Irish Kisses Boxed Set

by JoAnne Kenrick

  Chapter Five

  When Sandra had kissed him after dinner, she hadn’t intended a snog session. She’d wanted to break the ice so they wouldn’t be waiting for the “first kiss” of the evening. Donkey balls, that damned brogue of his is going to have me on my back the second I blink. She imagined him naked with his ax over his shoulder, asking her to “come ta shed.” Tingles shot through her tummy. She was attracted to him, sure. But was he relationship material? Could she hand him her heart and not expect him to stomp on it?

  Ardan moved to the serving side of the old, decorative bar, and she parked herself on a velvet-upholstered stool. The material might have been fancy but with little padding between it and the wood, the darn thing was uncomfortable. She slid to standing, elbows on the bar and chin resting in hands.

  The guy did carry me through a blizzard, and chopped down a tree for me. She admired his muscular frame and strong features, not to mention his sweet mouth with lullabies of Irish slang. Sigh.

  “I don’t want this date ta be for one night only,” he confessed, pouring Irish cream into two hot coffees and topping them with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He did it so perfectly. She could just imagine him working behind the bar at Bell’s Irish Pub back home. “There, two Hot Winter Kisses.”

  “It’s not simple, though, is it?” Taking the mug from him, her fingers brushed his and tingles erupted under his touch. Heat singed her cheeks, and she set her gaze firmly on her drink to avoid any telltale sign she was hopelessly attracted to the man.

  “Why? Because we’re not the same age? Do the maths. There’s only fifteen years between us.”

  “Age schmage, it’s because we’re both damaged goods. Me with a crazy ex-husband and…well…Laura told me about your wife’s passing two years ago. I’m so sorry.” She rubbed his shoulder as if he were a child who’d fallen over. She wanted to ask him if it was an accident or illness, but the tears pooling in his eyes warned her not to.

  “Have ya Kiss.”

  “Because a drink will make me thirty two with no commitments and no—”

  “No…I was thinking more of actual kisses.” He cradled her face in his hands and tilted her head. His intense stare met hers and her heart flip-flopped. “Let’s leave the depressing holidays behind and spend this evening together without this nonsense. Indulging in Hot Winter Kisses and making love until the morning comes seems like a good place ta start then we’ll do it all over. Imagine the freedom, the pleasure…the orgasms.”

  “The Christmas tree!”

  “Charmin’, know how ta make a man feel good about himself, don’t ya?”

  “I can’t go to bed without having a tree decorated. It’s a tradition of sorts, something I do every year with the grandkids. Once it’s in the house, it’s gotta be dolled up.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Yes, I’m old. Yes, I am a grandmother. Deal with it.”

  “I didn’t say a word.” He took his mug and sipped on the steaming liquid, froth coating his full lips and luring her into licking him clean. He caught her looking, went cross-eyed, and stuck his tongue out. “Do ya think I’m sexy?”

  “Quit it. Without being able to phone, this is all I’ve got to feel close to them.”

  “With a bit of luck, Ballygalley will soon be connected ta the world again. Usually takes around forty-eight hours ta get us back up and running after a winter storm. Hang in there, ya be speaking ta ya wee ones before ya know it, and learning about all the awesome goodies they got from Father Christmas for being great kids.”

  “Billy wants an electric scooter so bad, this year. His mother decided, because of the nutter he is, he’d be running the thing around the roads and getting into all kinds of strife…. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see his face, but I went ahead and bought him one anyway. Actually, my daughter’s face will be a picture, too!”

  “Ha, yes, little boys do like ta live on the edge with their big boy toys….” His expression warmed, and smile lines framed his almond shaped eyes as if he were remembering a special little boy in his own life. His son, she guessed. Sandra didn’t begrudge him keeping a bit of information to himself; most parents would do the same.

  He shook his head and smiled. “How old is Billy?”

  She was far too proud a grandmother to quit talking about her beauties. “Five. And he has a twin sister, Bally. Always so cute with fairy wings or a tutu on. I got her a princess costume and the biggest teddy ever. I bet she squeals the house down when she claps eyes on it.”

