Bree

“Home?” I glare at Owen, my chest squeezing in confusion. “If you bought me a plane ticket back to the States-”

“And they say I have trust issues.” His voice is like gravel, scraping across my skin, reminding me that even when I’m angry at him, I’m not immune to the dark, brooding sexuality he emits.

“You do.” I cross my arms, readying myself for a fight. If he thinks I’m stubborn now, wait till I actually dig my heels in. Because I won’t have him, or anyone, telling me I have to leave.

He smirks at me, glancing away from the road briefly, and says, “I’m taking ye to my house.”

“Your house?” I frown at him.

“I built a place down by the lough we used to swim at. Thought ye’d like to spend a few days where ye grew up.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I try to figure out his game, but all I can focus on is the way his black t-shirt clings to his chest, and grips his biceps that flex under my gaze. He drags his fingers through his dark hair, pushing the pieces off his forehead, eyeing me sideways, waiting for my reaction.

“Did Emer put you up to this?”

“No,” he says roughly, not expanding on his motives.

“I can’t.” My hands go all shaky, fingers tingling, and all of a sudden, I feel like a jittery mess.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my bags.”

“They’re in the back.”

My mouth drops open. “You brought my luggage?”

He gives one hard nod.

My heart races, my gaze skidding over his face, trying to find his intent. If it was just sex, he could have taken me back to the hotel. So, why his place?

“You confuse me, you know that?”

He chuckles. “Trust me, sweetheart. Ye’re not the only one who feels that way.”

I slump back in the seat, wondering what the hell he’s planning. “Does Emer know?”

He tenses slightly, but nods. “Since we have a couple hours to pass, why don’t we play a game?”

“I hate games.”

He chuckles. “Ye were always good at them, when ye were little.”

“Because I cheated.”

He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. “I knew ye did. Used to drive Cillian insane.”

“Which is why I did it.”

He smirks at me.

“All right. What kind of game?” I ask, already knowing I’m not going to like it.

“Ye ask me a question. If I answer honestly, I get to ask ye one.”

Yeah, definitely not going to like this game.

“Fine. But I go first.”

He nods.

“Are you still in love with Emer?” I don’t know why I ask, maybe as a way to put a shield between us. Maybe because it’s still my biggest fear.

He coughs and looks over at me, his expression severe. “No.”

I don’t know if I believe him.

“But you were?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Were you?” I push.

“Maybe.” His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, and he sighs. “Not sure I’ve ever been in love the way ye’re meaning. Emer and the guys; they’re my family. It’s a different kind of love. Took me a while to realize that.”

I’m still not convinced he’s telling the whole truth. I read the note he wrote her. The words that spilled from his heart.

Silence stretches between us for a long moment, and I think he thankfully forgot about his game.

Until he asks, “Are ye running from someone?”

I go still, my fingers curling into tiny fists beside me. Why did he keep pressing?

“No,” I mumble, with a tug of dread, knowing he won’t let it go.

“The truth.”

“That is the truth,” I lie.

He grunts. “Then why’d ye come back to Ireland after all this time?”

“Finally had enough money for a plane ticket.” Partial truth.

“If ye’d asked any one of us, we would have bought ye one. At any time.”

“It’s been ten years since I talked to anyone. I didn’t know if you’d even remember me. Which you didn’t.”

He takes his eyes off the road for a brief second, his gaze narrowing on me. “In my defense, ye were twelve the last time I saw ye.”

“I know.” I rub my palms on my jeans, which are finally starting to dry. “I wrote to you.”

One eyebrow rises. “When?”

“Almost every day for a year.”

“I never got a letter from ye.”

“Yeah. I figured that after I spoke with Emer. I’m pretty sure Frank….” I inhale a deep breath and look out the window, clamping my lips shut, hating how he was able to coax from me the secrets I’d tried so hard to bury.

“Frank’s the man yer mom married?”

I nod, wishing I hadn’t mentioned the asshole’s name, because I feel the well burst inside my chest, the need to get out all the toxins I’d been holding in for so long.

“She left him when I was fifteen. Met some truck driver from Fort Lauderdale. Dave, or Dan, I can’t remember his name. It didn’t last long. I got a call from her a year later saying she’d found her soulmate, that she was setting up a house in Colorado for us. The guy was some top cheese CEO.”

“She left ye?” I hear the incredulity in his voice, mixed with a hint of anger.

I shrug, like it wasn’t the thing that broke me most. “There was always some new guy. The one who would finally make her happy.” I close my eyes, suddenly feeling drained, both emotionally and physically. “Never did see Colorado.”

I didn’t hear about the car accident until her body had been cold in the ground for weeks. I’d managed to get away from Frank by then, even though he’d tried desperately to keep me under his thumb as a way to still have some control over my mother.

Not that it worked. She didn’t care enough about me to come back. Not for threats. Not for the surgeries I had to repair the damage to my hand. She chose love over her daughter every time.

“Bree.” Owen’s voice filters through the haze of dreams and memories. “We’re here.”

I blink, shifting in my seat and stretching the stiff muscles in my neck. “I fell asleep.”

