Taming Irish

by Seabrook, C. M.

  “I’ll just wait in the living room.” He moves through the house with the ease of someone who’s been here before, and it makes me wonder just how well he knows Colleen.

  A touch of jealousy presses against my ribs, and I immediately push it away. If I’m already feeling a slight possessiveness over the man now, how much worse would it be if I actually slept with him?

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He sits down on the couch, stretching out his long legs. “Ten minutes, or I’m coming in there after ye.”

  It’s a playful threat. One that has my knees turning to rubber and making my mind go to all sorts of naughty places.

  I turn quickly, hoping he doesn’t see the heat that’s crept into my face, and make a quick stop in the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine before heading to the bedroom to change.

  I’ve never been great at putting on make-up. Unlike Quinn, I don’t have the luxury of working with an already perfect face. I know I’m pretty, in a kind of girl-next-door way. But after being compared publicly to Chad’s former supermodel-turned-blockbuster-actress wife, there are some insecurities that still linger in the deepest recesses of my mind.

  But the way Shane looks at me, all the primal hunger and uncontained lust, makes me forget about the extra fifteen pounds I’m carrying, and all the other tiny imperfections Chad was always so quick to point out.

  Sometimes it’s just nice to be desired. It’s been a long time since I felt that. And no matter how bad of a decision I’m sure I’m making by going out on a date with this man, there’s a part of me that doesn’t just want what he’s offering, but needs it.

  I debate the little black dress I brought just in case, but that might be trying too hard. And I don’t want him getting any ideas that just because I accepted going out with him, wherever he intends to take me, means it’s an invitation into my bed.

  You know that’s exactly where this is headed, Makena.

  A shiver of excitement races through me.

  Sex.

  Uninhibited.

  No strings attached.

  Can I really do it?

  I take a deep swallow of the white wine, then after a second thought, finish the rest of the glass.

  Stop being a coward. It’s just sex.

  And if I’m really going to finally do this, why not do it with the smoking hot Irishman that’s sitting in my living room?

  As weird as this whole thing is, maybe there’s a reason he found me.

  “Two-minute warning,” Shane’s voice floats down the hall. “One minute longer and I assume that means ye’ve given me permission to come after ye.”

  I let the idea settle in. Just get it over with. Like ripping a Band-Aid off. Maybe then I’d finally get rid of this fear that consumes my every second.

  You are not good enough. Five stupid words that plague me.

  “Coming,” I mutter, my fears overruling the ache that’s pulsing between my thighs.

  Dressed in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, I pull an oversized, navy NYPD hoodie over my head, completing my I-don’t-give-a-crap look. I can just imagine the exaggerated eye-roll Quinn would give me if she saw me now.

  Shane is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed when I exit the bedroom. “Damn, I was really hoping ye were going to make me come in and get ye.”

  I give a half smile, my stupid nerves making my hands shake.

  “Ye okay?” Shane asks, his smile disappearing as he pushes off the wall and starts towards me.

  “I don’t…think…” I wipe my palms together, then ball them into fists to try and stop them from shaking.

  “It’s just a date, love. Nothing more.” But the way he rests a palm on my cheek and leans towards me, I know it’s so much more.

  I want his touch.

  Ache for it.

  There’s something both gentle and dominating about it.

  It’s intoxicating.

  I haven’t even kissed him, and yet my body is humming in a way that I’ve never felt before. And despite every protest in my head, I do the one thing I’d never have had the courage to do before. I lean up and kiss him.

  Chapter 8

  Shane

  I’ve kissed my share of women in my life, but the lust that blasts through my veins the second Makena’s fingers dive in my hair and she pulls my mouth down hard against hers is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  Fuck.

  The second our lips crash against each other’s, I know I’m screwed. Her lips are soft and yet desperate, and when she whimpers against my mouth, I come undone.

  I push her back against the wall. Taking. Consuming. Some primal part of my brain is desperate to have all of her. She gives and takes just as much. Delicate hands grip my hair with a fierceness I never expected from her. Passion and need vibrate through the touch like it has a life of its own.

  She smells good. Sweet and fresh. Like fruity shampoo and conditioner.

  My thigh presses between her legs, spreading them, and I grind against her, unable to control the wild hunger that edges me on, even though I know I’m pushing her too quick.

  I expect her to pull back. To cry out and tell me to stop, pulling her walls back up, and barricading herself in the glass house of reluctance she wears like a goddamn shield.

  But she doesn’t.

  If anything, her kiss only intensifies. Her fingers pull at my shirt, snaking underneath, palms flattening on my abs as her moan vibrates against my lips. The way she rocks her hips against my jeans-covered cock lets me know exactly what she wants, and that I’m not the only one affected by the pull between us.

  “I shouldn’t…” she says against my lips, her hands twisting in my shirt. “We shouldn’t…”

  I don’t stop touching her as I growl into her ear. “Give me one good reason, sweetheart, and we’ll stop.”

  Her answer is a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know you.”

