Page 240 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

She leaves her hand on my chest and stares up at me.

“Are you nervous, darlin’?”

“Is it stupid that I am?” She bites her bottom lip, and I nearly give in and push her back against the wall. It would be so easy just to let her anchor her legs around my hips and sink into her.

“It’s not stupid. It shows that you care. That it means a lot. Will you dance with me, Jaine?”

“There’s no music.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. She smiles when the song comes on.

“Ed Sheeran.”

“It is. It’s calledThinking Out Loud.” I toss the phone on the sectional. “Put your arms around my neck, darlin’.”

CHAPTEREIGHTY-ONE

JAINE

Padraig’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

I do as he asks,conscious that my borrowed t-shirt is now skimming my ass. In the end, I decided not to wear the shorts but only because I couldn’t get them to stay up.

He snakes his arms around my waist as he pulls me tight against him, and then we sway together. Pressing my nose against his neck, I inhale the scent of his cologne, my heart thudding in my chest, making me feel breathless.

I gasp when his hips grind slowly against mine, my gaze raising to connect with his as my hands tangle in the back of his hair.

“Do you like the song choice, Jaine?” I can’t reply. His hot breath against my ear is making me feel too dizzy.

My fingers move to grip his shoulders and keep me steady. He gives a low growl of approval as he circles his hips against mine again, his hands dropping down to my ass to pull me tighter against him. I groan when I feel his erection press against me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so aroused with so little contact.

His mouth drops to my neck, his tongue sliding over my skin. My nails dig into his flesh when he bites down, my own hips now pressing against his.

Asking. Needing. Begging.

His hand moves to my already pebbled nipple, the touch making me instinctively part my legs so he can push his thigh between them.

He looks down at me, his blue eyes dark with hunger. “You decided not to wear the shorts, then?” I shake my head and lick my dry lips.

His eyes never leave mine as his hand skims the bottom of the t-shirt. Lifting the hem, he runs his fingers through my slickness. The groan that escapes me sounds feral. I can’t help it. I want his fingers inside me, but he deliberately doesn’t let them sink in. He studies my reactions intently.

Every move. Expression. Breath. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. I feel exposed for some reason. Like I’m suddenly transparent.

There’s no hiding from me. You know that.

He’s right. His soul has known mine since the beginning of time.

“Irish.” I sound needy.

“I’d like to kiss you, darlin’, if that’s okay.” Ice-blue eyes bore into mine.

I nod, and he slowly tilts my chin. His mouth then covers mine, and his tongue thrusts deep. I part my lips to welcome the taste of his unique flavor as my hands yank on his hair. I groan, and he responds by kissing me harder until all I can taste is intensity and desire.

Until all I can taste is him.

I drag my nails down his torso, and he emits a low growl of approval, his abs clenching beneath my fingertips. The sound is like an aphrodisiac.

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