by V. Theia
“I almost relented and came to find you, about six months later. I always knew where you were, not like your family shut up about how their Aoife made it big.” Danny said, her eyes wide, her heart thumping. God. “I think once my anger vanished I finally saw how out of character that was for you. You wouldn’t have broken us without a good reason and I never took the space to realize it at the time.”
“D-did you come to find me, Danny?”
He shook his head and her heart deflated. Just as well, really. She wouldn’t have been able to leave with him.
“I got high instead, and I didn’t emerge from that haze for a long time.”
“Was it really bad? The drugs.”
He inhaled and let it out slowly before sitting back in the chair. She was caught between his spread legs like she’d been sitting there all her life. The comfort and rightness didn’t stop even though she was broaching a subject maybe they weren’t ready for.
But with all such bad things, it was better to tear off the bandage and deal with the wound underneath so it could heal.
She drew patterns on his knees, mesmerized in how he watched her fingers.
The act felt more intimate than it actually was.
She’d always loved touching Danny.
He used to react just like a cat would.
Now she didn’t have the right to touch him, and more so because of what and who he was, but her fingers had minds of their own. So did her optimistic heart.
“It wasn’t my finest moment, I’ll say that.” He half smiled, and her belly did a series of flips and a couple of flops thrown in. To think of him alone and lost to drugs killed her even more. It was all her fault.
His smile was a weapon he didn’t know he wielded. And it found its target in the middle of her chest every single time, leaving her a little more altered and bursting with emotion.
“I have an addictive personality.” He said, covering her hand on his knee. His fingers roamed over her knuckles almost absently. “Remember how I’d go looking for fights sometimes? I didn’t know then, but I was on a kind of high. It was a rush. The same with tweaking cars and getting into all kinds of shite I had no business being in.”
“Me … was I one of your highs too, Danny?”
Holding her breath, there was a passage of time she would have known the answer to every question related to Danny. She’d known she was more than just an addiction to him; she’d felt it every moment.
They breathed for each other. Lived for each other. Existed only to love each other.
He treated her like an angel and his own treasured and adored slut. There was never a moment of their whole relationship going right back to them being toddlers that she hadn’t felt adored and protected by Danny Murphy. He’d been her first friend, first lover. First hero.
Their love morphed from lovely to obsessive to their dark, beautiful twisted version of exploring how to love with all the desire they felt for one another. He taught her how to be his whore and not ashamed of what her body felt. Never ashamed of going to him because she couldn’t keep all that desire under her skin. Only feeling human again when he’d fucked her seven ways to Sunday.
Coming from a small town, that kind of relationship was never on her radar, she didn’t know what they felt… the acts they’d shared were perfectly normal. In Danny’s arms, she was the woman she wanted to be, and he made it okay for her to love. She made it okay for him to be the sweet, gentle boy and also the dark, hungry man who loved putting her on her knees where she loved being for him.
God, her body missed him.
Her heart was bereft without his to hold her close, to keep her safe and cared for.
He smiled. Sadly.
“The biggest addiction yet. It took me a good while to crawl my way back from that.”
Aoife visibly swallowed and dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, enough of that now. No more apologizing. I make my own mistakes and I take responsibility for them. You didn’t shove coke up my nose and pills down my throat.”
“God, Danny.” She nearly sobbed and before she knew it, she’d crawled up onto his lap.
Startling them both.
She compounded that surprise by raining so many kisses over his face and neck. Not altogether in a romantic way, seeing as how she was crying her Irish heart out with great, big gusting sobs at the same time. The torrent just kept on coming. “I’m sorry,” she went on chanting.
When she buried her face in the side of his neck, sagging with emotional fatigue, she would have expected him to dump her bodily on the floor, seeing as how she’d floozy crawled all over him. But as always, she was rendered speechless when all Danny did was gather her in with both arms wrapped tightly around her. “Go ahead and cry it out, sweetheart. I’ve a feeling you haven’t done that in a long while. It’s long overdue.”
She did as he said, and she cried while he went on holding her.
“There we go,” he cooed in her ear, “let it all go, sweetheart.”
She cried so much that she soaked the front of his shirt into a soggy mess.
“Feeling better?” He asked minutes later, his fingers drifted around the nape of her neck giving her shivers and goosebumps all over her flesh.
Did he have a clue what that kind of possessive touch did to her?
Embarrassment stained her face as she pulled back a little and looked at him. There was no judgment on his face. But then, there wouldn’t be. He was Danny. The most selfless man on earth.
“I cried all over you.”
“It was needed.”
“Are you okay now…with the drugs?”
“I’m an addict, but I’ve been clean and sober for five years.”
She felt relief.
He hadn’t dumped her off his lap yet, in fact his hand spanned her outer thigh. But any minute now he could tell her to move, so she luxuriated in the feel of him under her.
