Bree

“Good morning.” Owen’s voice rasps in my ear, his hard body pressed against my back, sending a tremor straight to my core.

My limbs are sluggish when I roll over in bed and see him leaning on an elbow, grinning down at me. Morning light filters through the floor to ceiling windows that look out on the rolling hills and dark lough below.

The sun’s rays slant across his features, making the gray of his eyes seem to swirl like silver lava.

Intense.

Mesmerizing.

Mine.

I groan inwardly at the thought, knowing how far from the truth it is.

“What are you doing?” I mumble, closing my eyes against the smirk he gives me.

“Watching ye sleep.”

I cover my face with the sheet. “That’s weird. And I need a shower. Or, to at least brush my teeth.”

He chuckles, pulling the blanket down.

“Ye’re beautiful.” He shifts, and rolls on top of me, spreading my thighs with his knee and pressing his heavy erection against my stomach. “What do ye want to do today?”

A murmur of pleasure vibrates in my throat, and I run my fingers through his hair. “Happy to stay right here.”

He nuzzles my neck, inhaling deeply. “Sounds like a good plan. I do have a few people I need to meet with later today. Ye can come with me, if ye want.”

“I wouldn’t mind some time to walk around. See my old house.”

He winces. “They tore it down a few years ago. Black mold.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure why I’m surprised. The place was barely a shack. I spent more time at Agnus’ house than my own. But it just reminds me of how much things have changed.

I run my fingers across the tattoos on his arm, some of the words written in Gaelic along his bicep. “What does this mean?”

He glances down at the ink, and his lips pull up. “Under the shelter of each other, people survive.”

I let the words sink in, but they’re so foreign to me, the whole concept of family and friends you can count on.

“How long are we staying here?” I ask, never wanting to leave, knowing going back to Dublin means facing reality.

I can’t stay here.

“We need to be back in Dublin by Saturday for the wedding.” He kisses me once, then rolls out of bed, walking across the room without even a hint of modesty, then looks over his shoulder with a grin. “Ye coming?”

“Where?”

He smirks from the bathroom doorway. “Ye said ye needed a shower. And I’m looking forward to getting ye wet…” He winks. “Again.”

I chuckle, despite the ache that’s formed in my chest.

Just sex, I remind myself as I follow him in, stepping underneath the stream of warm water.

But separating my heart from the pleasure isn’t just difficult. It’s damn near impossible.

* * *

A breeze rustles through the trees around me as I walk down the path towards the old oak down by the lough. After spending the entire morning ravaging my body in the shower, the bed, and even the kitchen, Owen finally left a couple hours ago to take care of his errands.

I’m happy for the few minutes alone.

Time to process everything that’s happened.

I pull myself up to the first heavy branch of the oak, straddling it before getting my balance, and continuing to climb up further, to my branch. No one ever dared climb this high when we were younger, so I claimed it.

Marked my name on trunk.

I smile when I find the letters I’d cut deep into the bark.

BEATRICE.

My fingers trace the indented wood, tears pricking the backs of my eyes for the child I once was. The girl who was fearless. Who dreamed big. And believed in fairytales and happy ever afters.

I shift so that my back is against the trunk, glancing out across the dark green waters of the lough.

“He’s going to break your heart,” I mumble to myself.

But what if he doesn’t?

What if he wants more?

I close my eyes, wanting to believe that it’s possible. Because one thing is certain – I want to come home.

My cell rings in my back pocket.

An unknown number pops up. Normally, I wouldn’t answer it, especially considering the roaming costs here, but for some reason I do. And I regret it the second I hear the voice on the other end.

“Miss Walsh?”

Hang up.

“This is Ted Davidson. I’m an attorney with Carson and Kemp.”

My stomach drops, fear sitting heavy like a boulder in my gut.

“I’m calling in regard to Frank-”

I end the call, my fingers trembling, and close my eyes, placing my phone against my forehead and cursing.

It’s the same lawyer who sent me a letter a few months back. All these years, I managed to keep my number blocked, my address unknown. But he’s found me – Frank.

I have no idea what Frank’s motives are for calling a lawyer, but I know they can’t be good.

Is it even possible for him to charge me now, after all this time? If the police report he filed is still open, then probably. And what if they charge me as an adult? I was still a minor when I took the car, but that doesn’t always matter.

God. I’m screwed.

Owen’s right. I am trouble.

Am I really willing to bring that trouble here? To Emer and Agnus. To the band. To Owen.

“Jeezus, Bree.” Owen’s voice bellows below me. “What the hell are ye doing up there?”

Nerves already frayed, I startle, and my phone falls from my grasp.

Shit.

I reach for the nearest branch, but I miss it by a hair, and slip.

Bark bites into my skin as I flail my arms, trying to regain balance, which I finally do three branches below where I started.

Owen curses wildly, fear mixed with anger vibrating in his words.

I wince, more from the lecture I know I’m going to get than from the pain.

