Taming Irish Page 8

“Don’t be sorry. Just make sure ye know what ye want.”

  I want you, every cell in my body screams.

  He sighs again, this time motioning me to follow him outside, but not before tucking the mason jar under his arm, along with the two tin cups.

  “Do you own this place?” I ask when we reach the muddy shore where a rowboat is tied up.

  “It was my grandfather’s, then my dad’s. It’s still in my mom’s name, but I’m the only one who ever comes down here. Emer isn’t really one for fishing.”

  “You’re taking me fishing?”

  “Never caught a fish with whisky before.” He lifts the jar up and winks, before placing it and the cups in the boat, then reaches out for my hand.

  I let him help me into the boat. “Again, not exactly what I would have expected from you.”

  “Ye said ye didn’t want any media attention.” He watches me from the corner of his eye as he unties the boat, then pushes off with an oar. The muscles of his shoulders and biceps bunch and strain under his t-shirt as he rows out into the middle of the lake. “Ye won’t get any out here. But I couldn’t guarantee that if I’d taken ye into town.”

  The man is full of surprises. And my heart does a little flip in my chest. “Thank you.”

  “Plus, this just happens to be one of my favorite places in the world.” In the middle of the lake, he locks the oars, then picks up the mason jar and hands me a cup. After pouring whisky into both tin cups, he winks at me. “And today, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather share it with.”

  I drain my cup quickly.

  Something in my chest warms at his words. Or, maybe it’s the alcohol, because at the same time, it squeezes in warning.

  He’s a player, and he’s playing you.

  I know it’s the truth. But as I let him pour me another shot, letting it burn down my throat and heating every inch of my body, I want him to play me. To play every inch of my body, no matter how much I may regret it tomorrow.

  Chapter 10

  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.

  Chapter 11

  Makena

  Heat blisters through me as Shane’s mouth takes mine. It’s nothing like the earlier kiss. This one is even more wild, more crazed, and I feel myself unravelling, my inhibitions falling off me like shackles that have kept me weighted down.

  His hands, big and rough, push the blanket off my shoulders, unhooking my bra before pulling me against his chest. Despite the chill in the cabin, his skin is hot against mine, and I let out a small moan as my nipples brush against his warmth.

  I feel him smile against my mouth, slowing his kiss. His tongue does a small sweep across my bottom lip, before he pulls back slightly.

  “God, ye’re gorgeous,” he says, his gaze roaming down my body, one hand unfastening the button of my jeans, then lowering his mouth to one breast. He takes my nipple between his lips and sucks it, twirling his tongue around the bud.

  Goosebumps assault my skin, making me shiver.

  It feels good. Better than good. Being with him feels…right.

  I’ve always been insecure about my body, but under Shane’s gaze I feel beautiful, and I do nothing to hide myself from him.

  His mouth switches to my other breast, giving it a quick, hard suck, before lowering himself, kneeling in front of me and starting an assault of kisses on my stomach as he starts rolling my pants over my hips, then down my thighs. He takes his time, glancing up at me with a grin that leaves my knees wobbly as he places my hands on his shoulders, then lifts one leg to remove my jeans, then the other.

  I’m standing in front of him in just my thong.

  “Jeezus, Makena.” He breathes out harshly, palms cupping my ass as he stares up at me like I’m some type of goddess. “Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  I know it’s not the truth, but right now, I want to believe it. Want to be worshipped and possessed by this man who is supposed to be nothing, and yet somehow in this moment, is everything to me.

  A turning point. That’s what this is. An awakening. And I know after today, I’ll never be the same.

  I keep my hands on his shoulders as his mouth returns to my stomach. When one large palm sweeps between my thighs, the ache that starts is so intense, a small whimper leaves my lips.

  “Are ye already wet for m
e, love?” He murmurs against my skin as his head lowers. Pushing my thighs open with one hand, so that his face is between my legs, he blows a warm breath against my already damp panties, before dragging his teeth across the material, then giving my clit a tiny nip.

  My God.

  I arch towards him, needing friction.

  He chuckles against me, the vibration almost making me come, then slides a finger under the material, pushing it aside.

  My entire body is trembling with need.

  His tongue dances across my seam, and I suck in a breath at the feeling of his mouth on me. His movements are unhurried, but the intensity is tangible.

  “Shane,” I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair as an orgasm rocks through my body, making my knees give out.

  “I’ve got ye, love,” he murmurs, and the next thing I know, I’m against his hard chest and he’s carrying me.

  My arms wrap around his neck as he lays me gently on the bed. It creaks with our weight as he positions himself above me, edging my thighs open with his knee.

  Shamelessly, I lock my legs around his waist, rubbing against him, kissing him like he’s oxygen and I’ve been void of air for far too long.

  Desperate.

  Frantic.

  Like if I don’t hold on, this moment will slip away. He’ll slip away. Which I know is exactly what he’ll do once this is over.

  But right now, I don’t care.

  He lifts himself off me, and I whimper at the loss of his weight. I watch as he crosses the small room. Rain pelts hard against the windows, the sky a dark gray, and the fire in the hearth casts an orange glow across the room.

  Shane shuffles through a drawer before pulling out a box of condoms.

  For a fleeting moment, insecurities rush through me, and I wonder how many other women he’s had here, knowing I’ll just be another notch in his bedpost. But when he turns back to me, the look in his eyes washes away all trepidation.

  I’m his. Right now, in this moment. That’s all that matters.

  Standing by the edge of the bed, he slowly unbuckles his belt, his gaze never lifting from mine. His usual cocky grin is replaced by a look that’s almost feral.