Wild Irish

by C. M. Seabrook

  “What about me?”

  Tossing the keys on the small table by the door, I stalk towards her. Her eyes flare, filling with arousal and heat as I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her towards me.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been as intrigued by a woman as I am her. It’s not just her looks. Sure, she’s gorgeous. But there’s something else. An untapped wildness. A kindred spirit. I don’t know what it is, but I know I’ve never wanted so bad to get inside a woman’s mind, just as much as her body, as I do Delaney’s.

  “Ye fascinate me.” I trace the line of her jaw. “And ye’re incredibly sexy, ye know that?”

  She blushes, and her gaze drops, but I tilt her chin with my thumb and kiss her.

  Her hands come to my chest, and she goes soft against me, her body molding to my own, tongue tangling with mine as the need between us increases.

  I don’t waste time stripping off her sundress, her bra, and cute little panties. I need her close, need the touch of her skin against mine.

  She’s just as desperate as I am, tearing at my shirt, fingers raking across my skin, under the waist of my pants.

  I pull a condom out of my wallet and Delaney takes it from my hand with a wicked little grin.

  She licks her lips as she glances down at my erection, and I groan when she kneels in front of me, her fingers wrapping around my engorged shaft.

  Her tongue licks over the tip, and my cock jerks against her lips.

  “Delaney,” I growl. My hands are in her hair, guiding her down as she takes every inch of me into her sweet mouth. My muscles bunch and tighten each time she flicks her tongue over the crest, teasing, licking, stroking, until I’m ready to explode in her mouth.

  I tug at her hair gently. “As good as that feels, love, I’m not going to last long if ye keep doing that.”

  Slowly, agonizingly, she releases my cock with one last swipe of her tongue against the tip, then takes the condom and sheaths me.

  “Come here,” I growl out, taking her hands and pulling her down onto the bed with me, so that she’s straddling me.

  I want to see her as she rides me.

  Gaze locked with mine, she places her hands on my chest and lifts so that my cock nudges at her pussy.

  Unhurriedly, she slides down, and her eyes close, a small gasp of pleasure on her lips.

  She begins to rock against me, slowly, steadily at first, then faster, harder. She’s greedy for me. For her release. What starts out slow and steady, soon turns into a hard, wild, frantic rhythm.

  Her thighs tighten and I can feel the rippling of her pussy as it milks my cock, drawing me into pure ecstasy.

  Her cry of pleasure is my undoing, rasping over my senses. My fingers tighten on her hips, holding her tight, and I thrust, grinding into her until I’m coming harder than I ever have before.

  My God, she undoes me.

  She rests on top of me, face resting in the nook of my neck, her breath still fast and uneven. When she starts to move away, I hold her hips, not wanting to break the contact. I know it’s dangerous. I need to dispose of the condom, but I don’t want her to move. Not yet.

  “Stay.” It’s more of a command than a request. And I realize as the words come out that I don’t mean just now.

  I run my hands up her back, the skin soft compared to my calloused fingers, and I feel her tremble.

  “Stay with me,” I murmur against her hair. “Let’s go somewhere.”

  “What?” She lifts her head so that she’s looking at me, her chin resting on her hands.

  “Ye came here to see Ireland, right?”

  She gives a small nod and pulls her lip between her teeth.

  “Then let me show it to ye.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widen, then she frowns. “What about the car? I don’t have extra cash to–”

  I brush her hair back, then cup the back of her head and kiss her hard, silencing her protests.

  She submits instantly, her body melting against mine and making my cock stir again inside her. I love the way she responds to my touch.

  I nip at her lip. “Let me worry about everything.”

  I’m playing a dangerous game. Letting her close. Knowing she has to leave eventually.

  Maybe it’s the distorted sense of reality with her wrapped in my arms, or the way she looks at me like I’m a fucking hero, rather than the asshole who’s taking a chance on breaking her heart because I’m too selfish to let her go before she gets attached.

  I’m being careless.

  But I’m not ready to give her up.

  Not yet.

  Not until I have to.

  Chapter 19

  Delaney

  I stretch out in the king-sized bed, smiling when Cillian reaches out in his sleep and pulls me snug against his hard body. I don’t even know what day it is, but I know I never want to go home.

  Cillian has made it his mission to show me all of Ireland, and in the past few weeks, we’ve done more than I ever imagined possible, even checking off a couple more things from Maeve’s list. This time, not because I felt obligated to, but because I wanted to.

  Every moment with him is an adventure.

  After the night in Strandhill, Cillian and I drove south along the West Coast. We spent a few nights in Galloway, then Limerick, and even made it all the way down to Cork, before driving back up the East Coast towards Dublin.

  I’ve seen more castles, churches, ancient sites, and sheep than I knew existed. So much of the land seems untouched by men, and it’s easy to understand how myths and legends began here. Gods and goddesses, giants and fairies, even Irish luck; they all seem possible when you stand in the shadows of Benbulbin. And it’s hard not to walk along the Cliffs of Mohor or Connemara and not feel insignificant.

  But it’s not just the land or the old buildings.

  What makes Ireland is the people.

