Page 17 of Kick Out of It

“Come?”

Nora breaks out in a fit of giggles. “No! I come all the time by myself. I haven’t had sex since…”

“Your husband?” The words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. Nora nods and I begin pressing soft kisses to every inch of her skin available to me. It’s no wonder she’s been so hesitant about this, about us. I shouldn’t take it personally that she’s guarded. She deserves more than a night, and I want to give her… Fuck, I want to give her everything. “You came here to talk, so talk to me. Right now, you’re not a reporter or a mum. You’re my little night owl who has consumed my thoughts for the better part of a year. We don’t have to have sex?—”

“Ronan, stop. Thank you for being sweet and considerate and saying all of the right things I should want to hear.” Nora slides her palms up my chest and rests them on my shoulders. “No more talking.”

“I need to know you’re okay with this.”

She cups my neck, bringing our lips within a breath of each other. “Show me why I should be.”

My cock will hate me for it, but I know deep down if I dare sink myself inside her, it’ll be one night and I’ll lose her. “No. As much as I want to hear you scream my name with my cock buried deep inside you, I can’t tonight. I’ve waited too long for you, Nora.” I press a soft kiss to her neck. “Every morning you are the first thing I think about. I’m afraid if I indulge myself, I’ll wake up to find you’re gone, like it was all just a dream.”

Nora lets out a long sigh. “You’re not going to let me be a one night stand, are you?”

“Not a chance.” With a groan, I distance myself from my temptress and rush to my chest of drawers against the opposite wall of my bed. Flinging open the second from the top, I take out two nearly identical Cork FC shirts, and toss one at her. “Unless you’re rooting for another club these days?”

She catches it with a chuckle, and holds it out in front of her to examine it. “This will leave little to the imagination, Mr. O’Leary. You expect me to sleep with you wearing this?”

“I’d rather you sleep naked, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

“Ronan!” she laughs, tossing the shirt at me.

“So, no shirt? Got it.”

Nora rushes from the bed to retrieve the top and I hold it over her head. We’re both on the balls of our feet, chests pressed against one another, as we fight for the arbitrary garment. I fucking snap, throwing the shirt onto the bed and wrapping myarm around her to keep her close. Mere seconds that feel like hours pass between us, as we catch our breath from the faux struggle. The moment she licks her lips, it almost does me in.

I want… No, I fuckingneedto kiss her again, anywhere she’ll let me.

What’s one more small, innocent kiss before I’m friendzoned?

Nora decides for us, hesitantly cupping my neck, and bringing her lips to mine in a sweet kiss that nearly rips my heart out of my chest. She’s so damn cautious, worried I might have sensory overload. To be fair, I am, but in a way I could never properly articulate.

The adrenaline from before is gone, and all of my senses are heightened. I taste a hint of mint—likely chewing gum—along with something smokey like she had steak for dinner. Her lips are warm, inviting, and soft as a damn pillow. All sound is drowned out to the point that even the faint flickering light on the side table in the other room isn’t audible to me. She smells sweet, like a spring day in the fields after a light rain. I don’t dare open my eyes and cast my sights on the beauty before me. If I do, I’ll haul her off to the chapel and marry her on the spot.

We slowly break apart and she touches her swollen lips. There’s a hint of fear in her eyes, and I could place bets on her walking out of here right now. I’m more than pleasantly surprised when I’m wrong, and a drunken smile tilts her lips.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

I huff a small laugh. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I thought you said you were going to behave yourself? And you go and kiss me like that?”

“I am behaving myself.” I clutch my chest, feigning shock. “I’m wounded, truly.”

Nora bites her lips and snatches the shirt off the bed as I look for mine which somehow ended up discarded on the floor. “You’re right; we definitely shouldn’t…” She searches for the words, and it’s damn cute that she won’t say ‘fuck.’ “If you want me to stay the night, I need proper bedroom attire, Mr. O’Leary.” My name comes out as a purr.

“Fucking hell, Nor,” I groan, looking to the ceiling. “You can’t call me that.”

A small kiss is pressed to my throat as she whispers, “And what would you have me call you?”

Yours.

“You win. You can call me whatever the fuck you’d like.”

Nora slings the shirt over her shoulder and saunters off to the ensuite, calling back to me, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

CHAPTER 8

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