I was quiet as I packed our belongings. Two nights seemed hardly enough to enjoy wedding bliss.

Jamie seemed to posses the power of mind reading. “Lass, we can make love anywhere.” He chuckled.

I looked up at him, startled. “But CC and Vin. . .” I spoke, trailing off. I could feel my cheeks turning pink.

The handsome Scot snorted. “We’re marriet, Tracy. Marriet couple make love oft times. They’ll need tae get used tae the fact that ye squeal when I tickle ye right!”

“James Fraser!” I threw my rolled up socks at him. “You are disgusting!”

“Ye didna feel that way a few hours ago.” He answered catching my sock missile. His tone was filled with humor. “And I like the way ye squeal, aye?”

It was difficult to get angry with the large, blue eyed, redhead. His smile and boyish laughter filled me with mirth and delight. “You aren’t exactly quiet yourself,” I told him as he tossed the socks into the suitcase. “I feel odd even having this conversation.”

He raised his russet colored brows. “Why? We’re marriet and we will be makin’ a lot o’ noise!”

I felt my cheeks grow hot. “Well, this is new to me...”

“I ken, lass. Ye dinna need tae be shy wi’ me.”

“What should I be?” I uttered nervously, wringing my cool, pale hands.

“Ye, o’ course. Ye canna be someone else, aye? `Tis all right tae feel shy, I just want ye tae ken that ye dinna need tae be shy wi’ me.”

I closed the suitcase. “You’d think that someone would have written a book on how to behave once the first sex is over. . . How not to be shy. I mean, they write so many other sex books.”

He chortled. “We dinna need books, lass. Experience is much better!” He tried to wink, blinking instead.

I reached up and touched his freshly shaven cheek. “You’re adorable,” I stated bluntly. He was right, we did not need books and it was easier to be myself.

His face was very warm underneath my touch. I found it endearing that such a man could blush. He was such a unique blend of man, and I had him. He was mine! “Mine,” I whispered possessively.

“Mmmphmmm. I like being someone’s. . . Ye are mine, lass, make nay mistake about that.”

“So now I am property?” I teased him with a grin.

“Aye, o’ the finest stock, well beyond simple property.” He chuckled. “Though, your bum is no’ much more than bone.”

“Are you saying I have a bony ass?” I demanded, astonished.

“Aye.” He gathered duffle bags and suitcases. “A lass needs fat. A man needs something tae hold on tae. But ye do fine, Calman Geal.”

I felt complimented and insulted all at once, his endearment of “white dove” compelled me to forgive him instantly. “All my life, I was raised on the belief men wanted something skinny and sexy, and now you just waltz into this century telling me chubby is good.” I laughed softly, part of me pleased that I didn’t have to cut off my chocolate supply.

“Aye. A woman must ha’ curves and she must be soft.” His eyes twinkling. “Ye are still bonny, though, ye ken?”

I shook my head with a laugh. “You’re amazing, you know that? I have never met anyone quite like you. . . You are one of a kind.”

He flushed and grinned. “Ye’ll be thankin’ God for that one, lass!”

Surprised, I raised my brows at him. “Why on earth do you say that?”

Fraser laughed, shaking his head.

I loved his laughter, it was intoxicating and contagious and I found myself laughing right along with him. Never, had a man made me feel so good. Jamie was becoming my friend, and that was very important to me.

“I am pleased tae see ye smiling.” He informed me as he walked to the mirror, tugging at the crotch of the khaki colored pants I had chosen for him. “These clothes, howe’er, dinna please me.”

“You have never worn pants? Ever?”

He made a deep sound in his throat. “The fit is different. Made tae fit m’ body, ye ken? The fabric was less stiff, tae!”

“It’s a shame that kilts aren’t Chicago fashion right now,” I murmured. “I wish we could stay a few more days.” I sat on the bed once again. “Sleeping in comfort. . .” I yawned once, stretching out.

“Mmmphmmm.” He picked up the television remote control.

“Blissful sex on this comfy bed. . .”

“Mmmmphmmmmm. . .” Idly, he flipped through the channels, stopping. His eyes bulged and his jaw went slack.

I turned my attention to the television, my own eyes widening. He had stopped on one of those talk shows, the feature being women who had overly large breast implants. The woman speaking had basketball size breasts pressing against a skimpy tank top. “Good Lord! Jamie, turn that off!” My face flamed.

“She isna human!” he declared, riveted.

“Don’t tell me you like them big like that!” I groaned. “They’re implants, fake implants. Lots of women get fake breasts to look bigger.”

He faced me. “How? How d’ they d’ it?”

“Well, the most common way is, cutting them open and inserting a bag full of silicone. . . Looks like a clear jelly. . .and sewing a person back up. It can be really dangerous if they break.”

My red headed Adonis shook his head. “`Tis a foolish thing, aye? God makes us the way we look for a reason.” His brow furrowed.

“Many men love it,” I uttered a cry when his hands roughly seized my breasts, giving them a hearty squeeze.

“Are these real?” he demanded.

“Ouch!” I flinched and slapped his hands. “Of course they are! Getting those implants cost money! Treat them kindly.”

“Mmmphmmm,” he grunted. “A big bum is better than having big...” He trailed off, touching my breasts again.

I stepped back. “You think women should have ass implants instead?”

He brightened with a broad smile. “I would say ‘aye’ but I reckon they’d break the first time a bum was reddened.”

“Put it in your ‘Barbarian’s Guide to the Future’ book,” I quipped. “I guess we better meet CC and Vin. . .”

“Let them come find us. I want. . .what ye call a quickie, lass. Touching ye, it made me needy.”

“Jamie. . .I don’t know if we--” My words were silenced by his kiss.

I went weak when his tongue teased my lips while one hand slid behind me, stroking my backside while the other slid to the front, undoing my jeans. I whimpered when his hand slid underneath my panties, fingers slipping between my legs to toy my most intimate spot.

I began suckling on his tongue and barely heard the persistent knocking on the door.

((Author's note: The boob grab was inspired by an idea given to me by Gael a few months back.))

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