Chapter 8

Using his one free hand, Rory fished her keys out of his pocket and expertly unlocked her door, letting them inside. He swung the door shut behind them while his hands grabbed her hips and slid her down the front of his body, slowly, until her feet were on the floor.

Clare gulped nervously as she stared up at him, trying to calm her heart rate and slow her breathing, which had rocketed the moment his eyes bored into hers. It was damn near impossible with the dazzling, mischievous smile he was flashing at her. She could get lost in the dimples in his cheeks, the only boyish part of him. Everything else was rock-hard muscles, towering build, and rugged good looks. He had yet to touch her, but his eyes were doing something more intimate to her than she had ever experienced.

Suddenly, she realized that he was waiting for her. He wanted her to make the first move—just as he had done earlier, forcing her to tell him she wanted him to kiss her. She hadn’t thought it possible, but her heart rate increased more at the pressure of the moment.

She knew if she said yes right now, it would be the end of any denying what was happening between them. It would be officially erasing the line she had drawn between herself and everyone else in the world, the line she had drawn all around her. Was he right earlier? Was she trying to keep everyone out? She bit her lip at the thought, watching his silver eyes darken.

“Clare.” His voice thundered deeply in warning. She knew what he wanted her to say, but her throat was dry.

Her body hadn’t responded this way to anyone in as long as she could remember, not since she first dated Travis in high school. But even then, it wasn’t what she felt now. This was something entirely different. It didn’t stop at butterflies in her stomach; it entranced her entire body. Warmth crept through any part of her that was near him, which right now was every part of her. Her heart swelled just from looking at him; her skin shivered at the mere closeness of his.

She slowly reached one hand up between them and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart. She had done the same thing earlier to calm herself; it was as if he could talk to her through the beating in his chest, telling her things he couldn’t say out loud.

His heartbeat sped up under her palm and she bit her lip, slowly raising her eyes to meet his again. It was like an electric shock, bolting through her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. His eyes undid her in a way she had never experienced before.

She quivered slightly, her balance faltering as she tried to get ahold of everything that was rushing through her. She felt she had been standing and staring at him for an eternity, when really only seconds had gone by. The truth was that her entire body felt as though it was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to rip off every clothing barricade between them.

She didn’t want to be afraid of everything anymore.

She didn’t want to be acquaintances.

She wanted him.

And it terrified her.

“Rory, I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, as his hands moved from her hips and began pulling his jacket off her, dropping it in a puddle at her feet.

“What’s wrong?” He blinked in confusion, stepping back and frowning.

“Nothing…” She faltered, stammering, “I don’t know—uh, I’m not—you don’t want to do this with me, Rory. I’m a mess; you don’t want me.” She pushed off the door and crossed her arms over her waist, hugging herself.

“I don’t want you?” he asked, one brow raised as he stared at her. She nodded and held herself tighter.

“Damn, woman, you’re a fucking emotional roller coaster.”

Clare pouted at his exclamation, wondering if he was going to storm out now and realize that she was right.

She wasn’t worth the effort.

“Since leaving Legends, I think we have laughed, fought, kissed, argued, and everything in between.”

“I’m sorry, Rory. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just—” She frowned, and her eyes dropped to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared—it’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I just don’t think you know what you’re getting into. You won’t want this. You won’t want me.”

“Stop.” He was suddenly close to her again, his fingers under her chin, tilting it up toward him. “Don’t do that; don’t sell yourself short.” He kissed her on one corner of her lips, then moved to the other. “And don’t tell me I don’t want you.”

“Rory—” She squirmed, trying to push away the pulsing heat that had just shot through her at his kisses.

He interrupted her with his fingers on her lips, quieting her with the commanding look in his darkened eyes. His fingers moved down to her neck and shoulder, before lightly tracing their way down her arm and grabbing her hand. Her breathing hitched as his hand moved hers to the front of his pants and she felt the firm, powerful length beneath her fingertips.

“Mhuirnín, does it feel like I don’t want you?” His voice dropped further, a huskiness to it now as he pressed her hand harder against his length. She blinked at his words, opening her mouth to respond, but then saying nothing.

Sliding his free hand around her waist, he slipped it beneath her shirt and pressed it against her bare back. Her skin burned with desire and she licked her lips, unable to pull her eyes away from him. That was all the signal he needed before crushing his lips to hers.

Sagging into him, she let her hands move up his body, feeling every inch of him before settling them around his neck. He lifted her into his arms once more, his hands cupping her bottom as her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her away from the front door and down the hallway, their lips still entangled as he let her point the way to the bedroom.

It was rough. It was passionate.

It was everything Rory Kavanagh was.

“Clare, tell me what you want,” he coaxed, sitting her on the edge of the bed as he kneeled in front of her.