  “Yer body says otherwise.”

  “I…” She tilts her head back, resting it against the wall, eyes closed. “I don’t do this.”

  “Maybe ye should do it more often.” I tangle my fingers in her hair and rake my teeth across her neck, making her whimper.

  I know I’m tempting her, polluting her sweet innocence with my own perverseness, but I don’t care. I want her.

  Yeah, I’m a greedy bastard.

  And as my mouth crashes against hers again, I know I’m probably going to regret this. I definitely know she will. Women like her always do.

  There’s a cough from somewhere down the hall, followed by the front door closing loudly.

  Makena jerks in my arms, her eyes flying open as we both glance towards the intruder.

  “Wow,” Colleen’s little sister, Nora, stands there, her mouth hanging open. Then, a grin spreads across her face. “I guess Colleen called ye, then.”

  I chuckle, but Makena doesn’t seem to see the humor in the situation. One hand goes to her swollen lips, while the other goes straight to my chest, pushing me away.

  “Nora,” she says breathlessly. “I didn’t think you were coming until later.”

  “Obviously.” The woman grins at us. “I guess I’ll leave ye, then.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Makena says quickly, almost desperately. “We were just…”

  Nora laughs. “I know what ye were doing.”

  “It’s wasn’t…” Makena stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed.

  “We were just catching up.” I say, placing an arm over Makena’s shoulder, which she quickly tries to push away.

  “Ye know each other?” Nora gives Makena a funny look. “I thought ye said ye hadn’t heard of Wild Irish?”

  “I hadn’t…” A crease forms between her brows when she looks between Nora and I, and I can see the moment she realizes who I am. But, instead of the awe I expect to see in her eyes, she continues to frown at me like I just ran over her puppy. She squints up at me. “You’re Wild Irish?

  “Part of the band, y
eah.” I try and keep the cocky grin that’s usually a permanent fixture on my face, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she either hates our music, or she’s heard about my reputation.

  But the latter doesn’t make much sense, because I’ve been pretty damn straight about my intentions since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

  “Ye’re not a fan?” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension that’s now almost palpable.

  “You…” She ducks away from me and takes a few steps back. “You should have told me.”

  “I figured ye already knew. Not many people don’t know my face.” The words come out sounding cockier than I intended, even though I’m only stating the truth.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m going to go,” Nora says cautiously. “It was nice seeing ye again, Shane.”

  I nod, watching as the woman quickly slips out the door.

  “Oh my God.” Makena covers her face with her hands, but I can still see the crimson that colors her cheeks. “And this is why I don’t date.”

  “I didn’t know we were dating,” I say, taking a step towards her, ready to get back to where we left off before Nora interrupted us. “But I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with ye.”

  Makena puts her hand out to stop me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

  “Do what? Spend time with me, or fuck?”

  More heat creeps into her cheeks, a look I’m starting to enjoy, because I know it means I’m getting under her skin. And that’s exactly where I want to be. That, and balls deep inside of her.

  “Either,” she says, jutting her chin up at me.

  “Five minutes ago, yer body was saying something different.”

  “That’s before I knew who you were.”

  I take another step towards her, watching her stiffen, and yet melt at the same time. The constant war between her mind and body makes her skin flush, her muscles tense, and her bottom lip tremble as her gaze keeps dropping to my mouth.

  “And who am I?” I ask, placing my palms on the wall beside her head.

  She swallows. “You’re…a celebrity.”

  “And that bothers ye?” The woman is odd.

  “People like me are toys to men like you. The difference between you and Chad…” A sharp look of pain cuts across her features momentarily, before she continues. “At least you’re honest about it.”

  “I never said ye were a toy, love. Just that sex can be enjoyed outside of a committed relationship, by both parties.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.” And I hate that she thinks of me the same way she thinks about her ex. Sure, I enjoy sex, but I never promise anything I don’t intend to give. Every woman that’s ever been in my bed has known exactly what they were getting, and most of the time, it’s all they wanted, too.

  She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, then she sighs and says without looking at me, “I’m sure you’re a nice guy-”

  “We’re back to the nice guy bit?”

  “I just don’t need anymore-” She pauses. So much damn pain swirls in her dark eyes, and I find myself being pulled into her gaze, needing to know the secrets she’s holding back.

  I cup her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Anymore what?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. “My divorce had enough media attention to last me a lifetime. Let’s just say, if I never see another reporter again, it will be too soon.”

  I study her, knowing if I go down this road of questions, I’m going to get more involved than I should. But she has my curiosity piqued.

  “Who is he?” I’m starting to get the feeling that her ex is more than just some white-collar jackass who screwed his secretary.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Maybe it doesn’t. But I still want to know. I want to see the face of the asshat who obviously didn’t know what a lucky bastard he was.

  “I’m sorry he hurt ye.”

  I’ve never been a possessive man. Having a younger sister around who had no qualms about taking any of my things, I realized early on to not become too attached to material possessions. But I am protective. Fiercely so. Especially of those that I care about. And while the woman standing in front of me isn’t part of my close circle, I can’t help but feel a primal need to bash in the face of any bastard who caused her pain.

