Page 40 of Irish Rebel
“She is. Considerably.” She’d gone and let her hair loose, he thought. Why did she have to do that? It made his hands hurt, actually hurt with wanting to slide into it.
“That’s good.” She stepped in, shut the door. And because it seemed too perfect not to, audibly flipped the lock. Seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw was incredibly satisfying.
He was a drowning man, and had just gone under the first time. “Keeley, I’ve had a long day here. I was just about to—”
“Have a nightcap,” she finished. She’d spotted the teapot and the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. “I wouldn’t mind one myself.” She breezed past him to flip off the burner under the now sputtering kettle.
She’d put on different perfume, he thought viciously. Put it on fresh, too, just to torment him. He was damn sure of it. It snagged his libido like a fishhook.
“I’m not really fixed for company just now.”
“I don’t think I qualify as company.” Competently she warmed the pot, measured out the tea and poured the boiling water in. “I certainly won’t be after we’re lovers.”
He went under the second time without even the chance to gulp in air. “We’re not lovers.”
“That’s about to change.” She set the lid on the pot, turned. “How long do you like it to steep?”
“I like it strong, so it’ll take some time. You should go on home now.”
“I like it strong, too.” Amazing, she thought, she didn’t feel nervous at all. “And if it’s going to take some time, we can have it afterward.”
“This isn’t the way for this.” He said it more to himself than her. “This is backward, or twisted. I can’t get my mind around it. No, just stay back over there and let me think a minute.”
But she was already moving toward him, a siren’s smile on her lips. “If you’d rather seduce me, go ahead.”
“That’s exactly what I’m not going to do.” Though the night was cool and his windows were open to it, he felt sweat slither down his back. “If I’d known the way things were, I’d never have started this.”
That mouth of his, she thought. She really had to have that mouth. “Now we both know the way things are, and I intend to finish it. It’s my choice.”
His blood was already swimming. Hot and fast. “You don’t know anything, which is the whole flaming problem.”
“Are you afraid of innocence?”
“Damn right.”
“It doesn’t stop you from wanting me. Put your hands on me, Brian.” She took his wrist, pressed his hand to her breast. “I want your hands on me.”
The boots clattered to the floor as he went under for the third time. “It’s a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. Touch me.”
His hand closed over her. She was small, delicate, and through some momentary miracle, his. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a mistake,” he said, giving up entirely.
“We won’t let it be one.” Her head fell back as his hands began to move.
“Doesn’t matter. But I’ll be careful with you.”
Her eyes were blue and brilliant as she lifted her arms, slid her hands into his wildly waving hair. “Not too careful, I hope.”
When he swept her up in his arms she let out a shuddering sigh. “Oh, I was hoping you’d do that.” Thrilled, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “I was really hoping you’d do that.”
He turned his face into her hair, drew in the scent, held it inside him. “You’ve only to tell me what you like.”
She tipped her head back to look at him as he carried her into the bedroom. “Show me what I like.”
With moonlight and cool breezes shimmering through the open windows, he laid her on the bed. There had been moonlight the first time he’d kissed her, soft fingers of it then, as there were now. He’d never forget the look of it, or of her.
There had been few gifts in his life that had mattered, that had stayed in him, in his heart and memory. She would, he knew. She was a gift he would cherish.
