Delaney

Cillian’s hard gaze hasn’t left me, and even from across the bar, I can see the promise in his eyes.

A shiver of anticipation races down my spine. Am I really going to sleep with him? I’ve never done anything so wanton in my life. But God, I want to.

“I love Ireland.” My words are slurred, but I don’t care. For the first time in months, I’m actually enjoying myself. Plus, if I’m really going to do the things I’m thinking of doing, I’m going to need a couple more drinks to release the nerves knotting in my stomach.

“How long are ye staying?” Emer asks, clinking her shot glass against mine.

I shrug, because I really have no idea.

All I can think about is the kiss.

Cillian leans against the bar, watching me. Aiden is with him, and whatever he’s saying to him, has Cillian scowling.

“How long have you known him?” I ask.

Emer follows my gaze. “Cillian? All my life. That’s my brother there with him. Shane.” She nods at the dark-haired man that’s with Cillian and Aiden. Emer’s tone shifts, growing more heavy. “We all grew up together. But they’ve had–”

The band starts playing a new tune, some sort of Irish folksong, and the room erupts in drunken voices.

An older man wraps a thick arm around Emer’s waist and starts singing to her in a thick Irish brogue. She laughs and joins him.

I grin, wishing I knew the lyrics. There’s a joy here that’s infectious. I know little about Irish history, but I know they’ve had their fair share of suffering, both as a country and as a people. But it’s clear it never broke their spirit.

When I glance over at Cillian, he’s in a heated conversation with his two friends. For the first time all night, his gaze isn’t on me.

I slide off my stool, but the second my feet hit the floor the room starts to spin, and beads of sweat break out above my upper lip. It’s hot in here, and I’m starting to regret that last shot of whiskey.

“I’ll be right back,” I yell over the music to Emer. “I need to get some fresh air.”

She gives me a small nod, and continues to belt out the old Irish folksong.

I make my way to the front of the pub, trying my best to walk in a straight line. My stomach rolls, and I barely make it outside before I empty its contents into one of the bushes.

I groan and place my forehead on the cool stone of the building.

“Ye okay there?” A deep voice rumbles behind me.

Running my tongue over my teeth, I close my eyes and pray that the world will stop spinning.

“Fine,” I slur, stumbling when I push away from the wall.

“Careful.” Large arms wrap around me, saving me from doing a nosedive into the bushes.

When I glance up, two faces become one, and I’m struck by the familiarity of the eyes that stare back at me, even though I’m sure I’ve never seen the man before.

Music blares out as the pub door opens.

The man’s eyes jerk in that direction.

I follow his gaze, wincing when I see Cillian standing there, his face red and eyes filled with rage.

“Take yer fucking hands off her.”

The stranger glances down, then releases me so quickly I almost lose my balance.

Cillian moves so fast I’m not sure the other man even has time to react before his head is snapping back with the force of Cillian’s fist.

Someone screams, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s me. “Stop!”

“Fucking bastard!” Cillian yells, taking another shot, but this time the man ducks, and his own fist hits Cillian with an uppercut to his jaw.

The other man gets in a few more good shots, but so does Cillian, and I’m pretty sure they’re going to kill each other.

People pile out of the pub when someone notices the brawl.

It takes four men, including Aiden and Shane, to pull them apart.

“Get off me,” Cillian yells, shrugging Aiden and Shane away.

“Just cool the fuck down,” Aiden says, standing between the men, one hand on Cillian’s chest.

The other man spits blood, then wipes his mouth with his forearm, glaring at Cillian. “Ye really are a volatile bastard, aren’t ye, little brother?”

“I have no brother,” Cillian lashes out, his words full of contempt.

The man must be Owen. I see the resemblance now. Only he’s a bit taller, and his eyes are more gray than blue.

“Get out of here,” Aiden says, turning to Cillian. “Before ye say or do something else ye’ll regret.

Cillian sucks back his bloody lip, then spits. “Loyal to the end.”

Aiden opens his mouth, then shuts it, shaking his head. “Go home.”

