Kiss Me, I'm Irish

by Roxanne St Claire

  Reaching down, she cupped the back of his head and held him to her. Her fingers pushed through his silky black hair and she groaned as he nibbled at her. “Connor, I feel—I need—”

  He growled.

  No other word for it.

  He seemed to know exactly what she needed. He growled against her body, lifted her hips in his strong hands, and as she dangled helplessly above the bed, he pushed her over the edge into a chasm so full of sparkling lights and colors, it nearly blinded her.

  “Connor!” She shouted his name, heard the wildness in her own voice and reveled in it as she rode a climax unlike anything she’d ever known before.

  As the last tremor rocked her body, he left her, and she wanted to weep for the loss. Her eyes closed to better savor the incredible wash of satisfaction sliding through her, she heard foil tearing and then he was there, somehow already gloriously naked, over her, filling her.

  She arched her hips and took him inside. His body pushed into hers and the moment she felt his length within, she came again, trembling anew, riding fresh waves of pleasure that tore at her and left her gasping for air.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a hush of sound in her ear. “So damn beautiful.”

  She felt beautiful. Emma grabbed him, holding him, her arms wrapped around him, her hands splayed against his back, pulling him tighter, closer. She lifted her legs and hooked them around his waist, tilting her hips to take him even deeper.

  He groaned as his hips rocked against hers in an age-old rhythm that sent flutters of brand-new need pulsing at the core of her. She met him, stroke for stroke, and enjoyed the feel of his body covering hers. The solid, heavy weight of him, pushing her down into the mattress. The ripple of muscles straining across his back.

  Again and again he withdrew, then pushed himself home. Sweet friction escalated inside her, and Emma ran with it, eager to reach that peak one more time. The heady sound of flesh on flesh filled the room and became an intimate symphony.

  He lifted his head to look down at her, and she gasped at the hunger glittering in his eyes. He looked like a warrior. Like the caveman he had pretended to be. He was intent. On her. On the breathless craving that had them both wrapped in a tight fist.

  In the moonlight his broad, tanned chest looked delectable. She swept her hands around from his back and caressed his skin with her fingertips. At his flat nipples, she flicked the pebbled surface with her nails and watched as his eyes narrowed and his mouth flattened into a harsh line.

  He grabbed her right hand, linked his fingers with hers and braced them both on the mattress. Staring down at her, he muttered thickly, “Come again, Em. Come with me this time.”

  As if his words alone had been enough to ignite new flames, her body erupted, and bubbles of expectancy churned inside her. She moved with him again, feeling every sweep of his body against the so-tender flesh at the heart of her.

  Again and again he staked his claim on her. Then he dipped his head and took her mouth with his. His tongue swept aside her defenses and claimed all that she was. His breath mingled with hers until she didn’t know where she began and he ended and didn’t care, either.

  She tasted his need.

  She shared his greed.

  And this time when the world around them tottered and fell, they were together as they took the leap and together still when they fell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CONNOR’S WEIGHT PRESSED Emma into the mattress, making each breath an adventure. But she didn’t mind. In fact, she loved the feel of him lying atop her.

  She loved the hum still vibrating inside her body. She loved how he made her feel when he touched her. She loved touching him and seeing his response flicker in his eyes.

  And she was using the word love way too many times.

  She put a mental stop to that real fast. Opening her eyes, Emma stared blindly up at the ceiling and tried to get a grip on the emotions churning through her. But it wasn’t easy. Connor’s breath labored in her ear and his heartbeat raced in tandem with her own. And she wondered if his stomach was suddenly doing a weird little pitch and roll.

  Probably not.

  Guys didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the repercussions of sex. Guys only thought about getting sex, and then once they’d had it, they worried about getting it again. Life was simpler for the Y chromosome set.

  But as far as Emma was concerned, things had just gotten really complicated.

  “I’m smashing you.”

  “Only a little.” Stupid. She shouldn’t have said that. Should have said, Yes, you are. Move over. But she hadn’t wanted him to move and what did that say? Oh, God, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that said.

  Instantly the memory of Father Liam’s warning came crashing back at her, echoing over and over again in her mind. Something about “being careful because sometimes even the best-laid traps snapped shut on the wrong target.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and deliberately shut down the memory. Her trap had worked fine. Just as she’d planned. She’d gotten him into bed, hadn’t she? She’d proven to Connor that she was as female as the next woman and she’d made sure he’d lost that stupid bet with his brothers.

  No problem.

  She squelched a groan. So if everything was so great, why wasn’t she celebrating?

  Connor lifted his head and, poised above her, he blocked her view of the ceiling and forced her to meet his gaze. She stared up at him and her heart gave a slow jolt that shuddered through her body like ripples on the surface of a pond.

  Oh, boy.

  “Damn, Emma…” His voice trailed off as he brushed a stray lock of blond hair off her forehead.

  His features were stamped with an expression of stunned surprise, and Emma wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted. And did it really matter?

  “That was—” he stopped and grinned “—amazing.”

