Kiss of the Irish (Foreign Fling)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  It was her.

  Thankfully, she was carrying an umbrella this time—but Cian concentrated less on what she had and more on the way the long-sleeved cotton dress she wore hugged her curves. He wondered if she was wearing another cotton lingerie set underneath it—or perhaps even nothing at all. Of course, that thought led to all the blood in his body slamming downward, and it took everything he had to avoid an erection.

  He had to get to her. Now.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Nell.” The mischievous blonde merely winked at him as he took his leave of her and came out from behind the bar to greet Sarah. He watched her like a hawk, taking in the way her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen. She must be hungry. “Long time no see, stranger.”

  Sarah smiled, the curve of her lips still a bit shy, but this time she met his stare head-on. This was an improvement—she was feeling more comfortable.

  “Come for supper, have you? Tommy’s steaks are spot-on.”

  Her full lips quirked upward in amusement. “Why is everyone here always trying to feed me? I’m not half as skinny as you think, I swear.”

  That was true. She wasn’t nearly skinny enough for him not to notice the enticing swell of her breasts or her decadent looking derriere. In fact, he remembered curling his fingers into said derriere when he’d kissed her breathless, the memory nearly as hot as the touch had been.

  Bloody hell, how could she affect him so when she’d hardly spoken a word?

  “You just look as if you’re searching for a bite to eat. I know food is the first thing I think about when I smell Tommy’s cooking.”

  “That stew was amazing.” There she went. The moment he started to talk about something to which she could relate, she started to open up—and when that happened, she drew him in effortlessly. “Where on earth did he learn to cook like that?”

  “His mother, God rest her soul, and her mother before her. Cooking runs in the family for Tom.” Her eyes gleamed in interest at the tidbit of information he revealed, and Cian swallowed thickly, reminding himself to exercise restraint. “Is it the stew you’ll be after then?” He raised a hand to gesture to Ainsley, as she was currently in charge of the dining room, only to have Sarah interrupt him.

  “Um, no! Sorry, I…” He lowered his hand to look back at her, arching a brow in inquiry. “I’m not really all that hungry.”

  Innocently, she twisted slender fingers before her as she fidgeted, clearly unsure of how to proceed. For a long moment, Cian just stared at her, unable to do much else as his mind ran wild. He’d like nothing more than to spirit her away back to his flat and have his way with her just now—show her how much he could reward her for giving over to him.

  When his eye finally caught hers, he understood. Her gaze was hungry, and something tightened low in his gut as he acknowledged what she was asking without words.

  “You aren’t hungry for food.” His voice was low, covered by the music and revelry of the pub, but more than loud enough for her to hear. Sarah’s gaze rose to his, and she shifted, pressing her thighs against one another alluringly.

  “I…” She trailed off, obviously struggling. “I’m not sure I…”

  “You want me to take the lead?” He cut her off gently, his tone warm and sensual. “All you have to do is say the word and I’m yours, Sarah.”

  The spark in her eyes kindled immediately into a full-blown flame, and it took everything Cian had not to deposit her on the nearest table and have her in view of God and every customer present. That, he couldn’t do. But before he could do anything, he needed her to say the words. It had to be her decision.

  “Yes.” His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a split second, Cian thought he might have misheard her. But the certainty in her eyes was unmistakable, and when he didn’t react immediately, Sarah repeated her affirmation. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  He was the luckiest man alive.

  Before she could change her mind, Cian reached out to take her hand, quickly leading her back toward the area behind the bar. He didn’t bother to catch Nell’s eye. With a little maneuvering, he led Sarah down the wide hall that led to the kitchen.

  In a trice, they found themselves in his office with the door locked soundly behind them. Cian could barely believe that only minutes before, he’d found the space stuffy and uncompromising. Now, it seemed like the ideal getaway.

  And he finally had Sarah all to himself.

  “Come here.” He had never let go of her hand, and now he used it to draw her close to him. The moment she was pressed against his chest, he could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, and he swore to himself that soon she would forget she had ever been anxious.