  I understand why Maeve wanted to come here.

  Life is lived here.

  Or maybe with Cillian, I’ve just learned how to live it.

  Lacing my fingers in his, I snuggle back against him and close my eyes against the morning sun that streams through the windows – our only alarm clock. He turned his phone off days ago, and mine is still broken, stashed with my luggage at his house.

  We haven’t been back since.

  I know, at some point, we have to go back. I need to settle things with the rental agency. The car is a complete write-off, but instead of worrying about it like I probably should be, I’ve just been enjoying every second that I have here.

  I know it’ll have to end soon. This isn’t reality, it’s just a beautiful dream that I’m going to have to wake up from eventually. I’ve already stayed longer than I should. But I don’t want to leave – Ireland or Cillian.

  We’re back in Strandhill staying in Patrick’s small bachelor pad on top of the pub. I think this is my favorite spot. I love waking up and walking on the beach, seeing the surfers, watching the sunset over the ocean. Even more, I love hearing Cillian sing. Tonight, he promised Patrick that he’s doing a whole set with the band.

  I’ve tried to ask him about Wild Irish, but his walls go up every time I do. I’ve managed to get some information out of him. I know now that Aiden, Shane, and his brother, Owen, are the other members, and that after his falling out with Owen, the band split.

  Sometimes, I wonder if he’s not using his time with me as an excuse to run from his problems.

  When I sigh, Cillian places his mouth to my ear and says sleepily, “What’s wrong?”

  I hadn’t realized he was awake. Turning in his arms, I place my palm on his cheek and kiss him. God, I’m going to miss him when I go home. “You asked me when you met me who I was running from.”

  “Did I?” he murmurs, his fingers trailing across my skin.

  “I could ask you the same.”

  He ignores me, trailing his lips down my stomach.

  “Is it your brother?”

  His muscles tense, blue eyes suddenly
steely, but he doesn’t answer, and I see the answer in the hard lines around his mouth.

  “You can’t run from your problems forever. Neither of us can.”

  He grunts. “We’ve been doing a good job of it so far.”

  I smile softly and touch his face. His scruff is thicker now, almost a full beard. “Whatever he did, you need to forgive him.”

  He rolls over on his back with a frustrated sigh. “What he did was unforgivable.”

  “He’s your brother–”

  “He’s a lying, cheating bastard that couldn’t keep his cock in his pants.” Rolling off the bed, he grabs his clothes and starts to dress.

  “Maybe there’s more to the story. Emer said–”

  The look he pins me with stops me mid-sentence. “My brother fucked the woman I thought I was in love with. Hard to spin it any other way.”

  The woman he was in love with.

  I don’t know why his confession bothers me so much, but it does.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I sit up, grab the t-shirt and shorts Cillian bought for me at one of our stops, and put them on.

  He drags his fingers through his hair and looks out the window.

  I find my purse and put my sandals on. “I’ll go get us coffee.”

  “No. I’ll go.” His voice is rough and he doesn’t look at me. He cuts me off at the door and slams it shut behind him.

  I sit down heavily on the bed, a premonition tugging at the back of my mind.

  I hate seeing him upset. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned his brother, but I feel like it’s something that’s holding him back. Like he’s using it as an excuse for not letting go, for not letting himself care about other people.

  Or maybe I just want more than he can give. Which is completely selfish, because I’ll be gone soon. Maybe I just want to know that it won’t just be me that will be leaving with a broken heart.

  Yeah, selfish.

  If I care about him as much as I think I do, then I should be glad it won’t hurt him as much.

  Chapter 20

  Cillian

  God, I’m a fucking idiot, and a goddamn liar. I don’t know why I said that about Molly. I never loved the woman. Hell, looking back, I’m not sure I even liked her. She was just one more person who betrayed me. Sure, it hurt, but not half as much as Owen’s betrayal.

  But what hurt even more was seeing the wounded look in Delaney’s eyes just now.

  I don’t know what the hell she expected from me, but I know it’s more than I can give. Yet, every day I’m with her I can feel a bit of my defenses being chipped away.

  I’ve gotten too damn attached. Hell, last night when we were together, I almost asked her to stay.

  It’s insane.

  My entire life, I’ve steeled my emotions from people, knowing that, given the chance, everyone, especially the people closest to you, will leave, or worse, betray you. My brother’s actions didn’t convince me; they only confirmed what I already knew.

  But now, I’m falling for a woman who lives on the other side of the ocean. Knowing full fucking well that she will leave.

  I know I can’t ask her to stay unless I’m willing to give her everything. And I’m just not convinced I’m ready. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for the things Delaney wants, or for the things she deserves.

  Patrick meets me at the front of the coffee shop, brows drawn down, and grabs my biceps, pulling me to the back of the shop, eyes darting over his shoulder.

  “I think ye got a bit of trouble.”

  Shit. I glance around, expecting to find Aiden or Shane, or worse, Owen, lurking in the shadows.

  I frown. “Why?”

  Patrick glances over his shoulder again and nods to the back booth. There’s a man, maybe in his early twenties, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt.

  I don’t recognize him.

  “Who is he?”