Fingers dig into my arms, steadying me. “I told ye-”

“You scared me.” I mutter accusingly, as I let him help me down the last branch.

“Ye’re bleeding.” His nostrils flare and he shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” I wince, glancing down at the scrapes on my arms and legs. “If you hadn’t crept up on me like that...”

“Ye shouldn’t have been up in the damn tree.”

“I’ve never fallen before. You startled me.”

His jaw twitches, his hands roaming across my skin as he takes in the damage. “So, it’s my fault?”

Yes. Because only when I’m around you do I lose my balance.

“No.”

He straightens and drags his fingers through his hair. “Come on. Let’s get those cleaned up.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Ye say that a lot, when ye clearly aren’t.” He picks up my phone and hands it to me, a reminder of why I was so frazzled in the first place.

He’d asked me if Frank was going to be trouble. Now, I know with certainty that he will be.

Let Owen help you, my brain demands. But my heart warns me not to get him involved. For his sake. For Emer and Agnus. I don’t want to bring them into this mess.

Don’t want them to know how much of a mess I really am.

If I tell Owen, I know he’ll pull his whole white-knight bit. Because that’s what he does. Who he is. And I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me.

Except that this time, I really do.

We walk to the house, his disapproving silence louder than if he were screaming at me.

“Sit,” he orders when we’re in the kitchen.

I don’t have the strength to argue, so I pull out a stool and wait for him to return with a washcloth and antiseptic spray.

Lips pulled tight, he cleans the small scrapes with a gentle patience I wouldn’t have thought him possible of.

He’d be a good father.

I groan as the thought pops into my head.

“Does that hurt?” His brows draw down severely, concern etched tight on his handsome features.

“No.” I place a hand on his cheek, soaking him in. The only thing that hurts is my heart when I think about leaving.

His palm rests on top of mine, then he takes my hand and brushes his lips across my inner wrist. “Promise me ye won’t climb that damn tree again. That ye won’t put yerself at risk.”

I can’t help the pull that curves my lips. “You’re worried about me.”

“Of course, I’m worried about ye.” He places his hands on the island behind me and leans close, his lips an inch from mine. “Never met anyone more prone to trouble.”

I grip his hips pulling him between my legs. “I like the trouble we got into last night.” I snake my hands under his shirt, pressing my palms against his flexed abs. “And the trouble we got into this morning.”

His eyes flash, the possessive concern from a moment ago replaced by primal hunger.

My heart thuds, my skin tingling as a callused hand cups the side of my cheek.

“I like ye here.”

“Like being here,” I murmur, wrapping my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck, never wanting to let go.

He captures my mouth in a blinding assault. Demanding and desperate, and slightly out of control. A groan rumbles deep in his throat, and he’s lifting me, carrying me down the hall towards the bedroom, but we don’t get far, before my back is pressed against the wall, his fingers threading with mine and lifting my arms above my head.

I arch against him, tugging at his shirt, needing to remove all barriers between us.

Large hands snake under my shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. He unhooks my bra, sliding it off, then leans back to take me in.

My breasts tingle under his observation, nipples hardening, aching.

I’ve never felt so beautiful in my entire life as I do beneath his hungry gaze.

Intensity billows between us, and he fists his hands in my hair, his gray eyes fastened on me. “I see ye, Bree. I see all of ye. Don’t hide from me.”

I whimper, his words filling a place inside me I didn’t even know was empty.

He pulls out a condom from his pocket, something he seems to always have on hand, and tears it open with his teeth, as I fight against the material of his jeans, pulling them down over his hips so that his erection springs free.

I suck in a breath, my fingers gliding over the silky skin, then sink to my knees in front of him.

“Bree-” he growls out my name, his voice a rasp, fingers fisting in my hair as I swirl my tongue over the swollen head of his cock. “Jeezus.”

I take as much of his length into my mouth as I can, feeling his muscles tremble. His eyes are steel, watching me with the dizzying lust that burns through me like a wildfire out of control.

“Come here,” he demands, lifting me. He rolls the condom over his cock, then grips my ass, hoisting me up.

I tremble, bracing myself for the pleasure as he rocks into me.

For a moment, he goes still, his forehead pressed to mine.

The connection between us is more than just sex. I can feel it. His emotions spin and swirl, mixing with my own.

I suck in a dizzying breath. Our mouths, bodies, and hearts collide. My pulse beats wild and erratic.

Wanting.

Needing.

This.

Us.

Forever.

Stupid girl, my brain reprimands. But I don’t care. Not right now, when my body and soul are flying, soaring through a haze of euphoria.

He devours me.

Consumes me.

Fills me.

“My God, Bree. Ye undo me,” he groans against my lips as he thrusts inside me, burying himself to the hilt.

A choked sob of pleasure releases from the deepest part of my soul, and I come undone.

His body shakes with his own release as we sink to the floor.

Spent.

Shattered.

And I know that whatever happens next, I’ll never be the same again.