Over the following week, they settled into a groove together—sharing meals, taking long walks around the grounds of Moonstone Manor, visiting with Tierney’s brothers and Brittany on Wednesday night, and spending quiet time together in the evenings, watching TV or reading.

Tierney was a balm for the upheaval of Burr’s soul, which had been tried and tested, burned and battered over his long years in the service of Sean Shanahan. Like a soldier returning home after a long and gruesome battle, Burr desperately craved the well-ordered gentleness of Tierney’s quiet life, and to his everlasting gratitude, she shared it with him selflessly.

On their early morning and evening walks, often hand in hand, she’d point out flowers (she said her favorites were asters, but she always bent down to pick buttercups as they walked), or points of historical interest. There was a wishing well at one far corner of the property, and she still brought a penny to throw in every time. And hidden in a quiet copse, there was a stone bench with the initials LCG (Lily Christopher Gish) engraved on it. Almost completely overtaken by wild lilies, he was fairly certain it was Tierney’s favorite place on the entire estate because she smiled so broadly whenever they passed it.

He’d finally seen the view from the lookout tower, which was sweeping and grand, showing the entirety of the New Hampshire Lakes Region, but it didn’t hold a candle to Tierney’s smile as she took it in, wisps of her black hair blown back from her cheeks as she grinned at him. “Beautiful, right?”

“Never seen anything more beautiful,” he’d answered, looking straight into her eyes.

It was hell not to reach for her, not to touch her and kiss her, and at night, when she closed her door and turned off her light, his deprived body longed for hers, ached for hers with an unholy level of arousal. He’d taken to long walks in the dark, followed by cold showers before bed. It didn’t help much. He wanted her. Bad.

But perhaps even more important, he’d begun to realize that he needed her—Tierney Haven was bringing him back to a place of hope after a long sojourn with the damned.

Was it possible to spend three years in hell and leave it behind?

It had always seemed so unfair to Burr that names became inextricably bound in the world of crime. I say Hinckley, you say Reagan. I say Oswald, you say Kennedy. Why should murderers have the legacy of their names being bound with men of honor? They didn’t deserve it, and he hated that it was so. And now, he wondered, would his name—Burr O’Leary—be bound to the New Killeens for life? Would both be spoken in the same breath forever?

You’ve heard of Burr O’Leary! They guy who brought down the New Killeens thirty years ago!

No tale of the New Killeens would be complete without mentioning Burr O’Leary, the Boston cop who lived undercover with them for three years and…

If it isn’t Burr O’Leary, yer man who knocked off the New Killeens!

He didn’t want that legacy. In fact, he hated it. Passionately.

Burr knew he had done his job and done it well, but he had not come back from the battle unscathed. And he didn’t know how to bear a life wherein he was reminded—good-naturedly, but at every turn—that once upon a time, he’d done something good that had required him to see and do terrible things. He’d watched as men had their limbs broken, lives destroyed, and unmarked graves filled. He never wanted to think about the New Killeens again as long as he lived.

And being with Tierney made that possible.

She didn’t ask much about his life in Boston, outside of questions about his family, and that was fine with Burr, because he really didn’t want to discuss his work. Her life—her sweet, serene life—was a throwback to simpler times, eons away from the gritty streets of Southie and the treacherous corners of Dorchester.

He’d checked online, and there hadn’t been one murder or robbery in Moultonborough since before 2004. Well over a decade. Not that there wasn’t some violent crime here and there, but compared to the rest of the country, or—for fuck’s sake—Boston? It was practically nonexistent. It was a different world than his, and part of him—a growing part of him—coveted it.

“Summerhaven party tomorrow,” said Tierney as they walked the south path, the last rays of dying sun filtering through the trees in gold and orange.

