Page 10 of Troubles

“So, you ran away.” It’s not a question, she says it like a fact.

“I did. But I think I landed well.”

We linger over coffee and dessert, conversation turning back to her school and my work—my photography. We share a dense, decadent chocolate cake, and thank fuck she’s focused on that, because I can’t take my eyes off her. The way her lips slide the gooey sweet chocolate off the fork. The way her tongue darts out to lick at every last bit. The way her eyes flutter closed, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. The moan that escapes her lips. I want to put that look on her face. I want to own that.

Christ, I have to calm this shit down or the walk to her door will kill me.

After settling the bill, I pull out her chair and guide her into the soft evening air. The walk back to her flat is leisurely and relaxed. This town is quaint—quiet and safe-feeling. The walkways are lined with trees and the business owners decorate their storefronts. Idyllic, really. The biggest danger to Lis right now is me. My thoughts are anything but pure and wholesome.

At her door, she turns to me. “Thank you. I…this was great. Thank you.” Her lips—fuck—they soften and lift sweetly at the corners.

“It was my pleasure, Lisbeth. Thank you.” I reach my hand up to cup her cheek and lean in for a good night kiss. Chaste. Respectful.

But all my good intentions ignite, the moment my lips touch hers. I slide my hand through her silky hair to the back of her head. She gasps in a breath and parts her lips.

That moment.

That. Right. There.

I slide my tongue along her lips and taste the sweet hint of chocolate. It’s overwhelming but not nearly enough. I deepen the kiss, tasting her. Our tongues tangle and fight for control.

My senses return when I hear and feel her moan low in her throat. That noise—the one from the restaurant. The one that she gave the cake, but I wanted for myself. I stop. I have to. Placing a truly chaste kiss on her forehead, I take her keys, opening the door.

“Good night, love.” I need to bang my head against the fucking wall and go before I get carried away. I turn and head down the stairs. To safety.

My flat is empty when I get there. I need time and a glass of whiskey to sort myself. Tonight’s distraction became an emotional carnival ride.

She’s beautiful, and intriguing, and I want nothing more than to spend ridiculous amounts of time with her. Learning her, knowing her. Christ, the way I want to know her. The taste of her lips, and the ways they move. Her curves just barely hinted at under that dress she wore tonight. My thoughts are sinful, at best.

Eyes closed, I lay my head back against the cushions of the sofa and let my mind go—just for a minute. I can’t stop it. Her chest rising and falling. Her pulse thumping to match mine. The feel of her skin beneath my fingertips. The pale pink flush on her cheeks as it creeps down into the neckline of her dress caressing the tops of her breasts. The featherlight touch as she moves her hands up my chest to land on my shoulders.

Fuck.

The key scrapes in the lock and I reach for one of the throw pillows on the sofa, jamming it down across my crotch and rest my tumbler of whiskey on top. Looking fucking casual, if I do say so. Finn tumbles through the door with a tiny little blond thing. That’s just what I need tonight; to hear them through the thin-as-shit walls. His “friend” is completely engrossed in him and hardly acknowledges me, but the laughing grin from Finn speaks volumes. Shoving the pillow aside now that I’m no longer going to embarrass myself, I grab my earbuds and glass, and head up to my loft bedroom.

The squeals and giggles floating up the stairs promise to make tonight unbearable. I need to invest in noise-canceling headphones. Doesn’t matter how loud I crank the volume, I can still hear them, Finn and his pixie. I try my best to ignore them and just fall asleep, but I give up. Before I register what’s happening, my hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my boxer briefs. Between the noises coming from downstairs and my lingering thoughts of Lisbeth, I reach in and grip my cock, stroking firmly. The release is not nearly satisfying—not near as good as what I imagine with Lis.

Francie meets me at the door of the bar the next morning ready to tear into me. He was either waiting by the window or heard my piece-of-shit car coming from a mile away.

“The fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he bellows, throwing his hands in the air spilling coffee all over the floor. I should have expected this. Talking Jimmy into trading shifts with me had been no big deal, but I hadn’t thought about how bad the fallout would be today. I’ve got to work a full double shift now, I’m stuck here until closing.

“Francie, I took her out to dinner. That’s it.” I try to speak calmly, like I’m trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I walked her to her door and used my manners—made sure she was safe home and tucked away for the night. What did you think I was going to do to her?” He’s being ridiculous.

Huffing a big breath out through his nose, Francie glares. “I’ve already talked to Lissy. I am well aware that ye behaved the gentleman.” What the fuck? “But that girl has been through enough. She doesn’t need you to work her up, lead her on and break her heart, Aidan. She doesn’t need that shite again.” He looks devastated, fucking heartbroken for her.

“Francie, what happened with Lisbeth? I know her family is not involved, but something else must have happened to put you in this mode…” I move him toward the bar and grab his coffee cup to refill it for him while I grab some for myself.

We’re going to settle this. I need to know what’s got him so up in knots. Fuck, I need to know what I’m dealing with in her.

I’m clearly invested in this girl—but I’m not prepared for the shite I pull out of Francie over the next hour while I clean and prep McBride’s for the busy Thursday night. It takes some prodding and a little Jameson in his coffee, but I think I get it. All of it. The whole shitty story of the fucking bastard that broke her heart.

Francie assures me that I’ll not have to deal with the arse and Lisbeth’s sister, but, God help me, if I don’t feel my heart squeeze. I get it, now—Francie’s protection over her, Finn and Jimmy’s affection—she’s family to them. They’re family to her. Blood may be thicker than water, but love is thicker than anything.

7

Lis

That kiss. The sweet touches throughout the night simmered on the walk back to my apartment and then when he kissed me? I thought I was going to melt right there.

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