“I know.” His expression is soft, and he gives me a crooked smile. “Ye were snoring.”

“Was I?” Embarrassment burns my cheeks.

He chuckles and opens his door. “Come on.”

Dense trees line the property, hiding the one floor, dark gray stucco ranch from the road and any neighboring houses.

“Do ye know where ye are?” he asks, watching me as I get out of the car.

I shake my head.

“This is the old Fraser property.”

“Really?” I glance around, recognizing nothing. But then, even an Irishman could get lost in these parts, where every hill and field looks the same.

He pulls my bags from the back and carries them towards the door, then punches in a series of numbers in the alarm pad.

Ivory-colored granite, dark maple wood, floor-to-ceiling windows. The place looks like it belongs in Malibu, and not in the middle of Ireland.

“Wow.”

“Ye approve?” His lips are dangerously close to my ear, and a delicious shiver moves down my back.

“It definitely has rock star written all over it.” Luxury. Power. Wealth. It reeks of all those things.

“Not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

I shrug. “It suits you.”

He grunts, turning on more lights, as well as the gas fireplace in the center of the large living room.

“Come here,” he motions me towards the sliding doors at the back of the house that lead to a wraparound balcony.

My breath gets trapped in my throat when I step out. The house backs onto the lough that we used to swim in as kids, and the old oak tree, my tree, is only a few yards away.

“This is why I built it here.” He leans with his forearms on the balcony, looking out. “I always loved this view.”

“Me too.”

We stand in silence for a few minutes. His body is close to mine, but not touching.

“The last time I saw you, I was sitting in that tree.”

He chuckles. “Ye used to scare the bejeezus out of me, with all yer climbing.”

“Never fell once.”

“Ye always were braver than all of us.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” Gray eyes study me. See me. “I think ye still are.”

I glance away from his searching gaze, feeling like he’s peering straight into my soul.

“I hated that my mom made me move away,” I say, looking back at the old oak. “But mostly, I hated leaving you. I know it was just a silly crush, but…”

He captures my wrist, then roughs the pad of his thumb across the tattoo there.

“I drew this on yer wrist that day.”

I swallow hard and nod, his words placating some part of me. Even though the moment—the gesture—hadn’t meant the same to him, he still remembered.

“I believed you.” Butterflies take off in a mad frenzy as he brings my wrist to his mouth and brushes his lips across the faint lines. I let out a shuddering breath. “Everything you said. About family and roots. About music connecting me to my home.”

“I don’t know what happened to ye.” He places a palm on my cheek. “What demons ye’re hiding. But ye still belong here, Bree.”

His head dips closer, his mouth parting, breath warm and tasting like the peppermint gum he’d been chewing earlier.

“Emer asked me to stay,” I say, gauging his reaction.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“You do?”

“I do.” His smile falters and his lips thin, his brows pulling down. “But not because of me. Because ye need yer family.”

My chest deflates. “Right.”

I start to move away, but one solid arm wraps around my waist, pulling me tight against his body. “I’m not saying I don’t want to see where this goes.”

“We both know exactly how it’ll go.” I place my palms on his chest, craving his touch, but knowing just how dangerous it’ll be, especially if I decide to stay here. “We’ll have sex.”

“Mind-blowing sex,” he adds, one side of his lips twitching up.

“We’ll sleep together a few times, until you get bored, or freak out because you’re feeling something for me-”

“Ye’ve got this all figured out.”

I nod. “Then, we’ll break it off and we’ll be all kinds of awkward with each other. It’ll put a strain on your relationship with Emer, because she’ll take my side.”

He chuckles, “Ye think so?”

“Girls always take each other’s sides.”

His hands roam down my back, locking my body against his. “So, I guess we should just stay friends?”

“I thought we weren’t friends.” Ripples of need surge through me. Damn him.

“If we’re not friends, and we’re not sleeping together, then what are we?” He murmurs against my ear, his callused fingers finding the hem of my shirt and slipping beneath, warm against my cool skin.

“A dream that I never want to wake up from,” I sigh, melting into him, my body ignoring the warning bells telling me I need to step away before he does more than steal my heart, before he shatters it.

“Then, don’t wake up,” he growls against my neck as his teeth rake across the sensitive flesh.

A disconcerted thrill speeds through me.

“I…I thought I could have just sex with you. But…”

He tenses slightly, his body rigid. His palms cup my jaw, as gray eyes study me, nostrils flaring, lips pursed.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I thought it would just be sex,” he rasps out.

Unsteady, my heart hammers wildly, my pulse frantic, not knowing what that means, or if it even means anything.

Gray eyes turn to pitch as he watches me, something primal in his gaze, and I shake beneath the gravity of it, sure that after tonight, I’ll never be the same.

“Okay,” I whisper, knowing with that one word I’m accepting everything he has to give, even if his everything isn’t enough.

A blaze of something feral strains his features, and he gives a hard nod, then presses his lips against my forehead.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he says, pulling away.

“You’re leaving?”

“I haven’t been here for a few months. I’ve got a cellar full of wine and whisky, but that’s about it. Need to get some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I pout.

He smirks and kisses me hard, then pulls away. “Ye will be when I’m done with ye.”