They’d been over to her brother’s camp this morning to help set up, and once again, Burr had been struck by the love and loyalty between the Haven siblings, which inevitably made him think of Suzy. He’d considered calling her once or twice, from a pay phone or his burner, just to check on her. But he figured it was better to wait. As soon as Sean and his gang were arrested, Burr could return to Boston, explain everything to his family, and hopefully resume his place in their lives. He desperately wanted to be a son and brother again, and—for the first time, thank you, Lord—an uncle too.

“Yeah. What time do you want to go?”

“We can leave here around one thirty. As soon as I’m done here, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

Tierney had explained that as of Labor Day on Monday, Moonstone Manor would only be offering tours at nine, ten, eleven, and twelve o’clock every morning—and only on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Her free days and September afternoons would be spent readying the estate for the long winter ahead.

It had been almost two weeks now since he’d arrived on her doorstep and just about as long since she’d made that fateful call to Mass General. By this point, Burr was almost positive that either one, her phone call to the hospital hadn’t been traced, or two, if it had been, and they’d tried calling her number, received an out-of-service message, and considered it a dead end. The New Killeens worked quick, and they would have shown up by now if they had her address. That said, he still wouldn’t leave her until he was one hundred percent certain that her safety was assured.

While lying in bed at night, trying not to think about Tierney, he’d processed some of his feelings about Ray’s betrayal. He still didn’t understand how Ray could sell him out like that. For three years, Burr had considered Ray his best friend, his lifeline to his old life; almost a brother. But somehow, Ray had been behind Suzy’s shooting and Fat Billy’s unsuccessful hit on him. Why? Money? Power? Burr didn’t know, and mostly he didn’t fucking care. It didn’t matter. Ray was a rat. The rest was just noise.

But knowing that Ray, someone Burr had trusted implicitly, could so casually betray him made him feel unsettled. Would he ever be able to trust another partner? How could he do his job effectively in the future if he couldn’t let down his guard around a future partner? It bothered him. It worried him. His job was not just his livelihood but a large part of his identity, and if he couldn’t do it well, who was he?

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Tierney, taking his hand in hers and braiding their fingers together.

He welcomed her touch. It made it harder for him not to want more, but it also soothed the riot of emotions inside of him. “Just…thinking.”

“Exactly. Ergo the offer of a penny.”

“Bad deal for you,” he said. “They’re not worth a penny, aisling.”

He just didn’t want to talk about Ray or the New Killeens or his job. The closest he could come to talking about any of it was mustering up a question about his hometown.

“You ever been to Boston?” he asked.

“Many times,” she answered. “To the museums. To Broadway shows. Shopping for a first communion dress with my mother. Once for the Saint Patrick’s parade.”

“What did you think?” he asked.

“About the parade?” she murmured, hedging the question. “Well. I…um…”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Not at all. I was terrified,” she confessed. “There were so many people, and everyone was drunk and rowdy, bumping into each other and getting into fights. I…I don’t know. They were drinking green beer and yelling ‘air-inn go braw’ in butchered Irish, and I—I guess I just didn’t get it.”

“Probably because you’re Irish every day,” he said. “You don’t need a parade to celebrate it.”

“Maybe…but no,” she said, “it was more than that. I think it was just too much for me. The city. The craziness. I’d prefer a family dinner of corned beef, mashed potatoes, and cabbage. An Irish blessing before. A long walk after.”

He chuckled softly at her quiet idea for the perfect St. Paddy’s Day celebration, so different from the way Boston celebrated—and yet so completely appealing.

“Yer puir Oirish, Tierney.”

“Guilty,” she said.

“So you’ve only been to Boston as a tourist,” he confirmed, dropping the accent.

She nodded. “Yes. I’ve never lived there. I’ve never lived anywhere but New Hampshire.”

“Never visited friends there? During college? Stayed in a dorm for a weekend?”

“Nope. I’ve never stayed longer than a night, and frankly, I was always relieved to come home.” She chuckled softly. “Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m a country mouse, not a city mouse.”

He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. It was one of the most appealing things about her: that she didn’t seem to require the modern conveniences that most of the woman in her generation took for granted.

“I saw you got your phone replaced.”

