Page 13 of Irish Fire and Forbidden Love
“Is it ever?” he said quickly, like he was ready to run over anyone who tried to speak. “I’m just getting on my connecting flight. There was a major delay. Are you there now?”
“Yeah, I found the bar. It’s cute. The owner will be easy to work with.”
“Great, but remember what we talked about before? I want to buy them out completely. It sounds like the family’s desperate enough.”
Maeve was becoming a small blip in the distance, her hair whipping wildly in the air.
“What exactly happened?”
“I don’t know. Something about a gambling debt. The dad’s a bit of an idiot. Maybe you’ll have similar luck with the girl. What’s her name? Matilda?”
“Maeve, and no. We won’t. I think we should just keep the fifty percent. Not buy her out.”
It was rare that I actually shared my opinion. Most of the time I didn’t care. This was Frank’s business— his ambition. I was just there to make the sale, foster relationships, and fix things that were broken.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Frank said after a moment. “You haven’t already slept with her, have you?”
“Seriously, Frank?”
“That’s a yes, huh?”
I didn’t answer, and then neither of us spoke, something unheard of back just two years ago. Back then, I would have admitted that, yes, I’d been with Maeve. Frank and I were inseparable then. The closest two brothers could be. I’d thought buying up businesses would only strengthen us, but it had made us grow apart, with this severing us near completely.
“It’s not like that. I just don’t think we should do that. Not here.”
He harrumphed. “Whatever. I’ll see you in nine hours.” Then he hung up.
Maeve sat on the spread-out blanket, in the shadow of the great Cliffs of Moher, when I found her. The cliffs rose like a great, jagged sentinel against the restless Atlantic. A gust of wind howled through the open space, rattling the grass and pressing against my back. It was raw, untamed beauty, dancing around another untamed beauty. Maeve, with her swept back hair and fluttering dress, she could have been a goddess or nymph, sitting so still. So perfect. She was part of the scene, and I was the intruder.
“Hey, come here,” she whispered. She took my hand and pulled me toward her, guiding me down as if she had been waiting for this moment forever.
She lay on the blanket, and her hair fanned out, a wild halo of reds and golds catching the last of the dying light. She looked up at me with those amber-flecked eyes.
“Do you think you’ll stay in Ireland forever?” I asked.
An intensity shifted behind her eyes, and she looked away from me, up at the bright blue sky above. Then she sighed. “Forever’s never really crossed my mind. Everything in life is fleeting. Happiness, success, relationships. Even my bar won’t last, no matter how much I wish it would.”
“I think I get that. Nothing lasts forever.” Hell, everything I ever cared about had slipped away. Maeve would too, once she figured things out.
As if she could hear the thought, she looked at me. Her gaze wasn’t sharp, just vast. Like something ancient and unknowable. Like the universe.
“Maybe it’s okay that nothing’s forever,” she said. “Maybe the uncertainty makes us cherish it more.”
I kissed her then, and the world disappeared. Her fingers traced slow, deliberate paths over my chest, my stomach, as if memorizing me, learning me in a language only we could understand. Every touch was a promise, a plea, a silent declaration. I shivered, not just from the sensation, but from the sheer gravity of being known this intimately.
She unbuttoned my pants, but I stopped her. Taking both her wrists in one of my hands, I pushed them above her head and onto the grass. Then with my free hand, I stroked her nipples through the thin fabric. She gave a little moan, squirming only when I pressed my mouth against her breast, forcing her nipples to grow, pressing hard into the fabric.
I let go of her hands, and as she stroked my hair, tugging and pulling as I sucked just a little harder. I pulled away from her, sliding toward her inner thighs, then lifted up her dress and stuck my face beneath. It was warm within the confines of her clothes, smelling like her sweetness.
My lips traced along the delicate skin of her thighs, savoring the heat radiating from her. She trembled beneath me, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps, each one a whisper of longing. My hands held her gently, fingers pressing into her as if anchoring us both to this moment, to the space where we existed only for each other.
I moved slowly, not just to tease, but to cherish. To worship. My tongue mapped her skin, tracing not once, not twice, but three times, each motion drawing a shiver from her, each pass deepening the unspoken language between us. A quiet plea escaped her lips, a sound so vulnerable it sent a sharp ache through my chest. I wanted to give her everything.
As I tasted her, she arched into me, her fingers diving into my hair, pulling me closer and holding me there as if afraid I might disappear. Her breath hitched, caught in the space between restraint and surrender. I felt her, not just in my handsor against my mouth, but in the way her body spoke to mine, the way her pulse echoed through me.
Her thighs tightened around me, a silent cry of pleasure breaking free. Her whole body tensed, suspended in that moment of bliss, before she unraveled, shuddering. I held her through it, grounding her as she trembled, pressing soft, reverent kisses against her as she came down.
I lingered there, my mouth tracing slow, tender paths over her, feeling every aftershock, every ripple of pleasure still moving through her. When I finally pulled away, her body was loose, languid, her chest rising and falling in deep, unsteady waves. Her hand reached for me, fingers tangling in my hair, guiding me back up to her lips.
