All I Want is You_A Second Chance Romance

by Carter Blake

  “You better get used to it, Becks. That’s all you’ll be having for a while. No alcohol for you.”

  “So, when’re you giving it up?” I prompt and take a sip from my mug.

  “Me, give it up?” Killian feigns a pain to the heart and clutches it with both hands. “What’re you trying to do to a healthy man, lassie?”

  I grin. “I think it’s called support?”

  “Support? How can I be supportive without a fecking drink?”

  He looks way more fucking funny than he has any right to as he’s still clutching his heart.

  “I can be supportive, but if you take my drink, well, support will go out the window.”

  “Can’t have that, then, can we?” I rub his left upper arm to show sympathy. “We wouldn’t want you to collapse in a heap. I mean, what would happen to me if you were, you know...”

  I stop because I was about to burst out laughing again. His crestfallen look is priceless.

  “Trust me, Becks,” he says and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be supportive all the way, as long as I’ve got me whisky.”

  I nod.

  His lips on my cheek are tugging at my insides again. With his face still within easy reach, all I need to do is turn my head slightly to the right for our lips to meet.

  And in slow motion, I start turning my head.

  Killian

  Feck.

  Had someone moved those steps or added an extra one? Whatever they’ve done, they’re fucking messing with my head here—and my feet. I mean, those steps could kill a man.

  Lucky for me, I’ve got lightening reflexes. I can save myself from falling down those last two steps. I swear they weren’t there last time I was here.

  From what I can tell, Rebecca didn’t notice anything was amiss. Or she’s simply too fucking polite to point out what a klutz I am. Maybe it’s a combination of both.

  We leave the pub behind us and walk home.

  I gave Ida the day off.

  When I took her out of the stable this morning, she had looked a little sore.

  “How’s Ida?” Rebecca asks on cue, and I glance at her sideways.

  Is she a witch? Does she actually have warts and green hair, and I just didn’t notice?

  “Um...She looked a little sore this morning. I think she needs a new set of shoes, but the farrier can’t come till later in the week.”

  “Poor thing. Hope she’s okay.”

  For a while, we walk in silence.

  I love the feel of her body next to me. It’s more intoxicating than a whisky.

  “Look,” I say and point ahead of us. “Here is where you hit me, nearly killed me.”

  In horror, Rebecca brings her hand to her mouth.

  “Oh god, don’t remind me,” she mumbles. “I still have nightmares about that accident. I mean, imagine if I’d seriously hurt you.”

  I turn to her and grab her hands.

  “But you didn’t seriously hurt me. You only hurt me this much.”

  I have to let go of her to indicate the width with both hands. After I’ve made my point, I reach for her hand again. We continue walking side by side, holding hands.

  It feels fucking good to hold her hand. I almost hate how good it fucking feels.

  “So, what’s life like around here?” she asks.

  I can feel her eyes on me, and I shoot her another sideways look.

  What is life like around here?

  Wouldn’t she have some idea by now?

  I’m honestly not sure how to fucking answer this.

  One would think she just asked me to multiply five million six hundred and fifty-six thousand by three hundred and eighty-eight.

  Actually, I might have some hope of being able to answer a multiplication question. I mean, a multiplication question has a specific answer—and if I reach for my phone I can work it out.

  For this question, there’s nothing to reach for except my own thoughts.

  “You know, it’s great,” I reply knowing goddamn well that it sounds fucking lame.

  She laughs, and I can feel her squeeze my hand.

  “Okay. Tell me more about these great days you have here.”

  After an inward grumble, I try and think of something to say. “It’s nice. It’s peaceful and…you know.”

  There, I had strung about three words together.

  “If I didn’t know you were a writer,” she says, nuzzling into me, “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Don’t you like it? Are you living here because, you know…”

  She’s not making fun of the way I answered. She’s implying something else.

  It’s as clear as all those fucking stars in the sky right now what she means.

  She wants to know if I’m living here because I’m hiding from life.

  I shake my head.

  “No. I’m from here. But that’s still a tough fucking question to answer. Whether I like it, why I like it...you’ve put me on the spot. It’s like someone asking you for your phone number and even though you know it, you can’t straight away think of it because it’s kind of buried deep in your memory.”

  “Wow. There are some great ideas there.”

  “How about you?” I decide to change the subject. “Your life in the USA—what’s that like?”

  The clouds I’ve seen in her eyes before return. I’m almost sorry I’ve asked.

  “Unlike you, I can’t say it’s been nice.”

  She pauses. I don’t think it’s for dramatic effect. She seems to be walking down her own memory lane, picking and choosing what she’s going to share with me.

  I’m okay with that.

  “So, my marriage was shit. And I think when a large part of your life is shit, most of your life seems that way. I mean, that’s the reason I came here—I needed to get away from the toxicity of him and all that was associated with him...and the city, I guess.”

  I don’t say anything. I listen. My thumb is caressing the top of her hand.

  “Negativity is a real and destructive thing. It seems to invade everything. Before you know it, you wake up negative, you spend the day negative, and you go to bed negative.”