  Oh, yeah, it had been, she thought, feeling the power of his smile slam into her. Amazing, earth-shattering, completely befuddling. Emma squelched a groan that was building deep inside her. She didn’t want to put hearts and flowers on this night. That wasn’t what this had been about.

  She wasn’t in love with Connor Reilly.

  Didn’t want to be in love with him.

  That wasn’t in the plan.

  She’d set out to make him lose that bet for being so damn insulting, and she’d succeeded. That’s all she had to remember here. That her scheme had worked. She’d brought him to his knees—figuratively speaking—and okay, she thought as she remembered him kneeling between her thighs, literally, too. But that was it. It was over.

  And she’d be doing herself a huge favor to keep that in mind.

  In an attempt to do just that, she forced a smile she didn’t really feel and gave his back a friendly slap. “So, guess I’m not just ‘one of the guys’ after all, am I?”

  He frowned down at her and levered himself up onto his elbows, taking most of his weight off her. Emma would rather have curled up and died than admit she missed the feel of his body pressed onto hers.

  “One of the guys?” he echoed.

  “You remember,” she prodded, reminding herself as well as him. “A week or so ago we were talking about the bet and you said I was ‘safe to hang out with’?”

  “I did?” The frown on his face deepened and he shifted position slightly.

  Emma swallowed another groan that erupted when his body, still locked within hers, stirred into life again.

  Keep your mind on the conversation at hand, she warned herself. Keep remembering that, until about twenty minutes ago he hadn’t really considered you a woman. “Yeah. You did.”

  He moved one hand to fiddle with the rubber band at the end of her braid. But she refused to be distracted.

  “And,” Emma said, her breath hitching as his hips rocked against her, “you actually said, ‘you’re not a woman, Em…you’re a mechanic.’”

  “Huh.”

  She reminded
him of the most humiliating moment of her life and all he had to say was “huh?”

  His fingers undid her long, blond braid, and a part of her brain focused on the soft tug as he freed her hair. But mostly she kept reminding herself that she’d won a victory here. A victory for every woman—heck, every girl—who was just a little bit different from the rest of the crowd.

  “Don’t you remember?” she demanded.

  “Not really.”

  “But you said it,” Emma insisted, determined now to ignore the stirring of her body as he shifted position over her again.

  “If you say so.”

  “If I say so?” She blinked up at him and paid no attention when he pulled her now-loosened hair across her shoulders and dipped his head to bury his face in the thick mass. “Seriously, you don’t remember saying that?”

  “Vaguely,” he said, and moved again, this time trailing warm, damp kisses along the line of her throat.

  “Vaguely?”

  “Do you really want to talk right now?” he mumbled, his words muffled against her neck.

  No, she didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything except revel in the soft slide of his tongue along the length of her throat. She arched into him, despite her best efforts, and tilted her head to one side, giving him easier access. He smiled against her skin.

  A sigh of a breeze drifted through the partially opened window and carried the scent of summer roses with it. The night was soft, quiet, as if she and Connor were the only two people in the world. It was as if they were wrapped together in a cocoon of sensation.

  He was distracting her.

  And doing a damn fine job of it, too. But they were getting off subject. She was trying to tell him that she’d tricked him into losing his precious bet, and he was too busy stirring her body up again to listen.

  Determined now, Emma put both hands on his shoulders and shoved. He lifted his head and looked down at her, one corner of his mouth tugging into a half smile that did some incredible things to her insides. But Emma fought that reaction down and met his gaze steadily.

  “What’s wrong now?” he asked, and his deep voice rolled through the room like summer thunder.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said tightly. “It’s just—” How was she supposed to have a conversation with a man whose body was even now swelling to fill hers again? Concentrate, she thought. It was the only way. “Connor, I’m trying to tell you that I got you into bed deliberately. I tricked you.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled again and gave her a wink. “Then, thanks.” Dipping his head, he took one of her nipples into his mouth and suckled it briefly.

  She hissed in a breath as white-hot sensation shot through her bloodstream like skyrockets. Her vision blurred, her breath went soft and hazy, and she had to fight to come up for air again. When she did, she gave his broad, muscled shoulders another shove for good measure. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I’d rather kiss you,” he admitted as he reluctantly lifted his head to stare down at her. “I’d rather taste you again. Why the sudden need for chitchat?”

  His eyes seemed to glisten with a new urgency. And as he spoke, Emma felt her own heartbeat quicken in anticipation. But before they indulged themselves again, there were a few things that had to be said.

  “Don’t you get it, Connor?” she said, capturing his face between her palms. “I deliberately trapped you. Set you up, then knocked you down.”

  A short, sharp laugh shot from his throat. “Am I supposed to be sorry?”

  “You lost the bet,” she reminded him.

  He frowned. “Oh, yeah…”

  “I wanted you to lose the bet.”

  “Why?”

  “To teach you a lesson,” she said, and slid her hands from his cheeks, to his neck, to his shoulders, skimming over the hard, warm muscles and loving the feel of his skin beneath her palms. “To show you that just because I’m a mechanic doesn’t make me less of a female.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly, a deep throated chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Well, you sure as hell proved your point, Em. I’m convinced,” he said, still smiling as he dipped his head for a quick, hard kiss.