  “I can see ya love them very much, so why did ya decide ta spend your winter break out here instead of with them?”

  “My ex is back in town and made it clear he’d be visiting my daughter, Karen, over the holidays. I didn’t want to deal with his crap so I opted for a peaceful time in a remote Irish castle and my books.”

  “Ballygalley might be remote, but it’s never peaceful for long around here.”

  “Beginning to see that. But ex or not, I miss having little ones and their playful laughter around me. I’ve decided to head back to London once the roads are cleared and the ferries are running again. With a bit of luck, I’ll be traveling home the day after tomorrow, Christmas Eve.”

  “Hmm, nice bloke is he, your ex?”

  “Enough about me.” She pried open an old box. The baubles and tinsel were all gold and red themed, just like hers back home. She merrily hung them in a color pattern, and cascaded tinsel in a spiral. He helped reach the taller parts of the tree. A fairy sat alone in the box, right at the bottom. Sandra fished her out and carefully straightened the cotton dress and fluffed the dust from her yellow wool hair.

  “Be careful!” he growled, snatching the homemade decoration from her grasp and holding it close to his chest.

  “She’s beautiful, someone special make her?”

  “No one important.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” She chided, poking him in the ribs.

  “Ya got me.” He reached to the top of the eight-foot tree and perched her right at the top before standing back to admire her presence on the fir.

  “She’s lovely and deserves the pinnacle spot.”

  “When I was in primary school, I also made a heap of peg dolls. Always had an enjoyment for making stuff ta please others. Guess that explains why I went on ta working with wool.”

  “Oh? And pray tell, Ardan, what do you do for a living?”

  “I did own a wool factory, where we made sweaters for the likes of those overpriced touristy stores in villages.” Ah a nice homely guy, down to earth and not on a climb to world domination. A welcome change from her director of a Fortune Five Hundred company ex who’d do anything, to anyone, to make the next deal.

  “Did? What do you do now?”

  “I….” He cupped her face and shimmied up close, pressing his firm body against hers.

  “Yes?”

  “How about another kiss?” Sweet temptation. “Sandra, I’m going ta throw ya over my shoulder and—”

  “No, Ardan, you will not be throwing me anywhere. And if you’re going to keep changing the subject, I might as well give up and go straight in for the kill.”

  She undid the zip down the side of her dress, her gaze stuck to his greedy eyes skimming every inch of her body. The velvet material slipped to the floor. A granny she might be, but her breasts stood pert and erect. It’d been some time since she’d shown her body to anyone with the lights on, but judging by the bulge growing in his pants, she wasn’t in bad shape.

  “The knickers, too,” he ordered.

  “You too, mister. Get your sweater off.” She wanted to see what a real man’s body looked like. She wasn’t disappointed. Muscles curving and dipping, six pack heaven. She wanted to trace her tongue in every crevice of his chest, all the way down to the little curls starting from his belly button and leading down to his groin. She froze. “I…I…I am impressed,” she managed to say, heat spreading down her limbs and making them tighten with lust.

 
; “Come, show me all you’ve learned,” he whispered, his voice silky smooth. Holding out a hand, he beckoned her forward. “Guide me in the ways of what ya like or face miserable disappointment.”

  “I doubt you’ll disappoint. Have faith and go with your instincts. I’ll let you in on a secret. I’ve had one lover my whole life, if you don’t count the ones in my books.”

  “Is that so? Then we can take it snow, I mean slow. My instinct is telling me ta put a condom on before we get started.”

  “Good start. You got one handy?”

  “I just so happen ta have a selection in me back pocket. I was feeling the luck of the Irish was with me tonight.”

  “Cover up so we can get acquainted.”