“I did. Someone broke it.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Ah, it’s all right. I only use it to talk to family.”

“I never see you on Facebook or Instagram or anything,” he said as they headed down the hill, back toward her cottage.

“I have accounts on both,” she answered, “but I’m bad at keeping them updated.”

“You don’t care about them?”

She sighed. “Not really. I mean, everyone I care about is here. I see them. They see me. Why would they need to look at my Facebook page? Actually…maybe that’s a little selfish. My mom might like it—to see the boys and me at family dinner or enjoying a day at Summerhaven—but I share pictures with them when I visit them, which is at least once a month, so…no. You’re right. I guess I don’t care about Facebook or Instagram. Life isn’t lived on a computer. It’s here,” she said, spreading out her free arm, “all around us.”

Was it any wonder this unique woman had so captured his imagination?

He squeezed her fingers gently, thinking about the fact that sooner or later he’d need to go back to Boston. His life was there—his job, Suzy, everything. Not only would he have to go back to testify against Sean and the New Killeens, but he needed to mend fences with his family. Not to mention, there were friends there he hadn’t seen in years. He should catch up with them, right?

Soon he’d leave her and go back to Boston.

…which sounded awful.

He comforted himself by remembering that she’d promised to hold on to her feelings and wait for him, but right now, he was having a hard time imagining where Tierney would fit into his real life, and it troubled him. How could they give things a try if he needed to be in Boston and she couldn’t stand it there?

“What about you?” she asked, as though reading his mind. “What do you love so much about Boston?”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m sixth-generation Boston proud. Fourth-generation cop. My sister’s there. My aunts, uncles, cousins, friends. My father and mother are in Florida, but they used to come back up once a month and at least for three weeks at Christmas and in the summer. I don’t know…” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know if they still do that, but I assume they do.”

“You’ll find out soon,” she said, adjusting their hands so that her palm was flush with his. “They’ll be so proud of you once they understand everything.”

He wasn’t as certain as she.

He’d done his job, sure, but there’d been collateral damage in Suzy’s injury, and it felt like a betrayal of sorts. His sister hadn’t signed up for the risks he’d taken; it seemed unfair that she’d paid such a high price. Would his parents and sister forgive him? He hoped so. He desperately hoped so. But he’d understand if they needed time. He’d wait years if that’s what it took. One day, they’d be ready to accept him again, and he’d be there, in Boston, waiting.

Far, far away from Moonstone Manor and the sweet, soothing presence of Tierney Haven.

They were approaching her cottage, which was lit by the moon, and his heart felt like lead, and he let go of her hand at the door.

He liked her so much—more every hour of every day. It was going to hurt to say good-bye. He wasn’t bound to her, but he was firmly attached, and it hurt when attached things were forced apart. It would be painful for both of them, and if he wanted to spare them that pain, it would be best to leave quietly as soon as he found out that Sean had been arrested. It would be best to leave in the dark of night, without a word, without the torture of good-bye.

He knew this, and yet he couldn’t bear to imagine it, so he forced it from his mind, leaning down to tenderly brush his lips against her forehead as his heart tried to imagine a scenario in which they could stay together.

“Thanks for walking with me,” he murmured, his lips lingering against her skin.

“I love our walks,” she whispered, her voice soft and low, her breath dusting his throat and making him shiver.

“Thank you for letting me stay here with you, Tierney,” he said, knowing that when he returned to his life, he would have her to thank for any healing that had taken place—both physically and emotionally—while he’d been away.

“You’re protecting me,” she said, her voice breathless.

“You’re letting me,” he murmured.

His lips grazed her skin again, gently dragging against the warm softness, his hands fisted by his sides as he fought against pulling her into his arms. He closed his eyes, breathing in the light scent of her shampoo, and he realized he wasn’t sure who was protecting whom anymore. He was vigilant in making certain that the property of Moonstone Manor wasn’t breeched, but she had given him sanctuary here, and there was a part of him—a strong and growing part—that she’d guarded in her own gentle way.