  She sounds lost in thought.

  We keep walking side by side, two kindred spirits who’ve found each other after being lost in the woods for so long.

  “Negativity breeds negativity. It’s really hard being creative when the world around you is negative and toxic.”

  “But things are better now?” I press.

  She nods.

  “Things are definitely better. This place, everything is amazing.”

  I suddenly know what to say.

  “The best thing about living here is your freedom. I mean, you don’t have far to go to leave civilization behind and get in touch with nature. Getting in touch with nature cleanses you. At least, it cleanses me.”

  Rebecca nods.

  “And Ida helps,” I add. “Being responsible for another living being adds another dimension to life. And not just any being, but a truly noble majestic being.”

  “Have you had her long?”

  I chuckle.

  “Let me put it this way. I don’t remember my life without her. Ever since she came into my life, it’s not been the same again. I swear sometimes, I think she’s possessed, the way she can read me; my grandmother reincarnated.”

  She laughs, a soft laugh.

  “I’ve always wanted a horse,” she mumbles and descends into silence again.

  “Well...” I clear my throat. “Ida seems to like you, which is like a big deal. You can always share her, now that we’ve got you know...”

  Okay, it’s best I stop there.

  “What does an author do all day?”

  It’s probably a good thing she doesn’t pick up that last conversational thread where I dropped it.

  “Read, write, read, write—and did I mention I read?”

  Rebecca shakes her head. “What do you like to read?”

  I mull over the question.

  “
It’s not so much reading what I like to read. I think the trick is to read widely, read out of your comfort zone, and most importantly, read every book like a writer.”

  “Wow.”

  “But,” I say, leaning into her, “I confess I do like some of the Irish authors. I’m partial to Niall Williams, and who doesn’t like Maeve Binchy?”

  Her hair smells of sweetness, desire, and a field of wildflowers in full bloom.

  I kiss the top of her head. The silkiness of her hair is like a balm to my soul.

  All I can think of is running my fingers through her hair and pulling that face of hers close to mine for a kiss. Before I can act on my impulse, she starts to trip.

  It plays out in slow motion.

  Arms flail as her upper body bends forward at the hips. Just in time, I manage to grab her arm and shoulder.

  But I’m not fast enough.

  All I’m able to do is slow the inevitable and soften her landing. Together, as one, we land in the dirt on the side of the road, and she rolls on top of me.

  “You okay?” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.

  For some reason, I’m choked up with emotions, and no words escape my lips.

  I nod.

  With my right hand, I brush a strand of hair out of her face while my left one caresses her cheek. My thumb finds her lip.

  I can feel her breathing become short and shallow.

  Finally, my voice obeys me again. “And you?”

  “Never better,” she whispers.

  I watch as her mouth comes closer. Her lips are parted, and I can see the tip of her tongue poke through between those pearly white teeth.

  She comes crushing down on me, and instantly, our tongues are locked in a dance of passion. As we kiss, I let my hand travel up her back and unclasp her bra. With easy access, I move around to her front and push up under the flimsy material to find her tight nipples.

  A moan escapes her lips, a moan smothered by our kiss.

  Time suddenly stands still.

  There’s nothing else but Rebecca’s body, her lips and this kiss.

  I wish this moment would last forever.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shooting star, and I make a wish.

  I wish for my own happily ever after and for this kiss to go on.

  Rebecca

  His lips.

  God his lips feel amazing. I can’t deny it.

  He’s a damn good kisser. Not too soft and not too aggressive. My face doesn’t feel like it’s being coated in saliva either.

  Unlike with some fucking assholes.

  The kiss is so good that I moan a little.

  He groans in response.

  Killian’s muscular arms wrap around me as he continues to kiss me. He pulls me closer to him, and I can feel his arousal against my belly. My body responds with a shiver of pleasure.

  I’m starting to feel overheated, and I don’t think it’s because of that coffee I drank. My nipples harden, and liquid heat rises from down below.

  My arms seem to have a mind of their own, rising to grip his head and deepen the kiss further.

  I pull his hair, and he responds by holding me tighter.

  The urge to jump on him and wrap my legs around him overcomes me.

  Bad Rebecca. Do not do that.

  It drives me freaking crazy, the way he can make me think of nothing but what he’s doing to me—and the way my body is desperate to respond to his touch.

  I don’t want to stop kissing him. It feels too good to even consider wanting to stop.

  But that thought, the thought of not wanting to stop, is like a bucket of ice water dumped on me. I gasp, and finally push him away.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  Fuck.

  I would’ve never expected my time in Ireland to turn out like this.

  The one thing I rationally hoped for, to get some work done on one of my biggest contracts yet, hasn’t really come to pass.

  Okay. There’s no way to pretend I’ve even started on that.

  But these rolling green meadows have brought me somewhere I never would’ve expected to end up. They’ve brought me here.

  I hadn’t been able to predict this, so I should stop pretending to be able to predict anything. But I’m not ready to make any more grand decisions.