  “Says he’s looking for ye.”

  “Me?” I’ve had my share of crazed fans since Wild Irish hit the charts, but he doesn’t look like a groupie. He looks more like a banker or a debt collector. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No. But he made it clear he wasn’t leaving until he talked to ye.”

  “How the hell did he know I was here?”

  Patrick shrugs. “He’s been asking all over town about ye.”

  A heavy pit forms in my stomach. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Let me know if ye need any back-up.”

  I grunt, then walk towards the booth. Better to just deal with the man straight up.

  “I hear ye’re looking for me.”

  The man glances up, and the second his gaze lands on mine, recognition settles in his dark eyes, and I see it – anger.

  “Cillian Gallagher?” He says my name like it’s poison on his lips.

  “And ye are?”

  He stands. The man is a couple inches taller than I am, but he’s scrawny. Even so, he looks ready for a fight.

  “Matt Wheatley.”

  I tilt my chin and look down my nose at him. “Never heard of ye.”

  His nostrils flare, and the anger in his gaze only intensifies. “I find that hard to believe.”

  The man hasn’t done anything, but I can already feel my fingers forming into fists at my sides.

  “What can I do for ye, Matt Wheatley?” I say his name with the same amount of venom he said mine. I may not know who he is, but from his stance and the look in his eyes, it’s clear he’s not here for anything good.

  “I’m looking for someone you know.” He pulls out his wallet and takes out a photo, handing it to me.

  My chest tightens when I look down and see familiar hazel eyes staring back at me.

  Delaney.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “What do ye want with her?”

  Anger tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it. “She’s missing.”

  “Missing?” I frown and drag my fingers through my hair, not knowing what to trust from this guy.

  “I know you were with her,” he says.

  “Do ye now?” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I saw the pictures. The video.” His voice quakes with wrath.

  I don’t know what fucking pictures and videos he’s seen, but I know he’s not going anywhere near Delaney until he tells me who the hell he really is, and what he wants with her.

  “Yeah, I know her,” I say slowly.

  His lip curls up. “Where is she?”

  “Tell me what ye want with her first.”

  “I want her to come home.” His lips become a thin line, his nostrils flare, and then he says the three words that rip my heart from my chest. “She’s my fiancée.”

  Chapter 21

  Delaney

  I let out a small sigh when Cillian finally comes back. The last thing I want is to spend the last few days we have together fighting.

  “I was just going to go look for you. I thought maybe you got–” I stop when I take in his appearance. His eyes are hard, emotionless. Not the typical broodiness that I’ve gotten used to, but something cold and detached of feeling.

  This is more than just him being mad about me mentioning his brother.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask slowly, not sure I want to know.

  He shuts the door, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stands there for a few long moments with his palm resting on the handle.

  “Cillian?” I take a step toward him, but when I place my hand on his arm, he flinches.

  My breath sticks in my throat when he finally looks at me. Nothing of the man I know is left. This man is volatile and full of hate. Worse, the hatred is directed straight at me.

  “It’s time ye went home.” He pushes past me and starts collecting my stuff, throwing it carelessly into the suitcase he bought when we were in Limerick.

  All I can do is stand there in confusion and watch him. “I–”

  “Get yer things. Ye need to leave.”

  �
�I don’t understand. If it’s about what I said earlier, I’m sorry–”

  He chuckles, but there’s no humor to it. “I didn’t understand until now why you’d defend them.”

  “Who?”

  “To think I bought yer whole act.” His mouth curves up in a sneer, and I feel my heart being shredded in my chest. “But ye’re no better than any of them.”

  Despite the warning in the back of my mind, I move towards him and get in his path, placing my hands on his chest. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done–”

  He grabs my wrist, then lowers his face to mine and hisses through his teeth, “Your fiancé is waiting for you.”

  Fiancé? My heart hammers in my chest.

  Cillian’s gaze is on me, watching, studying, waiting for my reaction. But I still don’t know what the hell is going on.

  Then it hits me.

  Matt.

  I frown. “Matt’s here?”

  How did he find me?

  Cillian releases my wrists and snorts. “He’s waiting in the coffee shop. Get yer stuff and go.”

  That’s why he’s upset? Because he thinks I’m engaged? A small sliver of anger starts in my chest. After all this time. He really doesn’t know me at all.

  “You’re making a mistake.” I drop my hands to my sides, the tiny bit of fight left inside of me leaving.

  He grunts. “Funny, that’s what people always say when they get caught in a lie.”

  I blink and tears fall over my cheeks. I knew this thing between us would end, I just didn’t expect it to end like this. Not with angry words. Not with him believing I’m just one more person who betrayed him.

  “Cillian,” I say softly, already knowing he’s made up his mind and that I’ve lost him.

  “Ye got what ye wanted. A little adventure. A little fling. But it’s over.” He tosses the bag at my feet, then turns his back on me. “Yer fiancé is waiting.”

  Anger consumes what’s left of my confusion and self-pity. I know he won’t believe me, but I won’t leave here without correcting him.

  “He is not–”

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  “Cillian.” Someone bangs on the door, hard. “Cillian, open the fucking door.”