Page 10 of Irish Fire and Forbidden Love
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m going to pay her extra, but I told her not to clean it up.”
“You think cleaning was an excuse to stay?”
“Yeah, which is funny coming from her. Ms. Sleep-around. Not that I’m judging on that, but you’d think she’d lighten up with me.”
“I take it you don’t do this very often?” I said, leaning my elbow on the cushion beside her.
She laughed. “Not in the slightest. Actually, I’ve never brought a guy here.”
“I should feel honored then,” I said.
“I wasn’t trying to save myself. It just… it never felt right with anyone else.” A slight pink dusted her cheeks, then she quickly added, “Well, I just mean?—”
“It felt pretty good with you, too,” I said. We kissed again, and I made this one slow, methodical, feeling every fragment of her lips. Every tastebud on her tongue.
I pulled away, and she stayed still for a second, her lips still pursed. Then she quickly fixed her expression and turned toward her window. “When I first arrived here, I was convinced that I’d find some Irish guy and gain citizenship.”
I laughed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She caught my eye.
“So, you’re saying I’m a disappointment?”
“Yeah, can’t you gain some citizenship? It would make things a lot easier.”
I laughed. “You know, for how often I come up here, you’d think I’d have citizenship. My grandma does. She actually lives in Dublin.”
She frowned. “How often do you come here?”
Here was yet another perfect opportunity to come clean about everything. To tell her both mine and my brother’s plans, but again, I was a coward. No wonder my brother felt the need to push my boundaries so often. If I didn’t have someone doing it, then I’d never get anything done. Or I’d dig a deep hole for myself, like I was doing here.
“During our busy season? Probably every few months, staying several weeks at a time.”
“That’s what you’re doing here? You’ll be here for just a few weeks?” She cocked her head to the side, and I could feel her prying me apart, like she really could see into my soul.
“I leave on the tenth of next month,” I said, and while I was grateful to at least give her one of my truths, she frowned.
“Right.” Her voice was soft, like she was drifting away from me, even as we were physically close. I wanted to shout at her, to pull her back from the edge, pull her back to me, but I just sat there, watching it happen.
“Well, you know, I’m pretty tired. I should probably go to bed,” she said.
“Are you asking me to leave?” I said, and before she could answer, I added, “Because I don’t want to leave.” I wouldn’t ever leave if she let me stay, but I didn’t say any of that because I knew how crazy that sounded.
We’d only just met, and I was wishing to be with her forever. It had been a while since I’d been with someone, who made me feel the way she did, but that was no excuse. She needed someone more level-headed than me. And maybe I should have left right then, given her the space she so sorely was crying out for, but then she spoke.
“You can stay, if you’d like.”
“I’d very much like to stay.” I kissed her, and that was enough permission for me to pick her up and take her to bed.
Her room was simply furnished with a scattering of paintings similar to the Dylan Thomas oil on canvas of her. Only these were other characters: Mrs. Willy Nilly, Captain Cat, Butcher Beynon, and others I didn’t recognize, but figured they were in the same collection based on the art style.
“The painter, Daniel, doesn’t really have a place to stash these. His house is full of his other pieces,” she explained.
“So, you’ll hang all the others up, but not the one of you?” I asked.
“It’s easier to look at your friends than yourself.”
I cocked my head at her. “Is it? For someone as bold as you during sex, I would have thought you’d be more confident.” Her face crumpled slightly, and I quickly said, “Sorry that came out worse than I intended. I just meant?—”