  He eased her onto the floor and moved to her feet, kissing her inch by inch until he arrived at her breasts. He took one in his mouth, flicking the hardened peak against his velvet smooth tongue. Her sensitive flesh tingled under his exquisite technique. She moaned. Pure bliss raced through her, and she succumbed to his gentle, sensual advances. Clamping her nipple with his teeth, he then traced his hand over her belly down to her crotch. He massaged her swollen mound before slipping two fingers into her entrance. She edged her hips into his motion, her rhythm speeding in desperation.

  “Hmm, you’re so wet,” he grated, his velvety tone and dirty words probing at her impatience.

  “Now, Ardan. I want you inside me now.”

  He kissed her, his mouth sweet and possessive. As he claimed her lips, he entered her. Thrusting deep, he growled rough guttural sounds, driving her insane. She squeezed his buttocks. Needing to eliminate any space between them, she wrapped her legs around him. Faster. Closer.

  A fluttering in her tummy spread to the tips of her toes then exploded, sending her pussy into a fevered release of contractions. She threw her head back in pleasure, screaming out his name.

  “Ardan!”

  He grunted, taking one last thrust before spilling inside her.

  Kissing her neck, he whispered, “Next time, we’ll utilize the decorations somehow.” He yanked red tinsel from the tree, trailing it over her breasts and around the nubs. “I’m sure I could find a way ta use this.”

  Sandra caught something in her peripheral vision. “I could have sworn I saw someone creeping past the window. Argh, I hope they didn’t see us….”

  He slipped into his pants then shuffled to the window, pressing his face against the glass. “I can’t see anything.” Cupping his hands around his eyes, he leaned forward.

  “I wonder if it’s the little boy I keep seeing playing outside with the older lady. I think they live in the wee cottage you can see from the dining room window.”

  He pivoted, his face drained of all color. “Why would ya think it was him? Was it small like a boy?”

  “I don’t know.” Sandra shrugged. “Can’t see much through the snow and fogged up glass.”

  “I hope it wasn’t him. A young boy shouldn’t see his…erm, shouldn’t see such things.”

  A man jumped out from behind a snow covered bush, waving his arms in the air and laughing. “Nollaig Shona Duit, ceannard,” he cheered. Sandra screamed and grabbed her dress. She raced behind the tree and covered up. The lunatic in the snow bellowed, “Laura and I are celebrating with Christmas pudding and a glass of sherry if ya care ta join us in the dining room.” He stumbled away, singing Rocking around the Christmas Tree.

  Yup, he saw us. More to the point…what did he mean by calling him ceannard—boss? She’d heard some of the boys at Bell’s call Shaun the same thing.

  This man had more secrets than she liked, and putting them to the back of her mind so she could enjoy her date was growing increasingly harder.

  Sandra grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face her. “Boss man?”

  “That’s Laura’s husband, who works for—”

  “You. He works for you, doesn’t he? This hotel, it’s yours.”

  “Not exactly.”

  What exactly?”

  “It’s not a hotel.”

  “Of course it is. I’m a paying guest here and booked via a website…wait, how is there a website when you’re so techno-no.” Her head spun, trying to take in all the information. “Guess it explains why there are no signs anywhere, or why the rooms aren’t numbered or even named. And why on earth would you even have a hotel website, if you’re not running a hotel, oh…you’re not some ax murder are you?”

  He laughed at her panic attack, infuriating her even more.

  “Ardan, spill it now before I run to my room screaming.”

  “Okay. Okay. Yes, I own the place, got handed down ta me when me father died of pancreatic cancer four years ago. I gave up me factory ta run the hotel with Amy, but I closed up shop when she died of meningitis. She’s the one who designed the website, so I haven’t had the heart ta shut it down. Ta be honest, I don’t know how ta.”

  “I’m so sorry. But you get why I got a little freaked out, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with such warmth, her heart melted. She knew she was falling for him.

  “Do you still love her? Of course you do…this was a bad idea.”

  “Don’t say that, Sandra. Madame Eve brought us together for a reason. We need each other, can’t ya understand?”

  “But we’re from two different worlds, you with your glorious castle isolated from the world, and me with the need to be surrounded by people.”

