Page 44 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“Lightweight,” he spit out with a laugh.
She exerted pressure to push him to the side and he let her, rolling with it. His eyes fired blowtorch blue as she climbed on top of him. “You leave me no choice. I’m going to have to show you what happens when you call me names.”
“So long as you call me Declan while you’re doing it, I won’t mind.”
“I can handle that. Declan. Let’s see about my training.”
Her mouth discovered him, something she’d been imagining all day while she waited for him to come to her, hoping he would. His breath caught and then came out in a ragged exhale. His groans delighted her as her teeth found sensitive places on his body. She was careful with the bruised parts this time. There was plenty to feast on, and feast she did. He had his eyes closed and his hands fisted at his sides when she finally lowered herself onto him and took him inside her.
The feel of him was delicious, and she arched back, pressing their hips together in one fluid line of passion. His hands rose to grip her hips, and they began another urgent rhythm, less wild but no less powerful. When she came, he followed, and she lay on his chest, his hand stroking her back in an easy caress. Inside her, the soft glow of her orgasm began to spread. Her heart seemed to catch fire until all she was, all she could imagine being, was a warm, beating heart.
The smell of oranges came to her then. But with his arms around her, she found she didn’t mind.
Indeed, she was downright thankful, although she didn’t plan to tell Sorcha. Yet.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Declan lay facedown in pure bliss.
He hadn’t known he could feel this good. That anything could feel this good. His life was filled with contrasts. In boxing, he felt only invigorating torture. Here, in her arms, sweeping ecstasy. No middle ground for Declan McGrath, it seemed. No one who knew him would be surprised.
Kathleen’s hands were now working his shoulders, digging into the sore muscles. He’d never been a man who understood or sought out pampering, but if this was how things were going to be between them, he was ready to fight off his every fear about relationships. “I could get used to this. Your hands might as well have been touched by the fairies.”
Her gusty laughter made him smile. “I like that. Imagine how much better my sculpture will be for it.”
He craned his neck to look back at her, and what a sight she was, straddling his back in her glorious nudity. He never wanted to see her clothed again. “Tell me more about the new plan for your ship.”
“I like you wanting to know.” Her thumbs found sore tissue in his trapezius and dug in, making him groan. “I’m revising it to stand seventy-five feet tall.”
“How much is that in meters?” She arched back for her phone, the sight of her strong yet slender body making him start to sweat again. God she was lovely. Beautiful. Bright. “Maybe I’m tired or maybe I’m just sated, but I’m wondering why we ever fought this.”
“It’s nearly twenty-three meters,” she said, fitting herself back onto him. “And we’re tired and sated because of fabulous sex. We haven’t talked about the soulmate part.”
“Twenty-three meters is giant,” he responded, “and you’re right. We haven’t talked about the soulmate part. Do you want to?”
Her fingers rubbed his trapezius, but this time he fought the groan. There were in serious territory now. Then again, they’d already gone there during the sex. Only it had felt so good, the falling and surrendering, he hadn’t known how serious it was until afterward, when they’d lain beside each other and gazed into each other’s eyes. Hers had been filled with light and a new softness had been on her face. She’d looked young and fresh and more beautiful than any woman he’d ever met. She might have grabbed his heart and held it, then and there.
“We’ll need some guidelines, Ace.”
“Declan,” he corrected.
“Declan.” She found a line of bone and muscle, easing her fingers into it in a way that had his eyes closing. “We clearly are going to want to keep having sex.”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t want us to be with other people.”
He pushed up onto his hands and rolled her off him so he could face her. “I don’t want anyone else,mo chroí.”
A rare flash of vulnerability streaked across her face, making her look years younger. He understood. They’d both been betrayed that way, in the most intimate way a person could be.
“Good. I’d like to go out sometimes, although I know you’re training hard. Also, I like the Gaelic.”
He would have to remember that. “My first fight has been moved up,” he said, taking her hand, “but we’ll find time for each other. In the bedroom and out of it.”
She nodded crisply, and it struck him how practical she was trying to be. Calling him Ace fit the part, he supposed. He drew her closer and caressed her cheek. “Let’s talk about Sorcha. I plan on making up my own mind about the way things are between us. I won’t be telling anyone I fell for you because a ghost told me to.”
“God, neither will I!” she said with a snort, putting an open hand on his chest, a touch he was starting to recognize as a natural one for her—and one he already craved. “She’s right about our connection being unusual, but you do realize what she means when she says we’re soulmates, right?”
