Page 26 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

Relief allows me to breathe deeply again.

The topic moves to the books in the library and our favorite books until we’re both finished.

I confirm she’s done before taking both our plates into the kitchen. I rinse off the plates but don’t bother trying to fill the dishwasher. Aoife has a painful right hand, and apparently, I don’t know how to do it properly.

I curse as I find there’s only one piece of tiramisu. It’s my favorite dessert, and I’m not willing to give it up. There were supposed to be two. Did Aoife take it home? Or had I not checked the bag when I picked it up? Shit.

I’m back in the dining room. “Darlin’, how do you feel about tiramisu for dessert?”

Those hazel eyes glow brightly. “Oh, it’s my favorite.”

“Are you willing to share the piece? There should have been two. Except I can’t find it. It’s a big piece—we’ll both get enough.”

One corner of her sexy as fuck mouth lifts. It goes right to my cock. “I’m willing to share.”

I grab two forks and take them into the dining room with the tiramisu.

“That’s a huge piece.” She smiles big again.

“What is that grin about?”

Shaking her head, she laughs. “You. I don’t know. It’s obvious you work out. I thought you’d be one of those people who didn’t eat anything but a strict protein diet. With steak yesterday and the veal with broccoli tonight.”

I admit. “I have a sweet tooth. My lunch is usually the heaviest of what I eat throughout the day. So dinner usually has to be lighter because I still want cake or whatever delicious thing Aoife has made for the house.”

“A man admitting to a sweet tooth.” Her wide eyes tease me.

Fuck, my cock aches. Forking off a bite, I offer it to her. She keeps her mouth closed. I don’t move the fork or say a word. Finally, she gives in and takes the bite. A small moan comes out of her, and my cock fucking breaks.

“This is the best damn tiramisu in the city. Darlin’, I’m the last man to deny myself pleasure. Whether it’s chocolate, sugar, or the taste of your skin.”

A blush sweeps over her beautiful face down to her chest. She jumps up. “I’m full. Goodnight.”

I don’t move as she nearly runs out of the room, taking the stairs so fast I pray she doesn’t fall. The sound of her bedroom door slamming fills the entire house.

It’s a long time before I can bring myself to move.

I climb into bed,almost ready to collapse after spending two hours in my home gym. Every muscle in my body aches. It was the only thing I could think of to keep away from her.

A whimper has me sitting up. I don’t even think, and I’m out of my room. I’m glad her door isn’t locked. She’s still asleep. Having a nightmare.

Fuck. I freeze, unsure of what to do. My name comes out of her, dripping with fear. The only light is through a thin sliver of the moon through the heavy curtains.

Did she think I would hurt her? It’s a gut punch. Tears are escaping her. Even though I’m aware I should leave her—I can’t take the tears.

My hand is on her shoulder. I give her a small shake. “Miranda, love, it’s a dream. Wake up, darlin’.”

She gasps. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare. Are you okay?” I trail my hand away.

Her small hand catches mine. “Is that scar on your side from a gunshot .. ?” It’s a whisper.

Ah, she didn’t think I would hurt her. She was worried I would be hurt.

I’m fucked all to hell that the simple touch of her small hand clutching mine is the most erotic thing I’ve experienced in my long and filthy life. That it destroys all will within me to open my mouth and answer her question. Because I know it will push her further away from me.

“It is. Isn’t it?” She knows the answer. It’s a test. I told her I would always be honest with her when I could be.

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