  He threw up his hand and pointed a digit at her. “Wait there a minute.” He pivoted and raced up the stairs, the clunk of his steps bouncing off the vaulted ceilings above the staircase. He returned seconds later in old man flannels, holding folded pajamas and a blanket. “I think it’s time for a bedtime story, and I’m not going ta be reading from your fandangle device, so go have a browse of me library and pick one.” He threw the bedclothes at her. “Put these on.”

  She strolled to the small collection of books she’d spotted the day before and selected one. Half way back to the community area, which she now guessed was simply his living room, she back stepped and picked another. Rather than go for a Christmassy tradition, she opted for a little something more her.

  “Ah, I see ya picked Lady Chatterley’s steamy story. Nice choice, but ya didn’t change?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t ya want ta put something on ta be more comfortable?”

  She grinned, slipping out of her dress. “No.”

  He piled some pillows on the floor between the fireplace and the fir and snuggled under the blanket. “Don’t blame me if ya wake up freezing ya ass off.”

  “Who said anything about sleep?” She joined him, hooking a leg over him and resting her head on his hard chest as he read the words. On and on he read, it mattered not what he was saying but how he said it. His Irish brogue got under her skin and stirred her sexual desires. Sliding her touch over his belly, she twirled the pads of her digits down to his aroused shaft and wrapped her hand around his width.

  Groaning, he dropped the book with a thud and seized her wrist. “I wasn’t finished reading, miss.”

  He rolled her over and pinned her arms above her head in a firm grip. With the other hand, he tugged tinsel and wrapped it around her wrists. Not so tight it hurt, but tight enough she couldn’t escape. With another string, he secured her wrists to the base of the tree. “Don’t move too much, or ya’ll be buried under sparkles and nature.”

  “Quit tickling me, then,” she whined.

  A glittering side of cheek sparkled in his indigo blues, and a smile erupted. He reached for yet more tinsel and dangled it over her tummy. Skimming her dips and curves, he managed to find every ticklish spot she had. She wiggled and shuddered under his touch but didn’t fight to break free. She had told herself this wasn’t for keeps, he was simply on loan for Christmas…but the more time she spent with him, the more she envisioned herself living in the sticks with him. Laura could teach her how to bake bread from scratch, and she could sit
in the Rose Room and write up her own romance story. She could help his little one with homework in the afternoons then take care of Ardan in the evenings.

  He wafted the glittery strands over her hardened nipples, the sensitive skin tightening under his torturous sensation play.

  “This hardly seems fair. I can’t touch you.”

  “Ya don’t need ta touch me, Sandra. Hush, let me take care of ya.” He reached for another condom from his pajama pocket and tugged down his elastic-waisted bottoms before sliding the rubber on. Springing to attention, his hard-on twitched at his touch.

  He met her mouth with soft, plump lips, and she succumbed to him completely. This time, their motion and rhythm naturally intertwined. She cried out his name, feeling the orgasm grow inside her.

  As she reached the heights of arousal and fluttered around his hard shaft, he reached for the tinsel again, dangling it above her face. “I’ve heard if one tickles a lover’s nose as they come, it doubles the fun.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  The tiny quivers died and returned in a blast, shuddering through her, making her legs shake. Waves of intense tingles shot from her sex down to her toes, until finally her body gave in and left her in a floating, peaceful place.

  His penetrations became urgent, faster, his breath shallow between grunts. He came, and showered her in sweet kisses.

  A real man. I made love to a real man. And he thinks I’m beautiful. He’s beautiful. We’re beautiful together.

  “I think I’m falling for you,” she whispered.

  He kissed her cheek, reaching to untie her. “Ditto.” His eyes said more. They said, “I wanna marry ya someday,” Sandra drifted into a world of dreams and sleep, wrapped in her lover’s arms.

  Chapter Six

  The phone rang, reminding her time with Ardan was limited. If the lines were working, she could check about ferry services. Did she want to jump ship and head home for the holidays? Or intrude on his? Neither option seemed viable. Even though she tried to fight the sadness filling her, she couldn’t help but frown.