“Does it make any difference now you know, Danny? To us, I mean.” When he didn’t speak, only gave her a under the eyelashes look in such a sad way that hurt her belly. “I know I’ve brought all kinds of shite here to you, when you don’t need it.”
“I said I’d help.”
“But I came for more than that. You were the only one I thought of. The only person in the world I trust.” She went to touch his jaw and he caught at her fingers, keeping them locked in his. “Please tell me I can fix us, Danny. You should know I want you. I want us back to what we were.” She shuddered against him because for years she’d been patient knowing one day she would try to make it all better. If given the chance she would tell Danny everything and make it right.
The way he was staring at her unblinking, with a sort of sorrow in his eyes, wasn’t giving her the courage and confidence to assume he was open to the idea.
Was she far too late?
There was no other woman in his life as far as she knew, but now she realized it didn’t mean he wanted her back.
Maybe all his feelings died along with the love he once felt for her.
She swallowed back a sob trapped in her throat.
“It’s impossible to pick up where we left off.”
“Then don’t.” She rushed, pleading in her voice box. “Let’s start right here. Right now is a great place, Danny. You’re here, I’m here, that’s all we need.”
Leaning in he allowed the kisses she pressed to his cheeks, but it was when their lips met she heard him inhale swiftly and he took hold of her shoulders to hold her away.
Fire burning in the depths of blue.
Oh, that look. Dear lord. It set her ablaze with need and longing for her lost love.
She had to believe she still had a chance with him, or she’d lose all hope for anything else in her life.
She wasn’t a woman who was so easily downtrodden by life. For years she’d gotten along with the hand dealt to her while, aiming towards something better, but that was because she’d held on tight to the hope she might have this mom
ent with him again.
She’d never found love again.
Hadn’t even looked for it.
Because for Aoife Flanagan, Danny Murphy was it.
He was made for her. She was born for him.
“Please, Danny. Say I’m not too late. Please let me make it right.” Her voice cracked with emotion, enough to bring tears to her eyes, she wasn’t about emotional blackmail, but she damn well would cry rivers if it swayed him even a little. She tried kissing him desperately again, only his fingers tightened on her shoulders, his lips not reacting.
A delicious grip she moaned for and she watched his nostrils flare before he growled through his clenched teeth.
“Aoife.” So much in her name.
So much held in that one word that if she were not already on his lap, her knees would have given out.
His fingers didn’t unclench from her shoulders and it was the unlocking of them both.
There was no time to think and question or doubt.
Not when Danny’s mouth came crashing down on hers.
The kiss was instant. Warm lips clashing.
It was vibrant desperation soaked in greed as she tipped her head back as far as she could, to give him greater access as his mouth consumed her.
His lips soothed and collided like old lovers and new friends who knew how to indulge in sin.
Every avenue of Aoife’s heart started to thud and then it pounded and then it was making so much noise it was all she could hear.
Moaning, she concentrated only on the feel of his capable tongue tangling with hers and the cup of his strong palm on the side of her face. He overwhelmed her in an instant—his warmth, the honest marvel in his groan as if he couldn’t believe how good their kiss felt either, or the way she reacted to him all accumulated in her clawing to get even closer to him.
Danny held the side of her head, governing how deep he went, how slow and frantic their mouths moved. He was feral with every grunt. This dexterous side to him had always driven her completely mad with need. Sometimes he did it on purpose, just kiss her for hours and tell her to be patient.
Right now, she’d kiss him for days and not complain once, because it was heavenly.
Heat flamed her cheeks and she had to force herself to not wantonly rub against him, though it was more than evident how hard his body reacted to their wet, fused kisses.
She was titan tall with her head in the clouds because he was turned on.
“Danny, please. I need you.” She moaned into his lips that were prying hers wider, and her heart answered his unspoken demand with heavy thumps.
“You’re worse than any drug,” he breathed in hot puffs on her mouth, taking small nips and licks. His eyes so dark and wild she nearly came.
Aoife wouldn’t allow guilt to fester in her brain.
Not when his kiss felt like he’d given her the world.
Right when she would have pressed their mouths together again and strung her fingers into his soft locks, there was a yowl from upstairs and then another, louder this time as Misha told them that she was awake and not happy at all by the lack of attention she was receiving.
Danny sighed into her lips. He recovered first by pulling his head away.
Aoife was less steady. Her body had been ready to be taken and she found it hard to redirect her thoughts to anything other than how good he felt with his hands all over her.
“Saved by the bell,” she joked without humor and slid off his lap. “Can we…”
“Go check on Misha and get some rest, Aoife. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Deflated, he’d already brought down the shutters over his eyes masking what he was really feeling, even if the sight of his aroused body contradicted his denial.
For those few short, delicious minutes, her Danny Murphy reacted to her just like he once had. With abandoned lust and want.
Taking the stairs, she knew one thing.
Hope was there now.
And she’d work her behind off to get him to realize their kind of love wasn’t lost, just dormant and she was ready to wake it up.
