Page 85 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“I have you back to laughing,mo chroí,” he said softly, sliding his hand over the round skin of her bottom. “I plan to continue it. Ah, look, I wonder if I need a magnifying glass for this particular freckle.”

“Jamie Fitzgerald,” she called with another laugh as he laid a kiss on her flesh. “Don’t you dare zoom in on my butt.”

His deep rumble had her grinning. “But it’s such a fine arse, and imagine it peppered with shamrock-shaped freckles. Everyone in the Brazen Donkey will be delighted in the telling.”

She flipped onto her back, pretending to study him suspiciously. “You don’t want to be going there, boyo,” she said in her best imitation of an Irish accent.

His mouth lifted before he smothered the smile. “What’s this boyo thing?”

“Don’t you Irish say that? I’ve heard it in all the movies.”

“I’ve never heard it.” He lay down beside her and pulled her flush against him. “Which one?”

Her mind took a moment longer to give her an answer since she was preoccupied with the way his body was rising to her own. “Ah…The Untouchables, I think. With the great and dreamy Sean Connery.”

“But that was set in the 1930s or something, right? Eons ago. It is a good movie, though. Up until Sean Connery dies.”

She traced the ridge of muscles in his forearm. “I know. I cried at that part.”

He waggled his brows as he rose over her. “How about you let me help you cry in an altogether different way?”

She was grinning as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kisses were magic, giving heated attention to her bottom lip before sucking on the top one with the kind of intensity that had her wanting to move things along. But when she tried to take him in hand, he captured her wrists and gently brought them over her head.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his cobalt eyes on hers. “I have other plans for you.”

And plans he had aplenty, kissing his way down her neck slowly before supping at her breasts. She bowed back under the pressure of his mouth and groaned, luxuriating in the sensation. As he continued, kissing her belly and then the valley between her thighs, she squeezed her eyes closed and felt her desire skyrocket.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

His mouth kept up a steady campaign of kisses, licks, and little nips. He continued to bring her higher and still higher until she fisted her hands in his hair finally to hold him in place and surrender to the greatest desire she’d ever known. That she could find it on this day was a boon but not a source of wonder. It had been a day of extremes, outside and inside, and her body was ready for its due.

When he put on a condom and slipped inside her, she moaned brokenly, needing more, wanting more. “Come into me harder, Jamie. I need you.”

He adjusted her hips and thrust deep, making her cry out.

“All right,mo chroí?” he ground out.

She met his eyes, needing to see him, wanting him to understand. “God, yes. More, Jamie. God! Give me more.”

Her plea seemed to unlock some part of him because he took her swiftly, deeply. She had no time to catch her breath. She needed to ride this wave and crash where she would. Locking her ankles around his waist, she brought him still deeper inside her and felt her body scream for mercy. She broke in a sea of pulses wrenched from her very soul. He followed her with a loud cry, as though torn from him.

She lay there panting, his body slick on her as he lowered himself to his elbows, breathing hard near her ear.

“Jesus, Sophie,” he rasped out. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

Laughter bubbled up as her body continued to pulse. “Thank God I’m not a Renaissance painter, or I’d be imagining painting the nativity scene right about now.”

He laughed until he wheezed. “It’s probably the biggest form of sacrilege, my saying that, but you’re twisting my funny bone something fierce.”

She was laughing too, the hilarity contagious. “I think people laugh like this when they reach their limit.”

“Then we should reach our limit more often,mo chroí, because that was otherworldly.”

Caressing his sweat-slicked back, she had to smile. “I have to agree. It’s been really good between us—not that I’m a huge expert in this department—but that was a whole new level. Kind of like my art.”

He lifted his head, his mop of brown curls a sexy tangled mess around his strong face. “I’m sure we can achieve more new levels if we put our mind to it. In the bedroom, or the kitchen or the parlor, for that matter. With the gate and wall, I’d feel more comfortable about loving you in the parlor—my own version of being positive about changes. It’s a nice benefit that no one can pop by for a chat and spot us through the window.”

“God help us! That would be mortifying. Oh, Jamie, I love you. For making me laugh. For making me come. And for being by my side when I really need support.”

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