Shane

I’ve kissed my share of women in my life, but the lust that blasts through my veins the second Makena’s fingers dive in my hair and she pulls my mouth down hard against hers is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Fuck.

The second our lips crash against each other’s, I know I’m screwed. Her lips are soft and yet desperate, and when she whimpers against my mouth, I come undone.

I push her back against the wall. Taking. Consuming. Some primal part of my brain is desperate to have all of her. She gives and takes just as much. Delicate hands grip my hair with a fierceness I never expected from her. Passion and need vibrate through the touch like it has a life of its own.

She smells good. Sweet and fresh. Like fruity shampoo and conditioner.

My thigh presses between her legs, spreading them, and I grind against her, unable to control the wild hunger that edges me on, even though I know I’m pushing her too quick.

I expect her to pull back. To cry out and tell me to stop, pulling her walls back up, and barricading herself in the glass house of reluctance she wears like a goddamn shield.

But she doesn’t.

If anything, her kiss only intensifies. Her fingers pull at my shirt, snaking underneath, palms flattening on my abs as her moan vibrates against my lips. The way she rocks her hips against my jeans-covered cock lets me know exactly what she wants, and that I’m not the only one affected by the pull between us.

“I shouldn’t…” she says against my lips, her hands twisting in my shirt. “We shouldn’t…”

I don’t stop touching her as I growl into her ear. “Give me one good reason, sweetheart, and we’ll stop.”

Her answer is a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know you.”

“Yer body says otherwise.”

“I…” She tilts her head back, resting it against the wall, eyes closed. “I don’t do this.”

“Maybe ye should do it more often.” I tangle my fingers in her hair and rake my teeth across her neck, making her whimper.

I know I’m tempting her, polluting her sweet innocence with my own perverseness, but I don’t care. I want her.

Yeah, I’m a greedy bastard.

And as my mouth crashes against hers again, I know I’m probably going to regret this. I definitely know she will. Women like her always do.

There’s a cough from somewhere down the hall, followed by the front door closing loudly.

Makena jerks in my arms, her eyes flying open as we both glance towards the intruder.

“Wow,” Colleen’s little sister, Nora, stands there, her mouth hanging open. Then, a grin spreads across her face. “I guess Colleen called ye, then.”

I chuckle, but Makena doesn’t seem to see the humor in the situation. One hand goes to her swollen lips, while the other goes straight to my chest, pushing me away.

“Nora,” she says breathlessly. “I didn’t think you were coming until later.”

“Obviously.” The woman grins at us. “I guess I’ll leave ye, then.”

“You don’t have to go,” Makena says quickly, almost desperately. “We were just…”

Nora laughs. “I know what ye were doing.”

“It’s wasn’t…” Makena stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed.

“We were just catching up.” I say, placing an arm over Makena’s shoulder, which she quickly tries to push away.

“Ye know each other?” Nora gives Makena a funny look. “I thought ye said ye hadn’t heard of Wild Irish?”

“I hadn’t…” A crease forms between her brows when she looks between Nora and I, and I can see the moment she realizes who I am. But, instead of the awe I expect to see in her eyes, she continues to frown at me like I just ran over her puppy. She squints up at me. “You’re Wild Irish?

“Part of the band, yeah.” I try and keep the cocky grin that’s usually a permanent fixture on my face, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she either hates our music, or she’s heard about my reputation.

But the latter doesn’t make much sense, because I’ve been pretty damn straight about my intentions since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

“Ye’re not a fan?” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension that’s now almost palpable.

“You…” She ducks away from me and takes a few steps back. “You should have told me.”

“I figured ye already knew. Not many people don’t know my face.” The words come out sounding cockier than I intended, even though I’m only stating the truth.

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to go,” Nora says cautiously. “It was nice seeing ye again, Shane.”

I nod, watching as the woman quickly slips out the door.

“Oh my God.” Makena covers her face with her hands, but I can still see the crimson that colors her cheeks. “And this is why I don’t date.”

“I didn’t know we were dating,” I say, taking a step towards her, ready to get back to where we left off before Nora interrupted us. “But I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with ye.”

Makena puts her hand out to stop me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

“Do what? Spend time with me, or fuck?”