She froze, blinking in confusion, and realized that no one had ever asked her that question. He was eye level with her, despite the fact that she was sitting on the edge of the bed and he was kneeling on the floor in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as his expression turned sad for a moment, before being replaced with a determination that frightened her in a good way.

“Will you let me try to find out?” His previous huskiness was replaced with softness as he swept a few stray pieces of hair behind her ear. She nodded nervously, unable to speak as she trembled in his arms.

He smiled warmly, the heat returning to his eyes as he began lifting her shirt over her head. She helped him shrug it off, leaving her before him in the lacy black bra. He kissed her again, gently, as he unhooked it behind her and pressed her tightly against him.

Her top half was now bare, the chill of the air causing her to shiver. The cold didn’t last long, though, as his mouth came down on her breast so quickly that the warmth spread straight down to her core.

She moaned and threw her head back as she focused on the sensation and surprised herself with how badly she needed to touch him back. She ran her fingers through his dark brown, wavy hair as he continued to devour her.

He pulled a nipple in between his teeth, gently biting her and causing her to jolt in surprise. Clare gasped, tensing instantly as she realized that she had actually enjoyed that. Smirking naughtily, he raised his head and pressed his mouth against hers again, slipping his tongue between her lips as she greedily kissed him back.

With his hands on either side of her chest, he gently pushed her top half down, leaving her lying on the bed with her legs over the edge against his kneeling form. His hands hooked into the waistband of her jeans and pulled them off her in one quick motion, leaving Clare completely nude except for a pair of black lace panties.

“You’re so beautiful.” He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand. Her mouth ran dry as she took in his perfectly sculpted chest and abs, before he climbed over her and found a breast with his mouth once more.

She moaned in response, squirming beneath him and surprising herself as she realized that she was pressing her hips against him, the buildup within her demanding some release.

“Patience, mhuirnín,” he teased, releasing her breast with his mouth, only to instead travel down her stomach with soft kisses, nibbling her flesh gently. She felt the bed move as he slid off and back onto his knees in front of her.

She flushed with embarrassment at being so vulnerable in front of someone, immediately trying to cover herself with her hands. He growled in protest, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to either side of her instead.

“Rory, please,” she moaned, unsure of what she wanted. She wasn’t used to being on display like this.

“Trust me, mhuirnín,” he reminded her, kissing her lower abdomen.

She nodded, gulping down nerves as she tried to slow her breathing. She couldn’t ever remember a time when her body had responded this way to someone. It was as if she couldn’t stop herself from writhing beneath his gaze or pressing her body as close to him as possible. She wanted to run and hide, yet throw herself on him, all at the same time.

Her doubts disappeared as she felt his tongue trail down to her right hip and onto her thigh, completely bypassing where she really wanted him. She panted in frustration, but he just nipped her soft skin in response. He quickly made up for it with a kiss as he trailed just enough north that his lips found the edge of her panties.

Her body froze, and she almost stopped breathing entirely as he let go of her wrists and took hold of her knees, pushing them apart. She trembled as the cold air swept over her heated core.

“Fuck, Clare, you’re so wet,” his voice rumbled before his mouth came down on her, only her panties separating him from her. She bolted straight up at the contact, her body already being so stimulated that the simple touch of his lips made her feel ready to explode.

He didn’t let her pull away. Instead, his hands pushed her shoulders back down onto the bed as he sucked on the fabric between them, tasting her. When she was finally lying down again, trembling beneath him, his hands moved back to her knees, pushing them even farther apart as his teeth grasped the lace and pulled hard.

Clare heard a ripping sound, and was surprised to see him tossing her torn panties over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers for a moment before returning to her now bare mound. With nothing between them, he teased her nub with his tongue, licking the length of her as she moaned and lifted her hips to him.

She felt amazing as his tongue danced over her, causing her to continually buck against his mouth, wanting more; he quickly obliged. Releasing one of her hips, his fingers started at one knee and slowly trailed up her inner thigh. She shivered at the contact, her breathing turning erratic.

She had no idea what he was doing, and the anticipation was excruciating in the best way. His fingers finally found their way to her core, and he slid two digits deep inside as his mouth clamped down on her nub simultaneously. Clare screamed as he sucked and pumped with such force that she knew she was close to exploding.

As she felt herself about to go over the edge, he rotated back and forth between letting his tongue flick over her softly and sucking with ferocity. His fingers moved furiously in and out of her, and she knew she was done. She screamed again, pressing her body as close to him as she could while her climax overtook her and shook through her. He didn’t lighten up or stop until he felt her finally slump down onto the bed, breathing heavily as the room spun around her.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again,” she said and gasped, panting still as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and ogled him down between her legs.