  He’d planned to hold back when he finally had her in his arms again, but she took the lead, placing her hands on his chest and using them as leverage to rise up on her toes. He opened his mouth to speak, but then her lips were on his, urgency in her kiss.

  He squeezed her full hips before moving them back to stroke over her ass. She moaned into his mouth, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue past her teeth, stroking her the way he wanted to do with his cock.

  When she pressed even closer against him, the steel length of his erection nudged at the softness of her stomach, the friction causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

  Cupping her weight in his hands, he lifted, growling with approval when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  He carried her the few steps to his couch. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his chest as he slid her back down his body, her knees hitting the back of the couch.

  Slow down. He didn’t want to scare her off, but fuck, with her warmth beneath his hands and her taste on his tongue he was having a hard time keeping his own need in check. When her fingers fisted in the hem of her shirt then pulled it up and away, his mouth went dry and his fingers dug into her waist.

  “Sarah.” If she kept moving like this, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back. “I—”

  He couldn’t get the words out, choking on his own need as her hands streaked over him, greedy and devouring. Her fascination with his nipple piercings was evident in the way she returned to that area over and over, the small tugs of metal in his flesh driving him wild.

  Breathy pants accompanied her constant touch. He thought at first that they were entirely from her arousal, but soon he recognized them as sighs of frustration.

  “What is it, darlin’?” Catching her by the wrists, he stilled those busy hands, forcing her to look up at him.

  Her eyes were wide, her skin flushed enticingly all the way from her cheeks to the tops of her breasts, which were displayed simply in white cotton again. She tugged against his wrists, but he held tight.

  “I don’t… I want to…” When she huffed out a breath so hard that it sent strands of her golden hair dancing, the light went on for him.

  She wasn’t the kind of person who went around having flings. She’d told him this. The woman, who always liked to have things in place, in order, didn’t know what to do.

  Well, he knew just how to take care of that.

  “Shh.” Letting go of her wrists, he traced around her waist from the curve of her spine to the indent of her belly. Her stomach quivered as his fingers dipped beneath the front of her jeans.

  “I want you to take a deep breath, then I want you to clear everything from your mind except for what I’m saying to you.”

  She hissed out a breath then nodded. His fingers found the button at the top of her jeans, and a startled gasp escaped from her lips.

  “I’m going to take your jeans off.” He moved slowly, gave her plenty of time to change her mind, but she made no protest as he slid the zipper down, the metal teeth rasping in the still air of the tiny room.

  He slid his hands between the rough denim and her soft, soft skin, tracing circles over the tight silk of her outer hips. As he did, the jeans inched their way down, down, until they fell, pooling at her ankles.
>
  Nudging her so that the couch behind her knees forced her to sit, he knelt in front of her. Taking her right foot in hand, he removed the slip-on shoe, the sock, and then worked the snug denim down and off, repeating the process on the other foot.

  The whole time, she watched him through wide eyes, her breath coming faster and faster, the deep inhalations making her breasts jiggle enticingly. When he’d worked her jeans all the way off, he tossed them to the side then slowly, firmly, ran his thumbs up the inside of her legs, from her ankles to where the thin cotton of her panties met her thighs.

  “Oh!” The word was half a gasp as he traced over that stripe, situating himself between her legs. Reflexively she tried to close them, but his broad shoulders blocked her. “No… I mean…you don’t have to do that!”

  He stilled—he didn’t need to be told “no” twice—but kept his hands where they were. Her words were saying one thing, but the arch of her back and the restless shifting of her body another.

  “If you say no, I won’t.” He dragged his stare up from the heaven in front of him to meet her eyes, which were wide open and half-blind with need. “But I assure you that there’s nothing more that I want right now.”

  She paused, chest heaving, and he could see her mind whirling. It would have been cute if his cock weren’t pressing so hard against his jeans that he thought he might explode.