“I’m going to check on the gate,” he said, drawing away from her.

“Yes. Right.” She cleared her throat and pushed up her glasses. “And my Kindle’s waiting for me.”

“Oiche mhaith, aisling,” he said, his voice reverent and low as he looked down at her, trying to memorize every moment he had left.

“Good night, Burr,” she answered, backing up against the door, turning the knob, and walking inside.

***

Tierney sat on a blanket beside Burr, their hands clasped inconspicuously between them, while Ian sat on Burr’s other side, and Brittany sat beside Tierney.

Fireworks lit the sky, and the small crowd on the point oohed and aahed their appreciation.

Tierney turned just a touch to see bright white reflected in Burr’s eyes, his lips upturned as he glanced at her quickly before training his gaze back at the sky for more magic.

It had been a pretty perfect day. Tierney had led her four morning tours, then locked up the estate; packed a bag with towels, a bathing suit, and a change of clothes; then given her Jeep keys to Burr to he could drive them up to Summerhaven. On the way, Jason Mraz’ song “I’m Yours” had played on the radio, and she had grinned at Burr, who sang along in a pleasing tenor and occasionally looked over at her, as though he was singing to her:

So I won’t hesitate no more, no more. It cannot wait…I’m yours.

Her cheeks had bloomed with pleasure, but her chest had tightened with the swift reminder of how much he’d come to mean to her in the short time she’d known him and how much she wanted her feelings to have the chance to grow. Except that every day they spent together was also one day closer to them saying good-bye.

When she’d agreed to “wait” for him, they hadn’t discussed what that would look like when they were finally free to explore their feelings for each other. But the closer that day came, the more she forced herself to face the implausibility of it. She lived in New Hampshire, where she was happy—she loved her job and her cottage and being so close to her brothers. And from everything he’d shared with her, he was—in his own words—“Boston proud,” a fourth-generation police officer.

Would they have some kind of long-distance relationship that relied on technology, keeping in touch over the phone with occasional visits? Was it possible to sustain a long-term relationship that way? She wasn’t sure. She’d never tried it before, though she felt strongly that texts and phone calls were no substitute for reaching for someone, kissing them as well, or holding them after a bad day.

And what if—against all odds—the feelings they had now only continued to grow? Would he expect her to move to Boston? Would she expect him to move to New Hampshire? Which of them would have to make the sacrifice of leaving their family, their home, their life? Because she didn’t love it that either of them would have to uproot themselves from a life they’d chosen and built.

It was premature for these questions on one hand, but Tierney was a sensible person; she wasn’t going to leave the scenario for dating Burr unexplored in her head. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, and she snuck another look at him. Watching the sky, his profile was strong and handsome—high cheekbones; dark hair, brows, and lashes; the shadow of a black beard highlighting his strong jaw. Her attraction to him was extreme, but her body wasn’t the only thing affected by Burr; more and more, her heart was on the line too.

Would something emotionally intense, but ultimately temporary, be worth the heartache later? Because she couldn’t picture herself living happily in a big city, and she couldn’t picture him leaving it for a girl he barely knew.

The grand finale rent the starless sky, decorating the firmament like the most brilliant-ever Christmas tree…and then, with a handful of wistful bangs, the show was over, the dark sky left empty and forlorn.

“Ah, that was great,” said Burr, turning to her with a wide, easy grin. “Fireworks make me feel like a kid on the Fourth of July!”

She wanted to smile back at him, but she found herself a little stuck in her head, which still whirled with unplayed scenarios and troubling eventualities.

“Hey aisling,” he said, still grinning at her, “how about a smile?”

“Téigh dtí diabhail,” she answered softly, unable to keep herself from giving him a small smile, because he was incorrigible, and it delighted her to no end.

“Fuck off, huh?” He beamed at her. “Someday you’re going to give me another answer.”

“Don’t count on it,” she said, letting him help her up.

“So? Wasn’t it beautiful?” Brittany asked Burr. “We watched them from the roof of a cottage last time.”