“Don’t worry, mhuirnín, I don’t need you to walk right now,” he teased, before climbing on top of her. One of his arms slipped beneath her back and pulled her up farther onto the bed with him, so that her legs weren’t hanging over the edge anymore.

She squirmed closer against him, suddenly realizing that he was completely naked against her. She hadn’t even noticed him unbutton his pants, but when she glanced down, she could see all of him.

And there was a lot of him to see.

“Rory, I’m not sure I can—” Her eyes widened as she noticed how large he was.

“Kiss me, Clare,” he instructed her instead, tapping his lips lightly.

She saw his hooded eyes, and trembled slightly as her lips met his. One hand moved behind her head as he pressed his mouth firmly against hers, parting her lips with his tongue. As his tongue found its way to hers, Clare hummed with pleasure, unable to stop her body from squirming to get as close to him as possible. After seeing how hard and enticing he was, she found her body was pulsing with a need to have him inside her, despite her fear of that exact same thing.

He pushed his knee between her legs, spreading them apart. She blushed as she realized that she was pressing her core against his thick thighs, the satiated high of a few moments ago already replaced with wanton desire again.

“Do you trust me, mhuirnín?” he paused to ask her, staring into her eyes as he pressed his manhood against her entrance. She nodded, panting and unable to form actual words as he slowly, then all at once, pushed inside her.

Her arms flew around his neck as she pressed her face into the dip between his shoulder and neck, holding on to him tightly as the intensity of his large intrusion swept over her. Luckily, the initial surprise lasted for just a moment as she found herself not only becoming accustomed to his girth, but missing him as he pulled out of her.

She clenched herself around him as he moved into her again, loving the feeling of his warm breath on her as he grunted with each thrust. Every time he left her, she tried to move with him to keep him inside of her, but his one hand gripped her hip tightly and moved her where he wanted as his other hand pressed against the bed by her head, keeping most of his weight off her.

Before she knew it, she felt the familiar pulsing building within her again, and the spasms soon overtook her as he grunted and pressed as deep as he possibly could. One hand slipped between them as he found her nub and rolled it between his fingers. She screamed in response, her back arching off the bed as her high suddenly rocketed to another level and her body pulsed and clenched around him. His eyes closed and he shook against her, leaning farther into her for a moment before collapsing on his side next to her.

Draping one of his thick arms across her, he pulled her against his chest. Her vision was spinning and she was still trying to catch her breath, but she curled into him happily. He reached over and grabbed a blanket that was pushed to the foot of the bed, pulling it over them, wrapping them tighter against each other.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured sleepily into her hair as he nuzzled against her.

“Me? That was all you.” She sighed, blissfully.

“I am pretty impressive.” He pretended to be serious, but she swatted at him playfully. Her hand rested on his arm, still draped across her, and she let her fingers trail up and down the length of it. She softly traced the edges of a bruise he must have gotten from one of the fights earlier, frowning for a moment before continuing her movement.

“If you keep doing that, we are going to have round two in a minute,” he told her, only partly teasing.

“Do what? This?” she asked playfully, leaning up to kiss his jaw softly before moving to his neck. His chest rumbled against her as a moan escaped his lips.

“Yes.”

“Guess I should stop, then.” She pulled away suddenly and smiled at him, clearly enjoying having an effect on his body. The way he responded to her made her feel powerful, something she hadn’t felt ever before.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, rolling over on top of her and capturing her mouth with his.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she said with a giggle, between kisses. He pulled back slightly and gave her a quizzical look.

“What is that?”

“The bell to announce the start of round two.”

“What am I going to do with you, mhuirnín?” he teased.

“I can think of a few things…”

Rory’s arm felt heavy the next morning as he woke up, quickly realizing that he was at Clare’s apartment and her head was on his shoulder. He smiled as he studied her sleeping face, a peacefulness displayed that he hadn’t seen before. There was always a hint of worry behind her smile, but right now it was gone and he loved seeing her that way.

He looked over at her nightstand and frowned as he realized that he was late for his training session with Kane. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay in bed right now, thanks to the company he was with, but he knew he couldn’t back out of his commitments.

“Clare?” He pushed several strands of hair off her face, gently, as her eyes flickered and opened.

“Morning, beautiful.” He smiled as she came around.

“Hi.” Her voice was still sleepy as she peered up at him, curling farther into his chest as he lay on his side gazing down at her.

“I’ve got to head over to Legends to meet Kane. Want to come?”

“And get out of this warm bed? Doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Smart woman.” He kissed her forehead before pulling away and climbing out of bed. He could feel her eyes following him as he traipsed around the room, locating his clothes in the various places they had been strewn the night before.

“Bye, mhuirnín,” he said as he returned to her bedside, fully clothed, and kissed her again. He lingered as their lips tangled together, his hand on her cheek.

She finally broke their kiss. “See you later.”