  “All right.” Finally, she swallowed, and when she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. “Do it.”

  He didn’t wait to be asked twice. Instead, he braced his weight on the hands spread on her thighs, pressing his face against her mound.

  “Ohmigod!” Her voice echoed off the walls in the tiny room when he placed his entire mouth over the damp cotton between her legs. He paused like that, savoring the trembling of her legs around his ears, as he did nothing more than warm her skin with one open-mouthed kiss to her lower lips.

  He knew she was ready when she started to arch her hips against him. He was pretty sure she didn’t even know that she was doing it, but her body was announcing that she liked this—liked it and wanted more.

  He hooked one finger in the cotton still covering her and tugged it to the side. Using his other hand, he traced her lips with the tip of one finger, grinning to himself when she nearly arched off the sofa.

  There’s more where that came from, darlin’.

  Dipping his head again, he let his mouth trace the line his finger had drawn. She whimpered. Then he did what he’d been dying to do since he’d tugged her jeans off, and took his first taste.

  She clapped one hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. The other found its way to his hair, grabbing a handful and tugging. The sting sparked his own arousal, and he bent to his task, stroking the flat of his tongue up and down through her slit, pausing to flick over her clit randomly, making her hips jerk.

  Her cries quickly turned to incoherent sounds, and Cian quickened his movements. His own cock rubbed against the front of his jeans as he savored the taste of her honey, and the movements of his mouth on her became less calculated, more sloppy as his own need rode to a razor-edge.

  His tongue dipped inside of her; somehow one of her thighs became braced on his shoulder. The scent of her arousal fogged his senses, and all he knew was that he needed more, more, more. And then he had it, her hand pulling at his hair, her heel digging into his back, her cries loud and unrestrained.

  He savored her release, drinking her down until finally she lay still. He placed his head on her thigh, with her hand still tangled in his hair, and they stayed as they were until their sweat began to cool.

  “Am I dead?” Her voice was rough, and he knew he needed to get her some water. As soon as he could move without exploding in his own pants. “I’m pretty sure I’m dead. You killed me.”

  “Very much alive, I’m afraid.” Laughing softly, he shifted, easing her leg back down before it could begin to cramp. His fingers traced up and down her calf as they stayed silent for a long moment, though he could tell by the gradual tightening of her body that her ever-busy mind was clicking back into gear.

  “Not that I’m complaining, darlin’, but what brought this on?” Forcing himself upright, Cian sat back on his heels. His stare raked over her where she lay, propping herself up on her elbows on his worn couch. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and he knew without being told that she was starting to feel exposed, never mind what they’d just done, so he reached for her discarded shirt and handed it to her.

  She waited until she’d pulled the thin cotton over her head and slid her arms back through the sleeves before she spoke, more confident now that she was partially covered. If she knew how delectable she looked, sitting there in a stretched out top and panties wet because of him, she might not have felt so relaxed.

  “Nell came over.” She laughed when he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Relax. The worst thing she told me was about the time you dyed your hair red.”

  “Big-mouthed wench.” Embarrassment flickered but was gone fast. “Go on.”

  “She was…well, encouraging.” Pushing herself upright, she reached out, traced a finger over the bar in his eyebrow. He loved her fascination with his piercings, though he knew that it puzzled the hell out of her. “Look. I didn’t come here looking for a…connection…with anyone.”

  His pulse stuttered. A connection. Well, that was the truth of it, because what sparked between them was more than just attraction. Still, it was odd to hear it spoken out loud.

  He nodded, urging her to continue.

  “I wasn’t looking for it, but it’s there.” Tilting her head, she looked right into his eyes. “I want to do something about it. And for once I’m going to do what I want.”