“Fuck off. All of you.” Cillian turns and glares at me. “Are ye coming? Or are ye going to stay here with these bastards?”

I suck in a shaky breath. The look in his eyes says he expects me to betray him as well. I give a small nod and follow him when he turns and starts walking to his car.

Silence stretches between us on the ride home.

My head is still swimming from the whiskey, stomach churning, and I have to clench my back teeth every time we go over a bump on the road.

I have no idea what just happened, or why Cillian reacted the way he did. But it’s obvious that he and his brother had a serious falling out. It must be the reason for the tension between him and the other men as well.

When we pull up to his house, Cillian gets out of the car and slams the door behind him, still not making eye contact with me.

Inside, he stomps to the kitchen, pulling out a bag of frozen carrots, then grabs the bottle of whiskey. He takes a swig and hisses as the liquid hits his busted lips.

He leans against the counter and places the carrots against his jaw, the bottle dangling from his other hand. His blue eyes are stormy, and yet almost vulnerable. Almost. He has too many walls up to ever let anyone close enough to be truly vulnerable.

I know I should leave him alone. But something forces me to stay.

“So, that was your brother?” I regret the words the second I say them.

He glares at me.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Ye think I bleedin’ care if it did?”

“Yeah, I do.” I cross my arms and glare back.

“Ye’re wrong.” He takes another deep swallow from the bottle.

I sigh, removing the distance between us, and take the whiskey from his hand.

“Am I?” I put the bottle to my mouth and tilt it back. I don’t need anything more to drink, but after emptying the contents of my stomach, then witnessing an all-out brawl, I’m feeling way too sober for what I’m about to do.

“Ye’re drunk.”

“A little.” I put the bottle on the counter, my breast brushing against his arm when I lean across him.

He watches me, brows drawn down, a scowl pulling at his lips.

I place my palms on his stomach, feeling his abs tense under my touch. He lets out a low growl, but doesn’t move away.

“Ye’re lookin’ for trouble, aren’t ye?”

“I am.”

He puts the bag of carrots down, then captures my wrists when I start to slide them up his chest.

“Delaney. Ye’re a nice girl–”

“Right.” I start to pull away, feeling the rejection in his words, but he doesn’t release me.

He’s watching me, blatant hunger in his gaze. There’s no attempt to hide the lust that burns there. So why is he fighting it?

“I just want to make sure ye know what ye’re doing.”

I blink up at him. “I have no clue. But I know I want this.”

“Sex,” he says roughly, moving closer. “That’s what ye want? ‘Cause that’s all it can be.”

I nod. My stomach dips like I’m falling, and my heart thumps radically in my chest.

Please, my body begs.

He exhales heavily, and I can’t read what he’s thinking. I half expect him to push me away. Instead, he takes my hand and starts to lead me down the hall towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I frown when he turns the shower on.

“We both could use a shower.” He winks, and I follow his gaze down, wincing when I see the splatter of vomit on my shirt.

“Oh my God.”

He chuckles. “I’d have been surprised if ye hadn’t been sick, the way ye were drinking. How are ye feeling now?”

“Better.” Tipsy, but sober enough to know what I want.

“Good.” A small grin plays on his lips. “Now come here and let me undress ye.”

A thousand butterflies take flight in my stomach as he reaches for me. How am I supposed to keep my sanity when he strips my control with just a touch?

His fingers find the hem of my shirt. “Lift your arms.”

I obey as he pulls the material over my head, then tosses it to the floor.

Warmth spreads through my body, not only from his touch, but from the heat in his eyes.

He reaches behind his back and pulls off his own shirt.

My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t help but reach out and touch the dark patterns that mark his arms and chest. “You’re perfect.”

He chuckles, tilting my chin up with his thumb. “I think ye’re still drunk.”

“What do they mean?” I trace the patterns on his arms.

“Celtic symbols.” He places my hand over the ink on his chest. “This one means strength.”

“It’s beautiful.” I run my fingers down his chest, over his abs, the sensation sending little electric-like shocks zipping through my fingertips and straight to my core. When I reach his belt, a small tremor of anticipation races through me.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he says. One eyebrow quirks up and he grins, then reaches past me and hands me my toothbrush. “But ye need this.”