  “Aren’t you mad?”

  “Should I be?” In one smooth move, he flipped onto his back, bringing her with him as he rolled over the mattress.

  “You lost the bet.”

  “Seems like.”

  “I tricked you.”

  “Did an excellent job of it, too.”

  Straddling him now, Emma felt the thick, solid length of him pulsing within her. Unconsciously she rocked her hips and smiled when he hissed in air through clenched teeth. Watching him, she looked for signs of anger in his expression, but there was nothing there. He wasn’t angry about losing the bet. Wasn’t mad about being tricked.

  What he was, was insatiable.

  Thank heaven.

  “But the money, Connor,” she persisted. “It was down to just you and Aidan.”

  He reached up and covered her breasts with his hands, squeezing, rubbing, tweaking at her sensitized nipples until Emma moaned and let her head fall back.

  “You think I give a damn about the bet now?”

  Breathing hard, she lifted her head again and looked at him. “You don’t?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “I never would’ve made it, Em.” He grinned. “Not hanging around you, anyway. And hell, it’s hard to mind losing a bet when losing’s this much fun.”

  She shrugged, and her hair slid over her skin like golden silk. “There is that.”

  He lifted his hips and Emma gasped as she rose up high, like a bronc rider astride a wild mustang. Except this felt much better. Her brain went on automatic pilot, and every inch of her body was already alert and screaming for attention.

  Still, though, she couldn’t leave things as they were. She had to know one more thing.

  “Connor, where do we go from here?”

  He stopped moving beneath her and locked his gaze with hers. His hands dropped to her hips and held her tightly, every finger pressing into her skin as if somehow branding her—however temporarily.

  “Why do we have to go anywhere?” His voice was low, soft and she had to strain to hear him over the thundering crash of her own heartbeat. “Why does this have to be more than one night of amazing sex?”

  If there was a part of her that was disappointed in his reaction, she buried it. After all, she hadn’t been looking for a commitment. She hadn’t been looking for love. She’d already tried love once and that had turned into a disaster of near epic proportions.

  She’d never planned on having more than this one night with him. Her imagination hadn’t taken her quite so far as that.

  So Emma told herself to be grateful that Connor was who he was. A friend. A friend who happened to have the ability to turn her blood into steam…but a friend, first and foremost.

  “It doesn’t,” she said, and deliberately twisted her hips, grinding her center against him, taking his body deeper, higher within her own. Her whole system shivered and she shook with the force of it. When she could speak again, she said, “One night, right? We have this one night and then go back to the way we were?”

  He sucked in a gulp of air, his eyes fired in the shadows and then he nodded. “We stay friends.”

  “Friends,” she agreed, and went up on her knees, feeling his body slide free of hers before she sank on him again, enjoying the rich feel of his hard length invading her heat.

  Connor watched her as she moved over him and lost himself in the glory of the moment. How the hell could he think about where they went from here? How could he possibly worry about losing that stupid bet when Emma was riding him in slow, sensuous movements?

  Her hair, loose and free, streamed over her shoulders and across her breasts, her rigid nipples peeking through the golden strands to tempt him. She was more beautiful than he could have imagined. She was more everything than he had ever guessed.
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  Her body was hot and tight, surrounding his with a velvety grip that drove him to the edge of oblivion with every move she made. He bit back a groan and choked off the urge to surrender to the climax crashing within. He wanted this to last. Wanted to stretch out their time together, to make the most of every second he spent here in her room.

  Tomorrow he’d confess to his brothers that he’d lost the bet. Tomorrow things would go back to the way they’d always been between him and Emma. They’d be friends, because her friendship was something he didn’t want to lose. But tonight they were different. Tonight they were lovers, and he for damn sure meant to enjoy every minute of it.

  She arched her back and moaned, a soft sigh of sound that shook him down to his bones. He tightened his grip on her hips and increased the rhythm sparking between them. Over and over again, she pulled free of his body only to capture him again with a nearly hypnotic effect.

  Moonlight danced on her naked flesh and she let her head fall back again as she rode him. He felt his own release building and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. His breath staggered from heaving lungs. His brain was short-circuiting. His body felt electrified—surging with a power he’d never known before.

  And Connor knew he wanted to take Emma with him when his body exploded. Dropping one hand to the spot where their bodies joined, he stroked her damp heat. Rubbed the one spot on her body that he knew would send her tumbling wildly over the edge.

  “Connor…” She said his name on a throaty groan of need and passion.

  He continued to stroke her, watching as her features shifted with the churning emotions slashing at her. She moved faster, rocking her hips with him in a timeless rhythm that swept both of them up in a frantic rush toward completion.

  And when her body splintered, he caught her and held on as he let himself follow after.

  “I’M OUT.” Connor slid onto the bench seat at the Lighthouse Diner and shrugged when all three of his brothers just stared at him.