  …

  It was the second time Cian had returned to his apartment with a raging erection he could barely contain. But, unlike that painful first experience, this time he was hopeful. All it took was remembering the way Sarah had looked at him—the way her lips parted, and how she arched against him as she shuddered in orgasm…

  With a groan, he shut and locked the door behind him, tossing his drenched jacket over the back of a chair. True to the weather report, the skies had opened up while he was busy in the back office, and another torrential downpour echoed off his roof. In his rush to leave Wild Irish, not only had he neglected to finish his paperwork, but he’d also forgotten his umbrella.

  As a result, he was soaked to the skin.

  Cian was grateful for the chilling downpour. If anything, it helped take the edge off his desire.

  A part of him regretted the missed opportunity. It would have taken very little for him to get her on the desk and slip inside her, to feel her clenching, tight as a vice, around him. But Cian knew better. Sarah wasn’t the type for secret rendezvous in back rooms. She’d all but fled the moment she’d been able to stand properly—not in fear of him, but in acute embarrassment.

  While it was true that Cian had been with more than his fair share of women—in bathrooms, janitors’ closets, and on balconies across the world—Sarah was nothing like his other conquests. She wouldn’t be just another feather in his hat. No, Sarah Mercer wasn’t the kind of woman who opened up to just anyone, and Cian took it as a blessing that she’d let him touch her at all.

  She was…withdrawn. She hid from social situations and confrontations because they made her uncomfortable—that was plain as day. Nell had already told him that Sarah had all but had a heart attack when she showed up at her flat with cake and tea. That proved that she was unused to being surrounded by the kindness and warmth of others.

  Well, he would just have to fix that, wouldn’t he?

  With a grin, Cian started to plan. He would call his sister first thing in the morning and hope that she didn’t verbally dissect him for fleeing the pub before he was finished working. Somehow, he doubted it. She’d be thrilled when she heard what he suggested.

  But before he took care of planning for Sarah, he had to take care of another, more pressing problem first
.

  Cian hadn’t known a man could die of arousal, but he was pretty sure Sarah Mercer was bringing him pretty damn close to the edge.

  …

  “An outing? You must be joking.”

  At the pub the next morning, Ainsley reiterated the incredulity she’d shown him during their phone conversation. “You? Shopping? You’ve always said, and I quote, ‘I would bugger a horse up the arse before I set foot in a shopping mall with a female’”.

  “Funny, Ains. Is that supposed to be your impression of me?”

  “Aye, well, your mouth’s a lot dirtier, isn’t it?”

  Cian tried and failed to hide his smile. Ainsley seemed in much better spirits today, and she wasn’t too terribly pissed that he hadn’t finished the ledger the night before. “I’m not going shopping with you.” He clarified. “It’ll just be you and Nell taking Sarah.”

  “Sarah?” Ainsley’s expression turned skeptical. “Not that I wouldn’t love to, Cian, but she hardly ever leaves her flat. Just to get a bit of nosh and talk to Nell—and that’s only because she’s right across the street.”

  “So you’ll convince her.” Cian smiled winningly. Even his sister couldn’t resist his thousand-kilowatt smile. “I’m firmly of the opinion that between the two of you, you and Nell could convince a man to sell his soul.”

  “Oh, go on.” Ainsley grinned at the compliment, then her expression turned thoughtful. “You really think she’ll agree?”

  With a sigh, Cian leaned back against the seat of the booth they shared. “I hope so. She needs to come out of her shell. Shy…like she’s afraid everyone’s out to get her.”

  “I could hardly imagine why.” Ainsley was instantly affronted on behalf of the younger woman. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

  “But one might hurt her,” Cian returned promptly, holding up a finger in warning. “Which is why she needs to speak with ladies her age. Have fun. Do…girly things.” He shrugged. “I’ve no idea how these things work. That’s why I need your help.”

  “You know I’m always here to help, my darling brother.” Ainsley fluffed her dark hair primly before leaning over the table to meet his gaze coyly. “But if we’re going shopping, you know there’s something I’ll need from you.” She held out her hand expectantly, and Cian groaned. Christ almighty, what was he going to do with this woman. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket to extract his wallet then slapped his credit card into her palm.