He laughs when I take it from him, and I give him a little shove as I move to the sink. Standing behind me, he trails his knuckles across my shoulder and leans down, pressing his lips to the back of my neck while I brush my teeth.

I shiver as his hands continue to roam across my back, over my hips. When I rinse my mouth, he spins me around and kisses me.

“Much better.” He nips at my bottom lip, chuckling, his hands never leaving my body.

There’s no rushing, which I’m grateful for. As much as I want this, want him, I’ve never done anything like this before.

Sure, I’ve had sex, but only with Matt, and only after we’d been dating for almost a year. And even then, it had never been anything like this.

I loosen Cillian’s belt and lick my lips as I continue to unbutton his jeans. My fingers are shaking slightly. He must notice, because he takes my hands and brings them to his lips, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Ye all right?” His voice is thick and rough, and my core clenches in anticipation as the sound slips across my skin.

I’ve never been this nervous. Not even the first time.

But desire outweighs my fears.

I nod. Every cell in my body is screaming for his touch.

Slowly, he removes my pants, sliding them down my thighs, the callused tips of his fingers rough against my skin.

I watch him as his hands go to the waistband of his jeans. His long fingers unbutton the top metal button, exposing his dark boxer briefs. Curling his fingers in the material, he peels the jeans and briefs down over his thighs and his enormous erection springs free.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let my gaze linger on the thick length of his erection. Heavy veins strain against satiny flesh, and a small drop of pre-cum glistens at the tip of the bulging head.

Even his cock is gorgeous.

He takes my hand, his other palm resting on my waist, as he guides me into the shower.

Warm water sprays over us, but even with the heat, I can’t help but shiver when he reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckles across the swell of my breast.

A nervous energy races through me.

It’s crazy and wild, and so like nothing I’ve ever done before.

“Ye’re so fucking beautiful, Delaney.” His deep brogue rolls across my flesh, and with the combination of his touch, I can feel the liquid heat between my legs.

I breathe in deeply, trembling as he moves closer. My back is pressing against the cool tile, and the length of his erection pressing into my belly. My core clenches in anticipation.

“Cillian.” I love the sound of his name on my lips.

My head falls back as his teeth rake across my shoulder. His hands roam over my back, cupping my ass, then trail across my hips and stomach, up to my breasts, playing and teasing the nipples.

The sensation is almost too much, but I want more. I want all of him.

His hands slide to my ass again, lifting me.

I wrap my legs around his narrow waist, and I feel the head of his cock against my pussy. I moan against his lips, squirming against him, needing to feel the full length of him inside me.

His lips are on my shoulder, my collarbone, my neck, his tongue stroking the sensitive skin as his hand moves between us and his fingers find my clit.

A thin cry of pleasure escapes my throat.

So good.

Every erogenous zone in my body vibrates with pleasure.

“My God, Delaney.” His voice is a rough growl against my lips as he kisses me again, harder, more demanding.

He strokes my clit and I fight to breathe through the incredible sensations. A tsunami of emotions and erotic pleasure roll through me.

His hand braces against the wall, while his other tightens on my hip. He places his forehead against mine and breathes out harshly.

“I need to get ye into bed before I fuck ye right here.”

I moan, wrapping my arms around his neck as he turns off the water and carries me, my legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his neck, to the bedroom.

A shiver races through me as my back hits the cool mattress.

“Are ye cold?” He crawls over me, spreading my thighs with his knee, mouth and hands kissing, touching, warming every part of me from the inside out.

“No.” The word comes out as a whimper as his tongue flicks out over my nipple, circling it, before drawing it into the heat of his mouth.

I barely know the man, and yet my body is responding to him in ways I’ve never experienced. In my head, I know it’s just lust that connects us. But it’s more intense than any emotion I’ve ever felt.

Just sex, I remind myself.

Maybe it’s good I’ll be leaving soon. Because I know how easy it’ll be to confuse it for something else. Something neither of us are able to handle.