  Not now.

  Killian’s regarding me with tenderness, with concern—and that’s not helping my attempt at keeping a rational goddamn thought process going.

  Rationality seems too difficult when he’s right here, underneath this gorgeous night sky.

  With the memories of Killian bringing me to new realms of pleasure still so fresh in my mind, my cheeks burn, and I glance away from him, letting out a little cough for emphasis.

  Things are moving too fast with him. It’s not fair to Killian either, to lead him on.

  I blame the damn night. This beautiful, temperate damn spring night. With air that’s so clean and rich you feel like you’ll live to be a hundred and fifty just by breathing it every day.

  I’m not even sure why everyone in Ireland likes to drink so much.

  This place is plenty intoxicating as it is.

  And just like intoxication with alcohol, intoxication by moonlight, by natural beauty, by the aroma of the green pastures surrounding us, can be a problem.

  Intoxication is a crazy bitch that makes you do crazy things.

  Killian is standing there waiting for me to say something.

  “Uh, maybe we should head back inside. It’s pretty cold out, and the last thing either one of us needs is to catch a cold,” I state.

  Killian looks at me.

  Assessing me.

  Slowly, that damn cocky grin appears on his face.

  The nighttime silence is broken with his low chuckle.

  “It’s pretty cold out here, love. I’ll walk you back home.”

  “Ok. Home. Home is good,” I awkwardly say as we start to walk in the general direction of our cottages.

  When we get to my door, I’m going to shake his hand and say goodnight.

  Leave him outside of your cottage, Rebecca. Don’t let him in.

  My hands twitch at my side as we walk.

  Not because I’m nervous, but because I can’t stop thinking of running my hands through his hair again. Then over his well-sculpted chest.

  I shake my head.

  The heat and arousal has consumed my body again. It’s just the clean, unspoiled Irish air.

  Killian moves closer to me and brushes against my arm.

  I jump slightly. My skin feels sensitive, and his arm brushing against mine causes a full-body shiver to roll through me.

  And it feels so fucking good.

  The cottage appears in the distance—the front porch light is on.

  Crisp night air fills my lungs. Wisps of grass brushes against our shoes.

  Neither one of us says anything, but an odd air of unease fills the air between us.

  Finally, we arrive at my front doorstep. Keys clink as I try to unlock the door. I can feel Killian’s presence behind me.

  Suddenly, I feel his warm breath brush the back of my neck. But then it starts to feel cold again.

  Like he’s backing away. Like he’s leaving.

  That should be just fine by me—but I can’t get myself to go inside.

  “Are you leaving?” I ask, still facing the door.

  “Isn’t that what you’d like?”

  His voice sounds like he’s stopped dead in his tracks now, waiting to hear what I have to say next.

  I stay facing the door. “Why would you think that, Killian?”

  “You’re not even looking at me, Becks. What am I supposed to think?”

  One thing I can say about Killian is that he makes valid points when he wants to. I spin around to find him standing ten feet away, half turned towards his cottage, still waiting with baited breath to see what else I have to say.

  “Why don’t you just come inside, Killian? We both obviously wan
t that. And we both obviously understand that it’s just...fun.”

  “Is that how you really feel?”

  “It’s just sex, Killian. No feeling and no emotions. Just pleasure and fun between two adults.”

  Killian nods calmly, taking a few tentative steps towards my cottage.

  “I can handle that.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Rebecca?”

  “Yeah?”

  Killian stops, the moment he steps on my front porch, smiling impishly as I stare at him.

  “Open the door, love, so I can take your sweet ass to bed now.”

  Lock clicks.

  Feet over the threshold.

  Killian moves past me. Front door slams close with us inside. In the next moment, Killian has me pressed against a wall, his lips crash into mine.

  I pull on his hair.

  Now, I’ve decided to give into the burning desire Killian creates in me every time I’m around him. I’m desperate for everything.

  For his kiss. For his skin to be pressed against mine.

  For him to be inside me and for the exquisite pleasure I know only he can give me.

  Our lips break away. I lift his shirt up, and he helps in pulling it off completely. His hands grip the front of my shirt, and he rips it open.

  Buttons go flying.

  “Jesus. You’re gorgeous,” Killian states as he stares at me.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I respond staring at his toned and chiseled chest.

  Killian grabs me by the hips, lifting me up. My legs immediately wrap around his waist. Rocking my hips against him, I can feel his arousal through his jeans.

  He’s definitely well-endowed.

  “Killian. I need you. Now!”

  He groans. We start moving towards the bedroom.

  He throws me down on the mattress. I bounce and let a playful giggle out. I sit up, looking him in the eyes, as I throw my shirt off.

  Arms reach back.

  Bra clasp unclips. Slowly, I slide the straps off my shoulders.

  I know it’s seductive by the way Killian’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate.

  “Lie back, love. I’ll be the one to take care of the rest of your clothes,” Killian rasps.

  I do as he says. His fingers caress me from my neck, down my chest, over my stomach, and pause at the edge of my jeans.