Rory, who had his arms around Brittany from behind, leaned forward and kissed her neck. “I’m going to help Doug get everyone out of here, and then I’m taking you to bed, mo mhuirnin.”

“Gross. You feeling sick, Tier?” asked Ian, proceeding to gag.

“I just threw up in my mouth,” she muttered, covering her lips with her hand.

“You know what, Ian?” said Rory. “Why don’t you keep your salty comments to yourself and go help Doug so I can take my woman home?”

Ian nodded, still looking queasy. “Sure. Whatever you need. Anything to get these images out of my head.”

Brittany swatted Ian on the arm. “Sure it’s not jealousy, tiger?”

“Might be,” said Ian, winking at her.

Tierney gave Ian a hug before he took out his flashlight and disappeared into the night to help people find their way to the parking lot at the top of the path.

“Guess that’s it for us, too,” said Tierney. “Need us to come back tomorrow and help clean up?”

Rory shook his head. “Got me, Ian, Doug, and Mrs. Toffle on cleanup.”

“And me!” said Brittany.

“Oh, yeah. And one heiress from Boston.”

“She’s a damn good worker,” said Tierney.

“Copy that,” said Rory, sliding his eyes to Burr and offering him a hand. “Good to see you again, Brian.”

“You too, Rory.”

“Going to be at Tierney’s on Wednesday?”

“Should be,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

Brittany stepped out of Rory’s half-embrace and put her arms around Burr’s neck, giving him a squeeze. “Tierney looks happy with you,” she said, loud enough for Tierney to hear.

When Brittany let go and backed away, Burr looked down at Tierney, his eyes soft. “It’s the other way around. I’m happy with her.”

Brittany gasped then sighed. “Aww. You two!”

“Enough about them. You. Me. Bed,” said Rory a la Neanderthal, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand and tugging her away. “’Night, Tier!”

Tierney giggled as Brittany looked back and waved cheerfully before letting Rory pull her home.

“They’re good together,” she said, turning to Burr.

“They are.”

“Ready to go?”

“I have to make a quick phone call,” he said.

“Can you make it in the car?” she asked, holding out her hand for her car keys. “I can drive home.”

He pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them to her. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Five minutes later, as they followed a parade of cars from the Summerhaven parking area, Burr withdrew his phone and dialed a number.

“Captain? Yeah, it’s me. Uh-huh. Oh, wow. Yeah. It worked, huh? Good. Good. Um…okay. Well, I don’t give a shit about that…Uh-huh. He can go fuck himself. Right. Tell me what you got.”

Tierney concentrated on the pitch-dark back roads that led from Sandwich to Moultonborough, trying not to be obvious about listening to every word.

“Whoa. Really? Holy shit! Did he know you were coming?” Burr ran his free hand through his hair. “Jaysus, that was risky. Yeah, well. Those guys have balls of steel. Then what?”

She got the feeling that he was getting a play-by-play of some sort of “bust” or something and desperately wished she could hear the other side of the conversation.

“Wednesday? God. So fast. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I can be there. For sure.” He cleared his throat. “No bail, captain. I’ll say whatever I have to say. Those fuckers need to stay in jail until their fucking court date.”

Wednesday? What was happening on Wednesday, and where did Burr need to be?

For the first time since he’d started his conversation, her curiosity was outpaced by a surprisingly strong feeling of dread, and her thoughts during the firework show rushed back to her. Would this be their final night together at Moonstone Manor? Because damn it, but she wasn’t ready to change gears yet. She liked having him live at her cottage. She liked seeing him first thing every morning and before she closed her door for bed every night. She wasn’t ready for their quiet time together to be at an end.

But another thought occurred to her that swept all others from her mind.

My hands will stay tied until Sean Shanahan is behind bars.

Her heart beat faster as she realized that if he’d gotten the news that Sean Shanahan had been arrested…that meant her promised wait would be, well, over. Which meant kissing and touching and…and—Oh, God—

Her heart fluttered, and warmth pooled in her belly making her want to squirm in her seat.