“You better,” he teased, before he left the bedroom and located his jacket by the front door.

Slipping a hand into his pocket, he found his latest bottle of medication and pulled it out, staring at it. He peeked back at the bedroom, tucking the bottle back in his pocket before leaving the apartment. He was surprised that he hadn’t needed to take some pills before falling asleep last night, and nor had he woken up craving any.

As he walked down the stairs of Clare’s apartment building, he stretched his legs and felt the stiffness in his knee. Shockingly, it wasn’t too bad; only a slight ache reminded him of his injury. He pushed the pills deeper into his pocket, rolling the bottle around in his hand as he thought about it.

He had enjoyed the fact that there were many doctors among the members of Legends who were convinced, with some strong-arming, to write him numerous prescriptions. After all, he was the son of Seamus Kavanagh and one would be hard-pressed to find a man in Woodlawn arrogant enough to oppose the leader of the Kavanagh empire.

Rory didn’t often like to use his father’s name to call in favors, but he needed these pills. If he had to scare a few doctors, and toss around his father’s reputation of running with the Westies back in the seventies, then so be it. While the Irish Mafia had died down almost two decades ago, the few members left scattered throughout New York City carried both respect and fear for Seamus, making sure everyone else did, too.

The Seamus that Rory knew wasn’t an ex-mobster, though, or even frightening. The father he had always known was loving, but tough. He was a ruthless businessman, but generous to a fault. Rory had always admired him, hoping to emulate him one day, but mostly hoping to earn his respect. Yet here he was, fingers clutched around a small bottle of pills.

He wasn’t living up to his father’s strength and fortitude.

The legend that he had always wanted to become.

Rory sighed as he finally arrived back at his apartment, fiddling with his keys in the door and pushing the bottle even deeper into his jacket pocket. He knew he had to hurry to shower and change, then go train Kane, so he didn’t have any time to dwell on the mess he had made of his life. Maybe making his brother a champion fighter would finally make their father proud. Maybe that was how he would live up to the legend his father had created.

Ace ran to him, wagging his tail eagerly. Rory scratched him behind his ears, suddenly realizing that staying with Clare all night had left Ace without a trip outside for way too long.

“Shit, sorry, bud.” Ace didn’t seem to mind too much, but he was casting longing looks toward the door.

Leashing the dog, Rory turned and headed back outside for a few minutes, then, once back inside, trudged over to where he stored Ace’s food and scooped some into his dish. Satisfied to see Ace enjoying his breakfast, Rory turned and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table of his home, eyeing a bottle of whiskey sitting forgotten.

Clare’s words suddenly began playing in his mind. “I’m so tired of the constant pity party you’re always throwing yourself. As if I can’t smell the alcohol on you. As if we all can’t, every single day. You have an amazing life—why would you not want to experience it?”

Rory’s cheeks burned hot at the reminder, gluing his feet to the floor as he stood and stared down the bottle of whiskey. Feeling the pills in his pocket, he pulled out the bottle again and placed it on the table next to the whiskey. Pulling off his coat, he slung it over a chair and took a deep breath.

Finding some momentum, he turned and briskly relocated to the bedroom, pulling open his nightstand drawer and scooping up all the prescription bottles inside. There were way too many. Bringing them back out to the kitchen, he set them all on the table with the other.

He made the trip a few times around his apartment, finding more bottles of pills and alcohol in obscure locations, where he had hidden them. His kitchen table became filled to capacity as every inch of the small surface was lined with different types of bottles. When he was finished collecting, he pulled out a chair and sat in front of all the bottles and stared back at them.

Ace plodded over to him, dropping down in a pile of fur at his feet and beginning to snore in record time. Rory’s knee was now throbbing; the surprisingly dull ache from earlier had intensified, and now it was all he could concentrate on. The last time he had taken pills was before the meet last night, and they had long since worn off.

Maybe he didn’t need the drugs as much as he thought he did. Maybe the pain was mostly in his head. After all, when he had woken up, it hadn’t been as bad as it usually was. Standing up slowly, he flexed his leg, testing the level of pain. He winced instantly as pain shot up through his thigh and into his torso.

It wasn’t just in his head.

Forcing the pain out of his mind as much as possible, he paced over to the kitchen sink, reached under, and pulled out a fresh trash bag. Shaking it open, he returned to the table and scooped armfuls of alcoholic and prescription pill bottles into the bag until the surface was clear. Twisting and tying the top, he told Ace to stay there as he headed to the front door.

He was in pain. Hell, this is excruciating pain, he thought.

But he wanted to change. He wanted to be the person Clare knew he could be. He wanted to be the legend his father was. He wanted to be so many things that he couldn’t ever reach while he was still under the thumb of booze and pills.

This was it.

He was done.