Shane

The afternoon goes by in a lazy haze of laughter and easy flirting. Listening to Makena talk about her family, her crazy cousins, and the small town she grew up in, I realize that even though an ocean separated us, we didn’t have all that different upbringings.

Family is just as important to her as it is to me. And despite how hard she tries to deny it, she’s led by the same creative urges as I am. But I can tell she’s lost that spark, the one that drives an artist to create.

There’s a passion in her that’s laid dormant for too long. I want to be the man who awakens it in her. And not just sexually. I want that spark in her eyes that she occasionally gives me a glimpse of to be unleashed. Because I have a feeling this woman could light up the darkest sky if she was only given the chance to shine.

She doesn’t talk much about her ex, but she doesn’t have to. I already hate him, and I don’t even know the man’s name. All I need to know is that he kept her down, used her as a stepping ladder to build himself up. The asshole was probably just as selfish in bed.

Maybe it’s the whisky, but as the hours pass, the tension that Makena wears around like a shield starts to release. Her eyes brighten, her shoulders lose the stiffness, and that smile of hers lights up her whole face.

“I needed this,” she says, her voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. She’s sitting in the center of the boat, head tilted back, resting against the side, her eyes now closed. The midday sun casts a golden glow across her face.

My one knee rests gently against her shoulder. It’s all the contact I trust myself with.

Too many times during the day, I find my mind drifting to how much I’d like to explore every curve of her sweet little body. I’d take my time, no matter how much she begged for me to fill her quickly.

And she would beg.

Will beg.

Because every minute I spend with her, I know I have to have her. Not today. Not yet. Not until she trusts me. Until all those damn walls she’s got so carefully constructed around herself come crumbling down. I want no more reservations when I possess her body.

God, I’m a selfish prick. I know it’s the truth. Because I know by doing so, by tearing down those walls, I’ll leave her heart exposed. And the woman has already been through too much.

But maybe I can help make her see how much better life is without letting emotions get involved. It’s not using if both people use each other.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asks, eyes open now, watching me with the same hunger I can’t shake off.

“Whenever I’m home.”

“I thought you lived in Dublin.”

“My house is there, but this…” I glance around at the rolling hills that surround the lough. “This will always be my home.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With my mom. She’s had some health problems recently, so I thought she could use the help around the house. But I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m more of a nuisance to her.”

“She never remarried after your father…”

“Died,” I offer, then shake my head. “No. They had the kind of love that ye only get once in a lifetime.”

Makena frowns at me, deep lines furrowing her brow.

“What?” I ask.

“You just…” She sighs. “You just keep surprising me, that’s all. I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“Just because I don’t want it for myself, doesn’t mean I don’t believe in it.”

She shakes her head like I’m a puzzle she can’t figure out. “So, you’d rather be alone for the rest of your life than take a chance on finding that someone special?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with ye.”

She grunts. “And then a redhead next week, and maybe a couple of blondes the week after that-”

“I think I’m starting to prefer brunettes.”

She smacks my leg lightly.

“Plus,” I say, my tone more serious. “Even if ye do find that someone special, ye really don’t know how many years ye’ll get with them.”

“No. I guess you don’t.”

I hate the frown that pulls at her lips, knowing I put it there. I know where her mind goes – to her ex. She’d made vows to the man, and no matter how miserable she may have been with him, I’m sure she’d still be with him if he hadn’t been such an asshole.

Jealousy stirs in the pit of my stomach. The man, whoever the hell he is, never deserved her.

We sit in silence for a time, but it’s not the awkward kind that makes me usually want to jump out of my skin. I’ve never been good at sitting still. It used to drive my parents insane, the way I’d constantly be moving, fidgeting, like I had ants in my pants, as my mom would say.

But sitting here with Makena, there’s a sense of calm that I don’t usually have.

“Ye mentioned yer mom,” I say, wanting to know more about her. Wanting to know everything that makes her who she is. “But ye haven’t talked about yer father.”

She shrugs. “He left us when I was young. Started another family in a different state. I get the odd letter from him, but he’s never really been part of my life.”

Despite the casualness in which she tells me, I know it must have had a major impact on her. Losing a parent always does. But having that parent leave you on purpose seems even worse than having them taken from you. Cillian and Owen went through it with their mom, and I know how difficult it was for them. It’s a betrayal of the worst kind - a parent leaving a child. And I realize that, in a way, I blame my own father for leaving, even though I know that his death wasn’t a choice.

But I have a choice.

By not marrying, not having kids, I’ll never be the asshole who leaves.

Makena surprises me by reaching out and running her thumb across the creases in my brow. The touch is gentle, and the look in her eyes – filled with concern – takes my breath away.