—sex.

“Uh-huh. Yes, sir. No problem. Yep. Tomorrow afternoon.” He paused, glancing at Tierney quickly before looking away. “I’ll see you then. Thank you, sir. Good-bye.”

Pulling the phone from his ear, he hung up the call and shifted in his seat to put it back in his pocket just as Tierney rolled down her window to punch in the gate code at home.

Without saying anything, she pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine but sitting in the dark quiet with her hands still on the steering wheel, waiting for him to say something, to say anything. She needed to know what was happening and what it meant for them.

“We need to talk,” he said.

She couldn’t manage much but a soft, “Mm-hm.”

“How about I make a fire and you get us two beers?” he asked.

“O-Okay,” she whispered, wishing she could take a deep breath, but only managing a shallow one.

The thought of Burr leaving hurt her heart, but the wall coming down between them turned on her body, making her hyperaware of him and of everything they’d put on hold until…until…now.

She opened her door without looking at him and beelined for the house, unlocking the door and stepping inside. Alone in the darkness, she leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

Are you ready for this?

For what, exactly?

For whatever lies ahead, she thought. Being with him. Losing him. Whatever is about to happen.

Oh, God, I hope so.

Shoving away from the door, she threw her bag on the sofa and walked to the kitchen, taking two cold beers from the lower shelf and popping off the caps. She kicked off her sandals and opened the back door, stepping outside to find him lighting the small fire he’d built in her copper fire pit.

She held out the beer, and he took it from her, clanking it against hers.

“Sean’s been arrested. He’s in jail,” he said. “For now.”

Still standing about a foot away from him, like a deer in headlights, she watched as he pulled an Adirondack chair a little closer to the fire. Then he kicked off his shoes, sat down, put his beer on the grass, and looked up at her.

“Come here. Come and sit with me.”

“W-With you?”

He didn’t smile. His unblinking eyes didn’t slip away from hers. His arms rested on the arms of the chair. Finally he nodded, his voice firm. “With me.”

Her heart pounded with anticipation as she closed the distance between them, her eyes cast down, her hands almost shaking. Was she supposed to straddle him? N-No. Surely not. Maybe she should turn around and back up onto his lap, but her ass would be eye-level to him, so maybe she should—?

He solved this somewhat excruciating quandary for her, leaning forward to take her hand and pull her down onto his lap. As if he knew that she was in unfamiliar territory, he directed her.

“Put your legs through there,” he said, indicating the space between the armrest and seat. “Now lean back against on me, and I’m going to put my arms around you like this.”

With her body sideways against his, she could lay her cheek perfectly on his shoulder.

“You good?” he asked. “Comfortable?”

Tierney couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good or so comfortable, and she sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured.

He cleared his throat, shifting a little. “This might be harder than I thought.”

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve been fantasizing about you for two weeks, Tierney. Suddenly having you on my lap is…well…”

She knew what he was talking about; she could feel a particular part of him swelling and hardening in his jeans beneath her bottom. Her cheeks flamed so she kept her eyes closed and buried her head deeper into his neck, her forehead resting against the warm skin of his throat. She felt him swallow and clear his throat again.

“Tell me what your captain said,” she asked him.

“Right. Right. Um…Sean and four of his top guys were arrested. He finally scheduled a meet-up with Ray to find out where I was hiding out. Apparently, he had no idea where I’ve been. So you’ve been safe this whole time.”

“Of course I have,” she said, “because you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He took a breath, but it was choppy, and she leaned back to look into his eyes. “Are you—are you okay?”

He reached for her cheek, cupping it as he shook his head back and forth slowly. “No. No, I’m not okay. I’m…I’m dying here, Tierney. I don’t want to talk about Sean. I don’t want to talk at all. I want—”

“I know,” she said, her voice deep and breathless. “Me too.”

He pulled her face closer to his, tilting his head as her lips drew closer. “Maybe just…one…kiss.”