TEN
“Blue balls shouldn’t even be in my vocabulary.” – Danny
Over the next few days it was as though Aoife waged a silent war against him to be wherever he turned. Fluttering her lashes and making sure to touch him.
Driving him utterly out of his brain with crazy want.
Every night she waited up for him, met him with a cup of tea and talked about his day and shared about hers, usually about what she’d cooked or watched on TV. She was a fan of American reality shows.
As improper and sordid as it sounded, Danny and her, were always made to fuck. It was forged in their DNA, like someone had cut their souls with the same knife, on the very same day, because her jagged, lonely parts fit his exactly, until it was a rightness in his chest.
And though he’d loathed that fact sometimes, there was no getting away from the reality of her siren hips as she swayed them to the music pumping through the radio.
He watched like his eyes were magnetized to her behind.
Mouth dry.
Forehead sprouting sweat.
And his groin so full and heavy he was sure he couldn't walk a step.
Good God, she was utterly stunning.
She stole his breath another life ago, and he wondered if there would come a day when he asked for it back.
Today wasn’t that day.
Tomorrow wasn’t looking favorable either.
“I really love this jumper you got me,” she announced with her effortless smile on offer and her eyes dancing over his body in her not-so-sly way, that had Danny hard as a rock inside his jeans.
He cast a longer glance because like a man-fool he couldn’t help himself and saw she wore the pink wool sweater with the fine hair. It made her look like a frizzy sheep. Especially with her tangle of flame-red locks hanging loosely around her shoulders.
He grinned and lowered his head down over his task of making some toast triangles for Misha.
How domesticated they’d become in just a few short days.
Cora wasn’t best pleased with Aoife who had all but taken over the cooking and cleaning, though he maintained she didn’t have to do anything. Everything was done when his housekeeper arrived of a morning, then he had to smooth out Cora’s ruffled feathers.
Between his pouting housekeeper and his stubborn guest, who told him in no uncertain terms that she was pulling her weight, Danny felt like he was trapped between a rock and a tenacious, all-female, hard place.
Like any smart man, he let the women deal with it among themselves to come to a reasonable accord. Between the pair of them he was being fed like a royal.
But it wasn’t that kind of hunger that clawed at his gut day and night.
Danny liked to think himself a good, faithful man nowadays.
Long gone were the times he was impulsive, spontaneous—even reckless with both his own safety and the law. His only stability back then was Aoife and once that was gone, he became wild.
Never once had he wanted to stray from their connection, though back then, Danny was offered more times than he confessed to her, only because it turned her animalistic and there was only so many times he could stand the skin clawed from his bones in a heated night. Little brat that she’d been in their sexual awakening, possessed him inside and out and had no need to ever be jealous. He saw no one but her.
A jealous Aoife was a wild one.
He wondered how feral she’d become if he confessed the times the women of Armado Springs hit on him. In church of all places.
The dark place inside him that was only hers, howled with longing to be free to test it out.
That being said, he was making a fucking liar of his new morals by wanting her all day and night long.
His late-night shower fantasies have grown obscene, that’s for fucking sure.
His right wrist was sore.
“What’s your plans for tomorrow?”
/> “I thought I’d go shopping and then to see a movie and then maybe I’d take a wee stroll through the park,” she answered with her tongue poking out her cheek.
He turned a pithy glance her way and she huffed in response.
“I’ll be here as usual. What’s your plans, besides avoiding me?”
“I thought I’d go on a date.”
She wasn’t the only one in his house who could be funny.
With his back to her he still caught her dragon huff and he smiled to himself. Pleased.
He liked her jealous. He shouldn’t, but there it was beating a pulse in his belly.
“Don’t you dare, Daniel Murphy! Not when I’ve shown you my intentions. I will be ripping your hair out if you do. See how she likes you bald.”
“I think she’ll cope,” He went on flippantly, holding back his grin when he took a seat and lifted Misha out of the carry seat. She attacked the bottle with gusto just like her mama did with a pepperoni pizza.
Moving like an apparition she was hovering over his shoulder in seconds.
A red headed demon with eyes of emeralds and threats, he had to bite back his grin.
Her heat and scent assaulted his nose and it took the reincarnated strength of Samson himself for Danny not to push his head into the side of her neck and inhale like a junkie.
He wasn’t telling lies when he’d told her she was worse than drugs.
If he allowed himself, he could easily lose all sense of decency and fall into her sweetness all over again. He’d all but forgotten the reason that had brought her here—the danger included, and they’d fallen into a weird little domestic dynamic that both pleased and horrified him.
He couldn’t hold onto his anger for what happened between them. It was redundant. Going through the twelve steps meant he’d cast aside any emotion that didn’t bring positivity to his life. And now he had the full picture of what happened back then, he understood she’d been in a difficult situation.
Did he want to go back in time and do damage to her shit of a father? Always.
He would always wonder how he would have handled the situation had Aoife brought it to him. Holding it against her wasn’t in him.