“What are you thinking?”

I take her hand and brush my thumb across her knuckles.

On a sigh, I say, “I hope ye find what ye’re looking for.”

And for the first time in my life, I actually wish I could be that person. But I know in the darkest parts of my soul, I can never be what she needs.

Her hand is soft in mine, and so much smaller. Fragile, and delicate, just like her heart.

Shit. What am I doing?

I’m going to destroy this girl.

Or she’s going to destroy you, a voice chuckles softly in my head, like a premonition.

And it sets off all kinds of warning bells in my brain, scaring the shit out of me, because I know if I let myself, I could fall hard for her.

“We need to go back.” I say, pulling away and shifting onto the boat bench, then unlocking the oars. “There’s rain coming.”

She looks taken aback by my abruptness, and she frowns as she glances up at the sky. It’s still blue except for a few dark clouds in the distance.

But I know how quickly they can come in, and we’ve drifted pretty far out. Plus, I need to get some space between us, get her back to Nora’s and forget about all those tempting curves that have teased and taunted me all day. Because they come with a price. One I’m not willing to pay.

Coward, that voice in my head presses.

Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not willing to be the asshole I know I’ll be if I do the things my cock is urging me to. I’ve never had a white knight complex. Not like Owen. But Makena brings out something in me. A protectiveness I haven’t felt before – even if it means protecting her from myself.

I row the boat back in silence, ignoring the small frowns Makena keeps giving me. Not that I blame her. My mood has taken a more pensive turn, one I’m not used to. I usually leave the brooding to Cillian, and the deep thinking to Owen.

“I think you’re right,” Makena says, glancing up at the dark clouds that have moved in, and shivering. “It’s going to rain.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when the first few drops hit us.

We make it about thirty feet from the shore when the sky opens, drenching us in a cold shower.

Makena squeals, the noise mixed with laughter as she pulls her hoodie over her head. By the time we reach the shore, we’re both soaked straight through.

“Get inside,” I say, helping her out of the boat and tying it off as she jogs toward the cottage.

I shake the rain out of my hair when I meet her just inside the door.

“That came in fast,” she says, rubbing her arms and shivering.

“It should pass soon.” I shut the windows that I’d left open, then start piling a few logs and kindling into the fireplace. “We can just wait it out in here. There should be some blankets in the drawers.”

She follows where I nod, then pulls out two oversized wool blankets while I dig through another drawer to find some matches.

Once the fire has caught, I stand and turn just as she’s pulling her wet hoodie over her head. The t-shirt underneath gets caught up, exposing her stomach.

“Shit,” she mutters, fighting with the damp fabric that seems to have her in a straightjacket-like hold.

I chuckle, moving across the room. “Hold still.”

Lifting her arms, I roll the hoodie up and over her head, accidently taking the t-shirt with it.

The pink satin bra that she’s wearing is slightly damp, and her nipples strain against the material.

Fuck.

Her eyes are wide, her breathing rapid as I stare down at her, and despite the chill in the cabin, heat races through my veins, straight to my cock.

“Shane-” I swear there’s a plea in that one word. A desperate hope that I’ll take her choice away from her.

And I could. Hell, I want to. But there’s too much uncertainty in her eyes. And the last thing I want to be with her is a regret.

“Here,” I grab one of the blankets and wrap it around her shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“I told ye I’d get ye wet,” I say, playing off the intensity of the moment, and the embarrassment I now see in her eyes.

She gives me a small eye roll.

“Are ye hungry?” I open the basket Tommy packed earlier.

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she approaches. There’s something different in her gaze.

“You must be freezing.” Her fingers fist in my t-shirt, then snake under the material, her palms resting on my abs. “You should get out of your wet clothes.”

“Makena.” Her name is a warning on my lips. I don’t reach out to touch her, waiting for her next move. A low growl forms at the base of my throat. “Ye know what’ll happen if I do that.”

She nods, her palms inching up, pushing the material.

I’ve never claimed to be a saint, but as I tug my shirt over my head and toss it on the chair with her hoodie and t-shirt, I feel like the fucking devil himself because I know exactly how this will end.

I stand in front of her, chest bare, watching as her eyes roam appreciatively over my body.

Gripping her chin between my thumb and index finger, I force her to look up at me. “Ye’re not making this friend thing easy.”

“I know,” she says softly as her fingers brush across my abs, then lower, resting just above the waist of my jeans.

My cock strains against the fabric, but I feel the need to give her one last warning. “Just remember this was ye who started it.”

I feel her tremble. “I just…I need…”

“I know.” I crush my lips against hers, because I know exactly what she needs, and hell if I’m going to let her go off and find some other bastard to give it to her.

For tonight, she’s mine.