The first time Burr had kissed her, it was gentle and tender, a mere brushing of lips to tell her thank you, to tell her good-bye. But this kiss was nothing like that one. This one was hot and fierce, hungry and demanding, and Tierney felt it from the tips of her fingers to the nethermost corner of her soul.

His tongue bathed hers in ardent strokes, his fingers threading through her hair. She moaned her pleasure, arching against him, frustrated by the confines of the chair as he tilted his head to reseal his lips over hers, their teeth clashing as they sought closer contact, a more intimate connection.

“Aisling. Aisling. Sweet Tierney,” he murmured, running his lips over the soft, sensitive skin of her throat, pressing little kisses to her pulse and her jaw and her chin. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her steady as he brushed his lips against hers. “Tabhair póg dom.” Kiss me.

She was bolder now, licking the seam of his lips before seeking his tongue, her own sliding slowly against the velvet heat of his. He groaned, his fingers almost painful in her hair as he demanded more from her, but it was a good pain—it meant that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. For a girl like Tierney, who’d never been wanted like this, it was heady and arousing, and she wanted more, so much more…which is why she whimpered softly in protest when he drew back.

“We have to stop,” he said breathlessly, breaking off their kiss but resting his forehead against hers. “Oh, God, we should stop.”

“No,” she mewled. “No. Sean’s in jail. I’m safe. We don’t—we don’t have to stop,” she said, reaching for him, trying to pull him closer for more.

He took her hands in his, leaning back a little more so that he was out of reach.

“Lord knows how much I want you, Tierney. It’s no secret,” he said, shifting beneath her, his erection pressed unmistakably against her. He searched her face as though trying to figure something out. “But…you’re so…” He took a deep breath and released. “I need to know…Tierney, when was your last time? How long has it been?”

“Oh. Umm.” Her racing heart sank, and she looked away from him, sliding her hands away. “It’s been, um…I mean…” She gulped, her voice barely audible when she added, “I mean, I’ve never actually…”

She couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she held it for a second, mustering the courage to meet his eyes again. When she finally did, his eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise. Her cheeks burned, her embarrassment so sharp, it almost hurt.

“You’ll be my, um…my first,” she whispered, wondering if he’d push her away, if sleeping with a twenty-seven-year-old virgin was too ridiculous to fathom.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he said softly, reaching up to cup her face. His voice was deep and breathless with emotion, his eyes locked with hers. “Are you sure you want to give that to me?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded at him.

“I’m sure,” she said, twisting her head so she could press her lips to the palm of his hand.

“I’ve already taken so much from you,” he said.

“Nothing I haven’t freely given,” she said.

His tongue slid between his lips to wet them, and he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to her lips. When he leaned back he nodded at her, but his tone was serious. “Take tonight to think about it, okay? Please? So I’ll know it was what you wanted and not just…some hasty decision.”

“But tomorrow you’ll be gone,” she said quickly, scanning his eyes.

He looked away for a moment, then nodded. “Then take two nights. I’ll be back on Wednesday. No matter what you decide, Tierney, I’ll be back. I care about you.”

Gently, he pushed her head against his shoulder and put his arms back around her. Tierney snuggled against him, enjoying the heat from the fire and the warmth from his body, still uncertain about a possible future for them but relieved that he’d be back so soon.

“Tell me what you’re going back to.”

“Well…Sean’s been arrested. The arraignment’s on Wednesday. I’m going to say a few words to try to convince the judge not to offer bail. I want him to stay in jail until his court date.”

“Will you see your family?” she asked, flattening her palm against his chest, over his heart.

“I don’t…I mean, I want to, but I don’t know if they’ll want to see me.”

“Burr, they will.”

He flinched, then tightened his arms around her. “You don’t know them.”

“I know Irish people. We’re clannish. We love our families.”

“We also hold grudges,” he said darkly.