More heat creeps into her cheeks, a look I’m starting to enjoy, because I know it means I’m getting under her skin. And that’s exactly where I want to be. That, and balls deep inside of her.

“Either,” she says, jutting her chin up at me.

“Five minutes ago, yer body was saying something different.”

“That’s before I knew who you were.”

I take another step towards her, watching her stiffen, and yet melt at the same time. The constant war between her mind and body makes her skin flush, her muscles tense, and her bottom lip tremble as her gaze keeps dropping to my mouth.

“And who am I?” I ask, placing my palms on the wall beside her head.

She swallows. “You’re…a celebrity.”

“And that bothers ye?” The woman is odd.

“People like me are toys to men like you. The difference between you and Chad…” A sharp look of pain cuts across her features momentarily, before she continues. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“I never said ye were a toy, love. Just that sex can be enjoyed outside of a committed relationship, by both parties.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” And I hate that she thinks of me the same way she thinks about her ex. Sure, I enjoy sex, but I never promise anything I don’t intend to give. Every woman that’s ever been in my bed has known exactly what they were getting, and most of the time, it’s all they wanted, too.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, then she sighs and says without looking at me, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy-”

“We’re back to the nice guy bit?”

“I just don’t need anymore-” She pauses. So much damn pain swirls in her dark eyes, and I find myself being pulled into her gaze, needing to know the secrets she’s holding back.

I cup her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Anymore what?”

She doesn’t answer right away. “My divorce had enough media attention to last me a lifetime. Let’s just say, if I never see another reporter again, it will be too soon.”

I study her, knowing if I go down this road of questions, I’m going to get more involved than I should. But she has my curiosity piqued.

“Who is he?” I’m starting to get the feeling that her ex is more than just some white-collar jackass who screwed his secretary.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Maybe it doesn’t. But I still want to know. I want to see the face of the asshat who obviously didn’t know what a lucky bastard he was.

“I’m sorry he hurt ye.”

I’ve never been a possessive man. Having a younger sister around who had no qualms about taking any of my things, I realized early on to not become too attached to material possessions. But I am protective. Fiercely so. Especially of those that I care about. And while the woman standing in front of me isn’t part of my close circle, I can’t help but feel a primal need to bash in the face of any bastard who caused her pain.

I stroke my thumb across her bottom lip, knowing I’m not walking away from this. Whatever the hell this is.

“So ye don’t date celebrities,” I say. “But do ye have any qualms about being friends with them?”

“Friends?” Her eyes squint suspiciously up at me.

“I’m sure ye have them over there in the States. Ye know, the people ye occasionally hang out with. Go to the pub and have a few drinks with.”

She snorts. “I don’t go to many pubs.”

“See, now that’s something we’ll be needing to change. Are ye trying to tell me that ye’ve been in Ireland for four whole days, and ye haven’t been to a real Irish pub?”

A small smile tugs at her lips and she shakes her head.

“Then we’ll go-”

“I told you, I can’t-”

“Just friends,” I say, putting my hands up, even though I make no effort to move away from her.

“And do you have sex with your friends?”

My shoulders lift and fall, and the grin that never seems to leave my face when I’m around her tugs at my lips. “Cillian, Owen, and Aiden aren’t really my type.”

Her head tilts and she studies me. “They’re your band members?”

“And my best friends. Since before we even knew what sex was.”

“I have a feeling that was a long time ago for you.”

I wink and pull a full-dimple smile. “I was an early bloomer.”

She gives me a look that says she believes me, then shakes her head on a sigh. “I could use another friend here.”

Despite the way my cock aches to do more, I place a lazy arm over her shoulder and start to lead her towards the front door. “Then, let’s go.”

“Where?” she asks cautiously.

“Ye still owe me that date.”

“Friends, remember?” she says, her tone a warning, still eyeing me apprehensively.

I grin down at her, and agree. “Friends.” Then, I cock a brow and give her a heated look. “If ye don’t want to go out, we can always stay here.”

“No.” A hint of a smile plays on her lips, but doesn’t quite break free. “The pub is fine.”

And a hell of a lot safer if I’m going to keep my promise to keep my hands to myself.