just give in. With a shuddered breath, I tilt my head and deepen the kiss. She responds in kind, her lips sliding over mine as my tongue draws hers out to play. Truly play. Our tongues stroke each other in a perfect rhythm that’s ramping up to something resembling indecency. When her hand falls from my forearm onto my lap, and her fingers brush over my groin, I realise it’s not just our kiss that’s become indecent.

Freya is not a bad kisser. In fact, she’s quite good. Too good apparently because my hand is inside my shorts and I’m stroking myself while picturing my best mate’s lips wrapped around my cock instead of that idiot’s fucking shite cheese. Fuck me, what have I done?

“You’re going to have to stop being mean to me, Freya, or I’m going to fall in love with you.” Freya’s anger disappears. “What?” I shoot her a wink. “I get a stiffy for the mean ones.”

Grandad always told me it was better to get that salt out of your eyes than have it festering in your belly. Grief is a strange, wicked creature.

“Freya, when you told me you loved me in my car that day, I wasn’t ready to hear it then.” “And I’m not ready to hear you say it now, Mac!” Her hands lift helplessly. “You just lost your grandfather. You should be focusing on your grief, not using me as a crutch to get through your pain. You lost that right when you broke my heart two months ago.” Her words pierce through my heart, but what kills me is the finality of her tone.

she arches into my touch. Biting my lip, I roll her nipples between my fingers and watch her with rapt fascination as she throws her head back, her moans loud and dead fucking sexy as she rocks herself on top of me, taking my cock deeper with every thrust of her hips. Desperate to taste her, I sit up, my lips crashing into hers, as I hug her body to mine, feeling her bare chest against mine as my need boils over like water in a pot.