She could only imagine how he felt—returning to Boston alone to put away the monster who wanted him dead, then showing up at his sister’s house by himself, anticipating hostility. Her heart swelled with compassion, with deep affection, with a longing to soften everything for him, to support him, to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

“I could go with you,” she whispered impulsively.

He froze. His whole body stilled. In fact, if her hand wasn’t resting over his heart, she’d wonder if it had stopped beating.

Had her suggestion upset him? “I mean…I don’t have to. I just hate the thought you going back alone and I could—”

“You’d do that?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“You’d drop everything and go to Boston with me? You don’t even like Boston.”

She leaned away from him so she could look at his eyes, which were bright and intense in the firelight.

“I like you,” she said simply, reaching up to caress his cheek with the hand that wasn’t on his chest.

“I can’t…” He turned his head to kiss her hand as she’d done to him. “Aisling, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “I offered.”

His eyes were searing as they looked deeply into hers. “Why? Why are you like this? How are you like this?”

“This is just who I am,” she said, wondering if he was trying to tell her that he didn’t want her to go with him. “I just want to be there for you. Unless…Unless you don’t want me to—”

Suddenly she was crushed against him, his arms tight around her. “I want you to. I want you there,” he said gruffly.

“Then I’ll be there,” she reassured him.

“Tierney, Tierney,” he murmured against her neck, his lips pressing against her skin, his breathing shallow and raspy near her ear. “I want you with me.”

Wiggling her hands free, she wrapped them around his neck and cradled him against her chest tenderly, running her fingers through the bristles of his cropped hair.

When was the last time, she wondered, that he’d been held, been supported, been able to trust someone, been free to ask for help, or support, or love? He rested his forehead against her chest, and she held him like a child, like a lover, like a brother, like a human being who was beloved to her. After a few minutes, she realized that they were breathing in tandem, deep breaths in and out, their arms around each other, their hearts close.

“We should get some sleep,” she whispered, still gently caressing his head.

He looked up at her. “Together?”

She grinned at him. “I thought you were giving me tonight to be sure of everything?”

He winced like that was a terrible idea. “I’m an eejit.”

She laughed softly.

“Do you need tonight?” he asked.

Her thoughts slid to her unshaven legs, to the tattered, but comfortable, white cotton bra and panties she’d pulled on at nine o’clock this morning; to the fact that she was sweaty after a day in the sun, and exhausted, and overwhelmed in such a good way. Is this how she wanted to remember her first time? Given the chance, maybe she’d like to take a little time to get ready, to be freshly showered and wearing her cutest lingerie. After twenty-seven years, what difference did another twenty-four hours make anyway?

“Are you asking if I want you?” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, her tongue sliding into his mouth to meet his. They kissed passionately for a moment before she pulled away, looking into his mostly black eyes, fully dilated with only a thin circle of light blue around them. “Yes, I do. I know my mind, and I have no doubts. I know I want you to be my first.”

“Then…?”

“Hold yer horses, boyo.” She pursed her lips. “It’s a milestone, for Lord’s sake! Give a girl a day to plan a little, huh?”

“And here I worried you’d be impulsive.” He chuckled, nodding at her. “I love it when you’re sassy, aisling. Yeah, sure, of course. Take as long as you need.”

“I’m not waiting past tomorrow,” she said, raising her eyebrows and grinning at him. “Is it a nice hotel?”

“It damn well will be now,” he said.

She laughed, drawing her hands away from him and pushing off his lap. “Then I guess I’ll say good-ni—”

“Wait!” he said, reaching up for her hand and leaning forward in his chair as she stood before him. He looked down at her hand, at her Claddagh ring, heart-out, and slipped it carefully from her finger. Gazing up at her, he turned it around, then placed it back on her finger, heart-in. Dropping his lips to her fingers, he kissed the ring, which made her breath catch with longing.

“Good night, aisling,” he whispered.

And Tierney, who didn’t know her heart could hold this much happiness, whispered “Good night, Burr,” hurrying inside before she changed her mind about sleeping with him tonight.