  I stroke my thumb across her bottom lip, knowing I’m not walking away from this. Whatever the hell this is.

  “So ye don’t date celebrities,” I say. “But do ye have any qualms about being friends with them?”

  “Friends?” Her eyes squint suspiciously up at me.

  “I’m sure ye have them over there in the States. Ye know, the people ye occasionally hang out with. Go to the pub and have a few drinks with.”

  She snorts. “I don’t go to many pubs.”

  “See, now that’s something we’ll be needing to change. Are ye trying to tell me that ye’ve been in Ireland for four whole days, and ye haven’t been to a real Irish pub?”

  A small smile tugs at her lips and she shakes her head.

  “Then we’ll go-”

  “I told you, I can’t-”

  “Just friends,” I say, putting my hands up, even though I make no effort to move away from her.

  “And do you have sex with your friends?”

  My shoulders lift and fall, and the grin that never seems to leave my face when I’m around her tugs at my lips. “Cillian, Owen, and Aiden aren’t really my type.”

  Her head tilts and she studies me. “They’re your band members?”

  “And my best friends. Since before we even knew what sex was.”

  “I have a feeling that was a long time ago for you.”

  I wink and pull a full-dimple smile. “I was an early bloomer.”

  She gives me a look that says she believes me, then shakes her head on a sigh. “I could use another friend here.”

  Despite the way my cock aches to do more, I place a lazy arm over her shoulder and start to lead her towards the front door. “Then, let’s go.”

  “Where?” she asks cautiously.

  “Ye still owe me that date.”

  “Friends, remember?” she says, her tone a warning, still eyeing me apprehensively.

  I grin down at her, and agree. “Friends.” Then, I cock a brow and give her a heated look. “If ye don’t want to go out, we can always stay here.”

  “No.” A hint of a smile plays on her lips, but doesn’t quite break free. “The pub is fine.”

  And a hell of a lot safer if I’m going to keep my promise to keep my hands to myself.

  Chapter 9

  Makena

  Agreeing to go out with Shane after what just happened in the hallway is probably not the smartest decision I’ve ever made. Especially after Nora walked in on us. But holy hell…that kiss. It was insane. I’m still shaking from the intensity of it as I grab my purse from the kitchen.

  Trouble.

  Trouble.

  Trouble.

  My brain repeats the word, warning me not to walk out the door with the man. But I let him lead me outside.

  “That’s your car?” I ask, stepping out of the cottage and seeing the black Ferrari sitting in the driveway.

  He gives me one of his smirks. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  “She?”

  Opening the passenger door for me, he leans down and says softly against the shell of my ear, “Look at her curves. She’s pure feminine beauty, just waitin’ for the right hands to make her purr.”

  “Is everything sexual to you?”

  “Yes.” There go those dimples again, and the way his eyes twinkle with a mixture of playfulness and promise has me pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and glancing away. He murmurs, “Ye’re blushing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Ye are.”

  I am.

  My whole body reacts to the sexual energy that radiates off him. My knees wobble and my breath comes out rough. Our gaze
s tangle, and I find my pulse racing the longer they hold.

  I roll my eyes, breaking the connection, and duck into the car, hearing his faint chuckle as he shuts the door.

  “So, how’d ye come to be staying at Colleen’s house?” Shane asks when he gets in the driver’s side and turns the key in the ignition, reversing the car out of the driveway.

  I have to hold back a gasp as he accelerates, making the engine roar and my body vibrate.

  “It’s a house swap.” My voice cracks on the last word.

  “For how long?” He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, giving me a chance to study his profile. God, the man is sexy. Straight nose, full lips, dark hair that falls slightly over his forehead.

  “Six months.”

  One brow lifts. “That’s a long time. Don’t ye have a job back home?”

  There’s no condemnation in the question, just general curiosity. Still, my defenses go up.

  “I used to own a little boutique in the town I live in.”

  “Used to?”

  I shift in my seat and glance out the window. “I had to liquidate everything when Cha-” I stop myself from saying my ex’s name. “After my divorce. I didn’t have enough in savings to pay out my ex.”

  I feel, rather than see, Shane frown. “I thought he was some kind of celebrity. I would have thought it’d be ye who got a settlement.”

  I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “His success is recent. When we were married, my income was what supported us. Not only did he get half of all our savings and my business, but I also had to pay him a large sum in order not to have to pay spousal support for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s not right.”

  I shrug. “It’s the law.”

  “Still…”

  “Trust me, I feel the same way. Especially now that he’s…” I shake my head, feeling the stomach ulcer I recently acquired burn a path of acid up my esophagus. “I’d prefer not to talk about him.”

  Shane gives a small nod. “Tell me about yer business.”

  “It wasn’t anything big. The boutique started out more as a hobby.”

  “Ye sold clothes?”

  I nod. “And designed them.”