Wild Devotion

by Mari Carr

  “Dinner in bed? Really?” She began to push up excitedly, but Padraig pressed her down.

  “Stay there. I’ll make it.”

  For the first time since they’d entered the bedroom, Mia failed to follow a command. Probably because they were back to regular old Paddy and Mia, their sexual appetites sated for the time being.

  She sat up the same time he did. However, before he could leave the bed, she crawled closer to him, giving him a kiss. “Do you think we can do that again later?”

  He laughed. “The better question is, do you think we’re going to make it out of this bed to see the rest of Paris?”

  She grinned. “I wouldn’t mind.” Then her stomach growled, reminding him it had been hours since they last ate. His own hunger was starting to make itself known as well.

  “Stay put,” he said again, more firmly. “I’m making you dinner in bed.”

  “Okay.” She moved to pull down the messed-up bedding, propping herself up in a seated position with the pillows against the headboard.

  Padraig caught himself humming as he sliced off several chunks of cheese to put on a platter he’d found in one of the cabinets. He washed the grapes and strawberries and tossed the whole loaf of bread on, deciding they could rip off pieces to feed each other.

  Then he opened a bottle of rosé, placed two wineglasses and the bottle of wine on the tray, and carried the overladen thing to the bedroom.

  Mia had turned on the bedside lamps, and he noticed late afternoon had given way to evening. They relived their day as they ate and then turned off the lights, falling into each other’s arms again.

  The second time, he was able to give her gentle. They kissed and tickled and moved slowly, but at the end, the climax was just as powerful, just as earth-shattering.

  He’d found her. His one true love.

  And the clock was ticking.

  10

  April 26

  * * *

  Mia stood near a window in the funicular, watching as they rose higher and higher above the city. Today’s plan was to see Sacré-Coeur and explore Montmartre. They’d added the tourist spot after seeing images of it on a travel site online. It looked exactly like Mia’s idea of Paris. Romance and beauty.

  She couldn’t wait to reach the top, peering anxiously through the trees to try to catch a glimpse of the cathedral. Trees were obscuring some of the view, but as they continued to rise, she was impressed to see more and more of the town below.

  Padraig stood next to her. However, he was looking at her rather than the passing scenery.

  She smiled while keeping her eyes glued to what was outside. “You know you’re missing a lot,” she warned, letting him know she was aware of his staring.

  Last night had been incredible. It had been so long since she’d fallen asleep in a man’s arms. And even then…well…nothing she’d ever experienced came close to how she felt wrapped up in Padraig’s strong embrace. While he was considerably larger than her, that size never intimidated. Instead, she felt sheltered, safe.

  Mia had spent the years since her grandmother’s death protecting herself. She had always believed her independence made her strong. She could see now all it had done was leave her lonely.

  She’d wallowed in that state for so long, she hadn’t even realized that was what it was. She hadn’t felt alone since the night Padraig had followed her out of the pub. In the course of a single day, she’d discovered the worst and best things in her life.

  “I’m not missing a damn thing.” Padraig placed his hand on her waist and tugged her closer, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. He hadn’t shaved since they’d left the States, claiming it was his “God-given duty as a Caps fan” to let the beard grow until they got knocked out of the Stanley Cup playoffs. While she wasn’t a fan of the Caps, she was a huge fan of the beard, so for the first time in her life, she was rooting against her beloved Blackhawks.

  Since waking up this morning, Padraig had managed to touch her no less than a million times. Sweet kisses, silly tickles, hair ruffles, hand-holding.

  The funicular reached the top, reminding Mia that she’d missed the last half of the view outside as well. At this rate, she and Padraig would have been better served staying in bed.

  “Behave,” she warned him when his hand slipped from her lower back to her ass. “You’re distracting me from Paris.”

  He laughed and clasped their hands, leading her from the funicular. “Come on. Let’s see this cathedral of yours.”

  As they rounded the small path that led to Sacré-Coeur, the soft sounds of music caught her attention.

  Once they reached the top, the world opened up in wondrous splendor. All of Paris lie beneath them, buildings seemingly stacked on top of each other, touching every square inch of the landscape. It was an array of colors and shapes and bright sunlight as far as the eye could see.

  That was when Mia realized the music was still playing. A street musician sat several feet away playing an honest-to-God harp. Mia had never heard anything more beautiful.

  “The Titanic song?” Padraig asked.

  She nodded. “‘My Heart Will Go On’.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, his cheek pressed against the side of her head, very much like Leo did with Kate in the movie, and together they took it all in.

  Words weren’t necessary. The place said everything.

  Mia didn’t bother to stem her tears. After weeks of crying in sorrow, today she was crying with utter joy.

  Minutes passed as they soaked up the magic of it—the harp, the song, the cityscape, the sunshine.

  They didn’t stir until the last strains of the song faded.

  Padraig whispered in her ear. “I think we found our song.”

  She smiled, swallowing deeply to lodge the lump forming there. “This is the most perfect moment of my life. If I could freeze time, it would be right now. Right here. With you.”

  Padraig kissed her cheek, not mentioning the wetness he found there. She turned to face him, giving him a much more meaningful kiss, trying to prove to him how much all of this truly meant to her.

  Padraig cupped her cheeks as they parted, pressing his forehead against hers. “If I was freezing time, it would have been last night. Watching you sleep.”

  He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before leaning closer to whisper, “After I rocked your world.”

  She laughed as he pulled away and gave her a mischievous wink. Only Padraig could take a happy moment and make it even better. Finding a way to add laughter to the joy.

  “I love you.”

  The words came out without thought, without regard to the fact they hadn’t been spoken before. She didn’t care. She felt it. And she wasn’t going to hide anything from him. Life was too short to play games, even without a brain tumor.

  “I love you too, Mia. So much it hurts.”

  She understood that sentiment. Even now, her heart ached at the thought of leaving. Not just Paris, but…life.

  It was a cruel irony that she’d found forever at the end.

  Mia pushed the thought away before it could even land. Her illness had no place here. She would have plenty of time to consider death. Later.

  Right now, she was going to focus on life.

  She turned back toward the view, marveling anew. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Me, either,” Padraig agreed. “Thank you, Mia.”

  Mia looked at him curiously. “Thank you?”

  “For making that list. For dreaming big. For letting me tag along.”

  She laughed. “I’m letting you tag along? And here I was, thinking you were dragging me through that list. Helping me leave this life without regrets. I’m the one who should be saying thanks, Paddy. Everything about this trip has been a dream come true.”

  “Everything?” he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Thought you outgrew all that horny stuff in high school.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Who
said that? Jesus. Don’t you know? Men get worse with age when it comes to sex, not better.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “So noted. Come on. Let’s go take a closer look at the cathedral.”

  After an hour or so of touring the grounds of Sacré-Coeur, Padraig suggested they find a café in Montmartre for lunch.

  They held hands as they slowly meandered along the steep cobblestone streets of the town.

  “What goes up, must come down,” Padraig murmured on one particularly steep side street.

  “I didn’t realize we’d gone so far uphill. The funicular made it look quick and easy.”

  “What do you say we grab a table there?” Padraig pointed to a small café on the corner that had outdoor seating situated on the smaller side street. It looked private and quaint and perfect for a quiet, romantic lunch.

  They claimed one of the tables and, after perusing the menu, they ordered a bottle of wine and escargot to start.

  “Have you ever had escargot?” Padraig asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Never. I just thought it sounded like something we should eat in France.”

  He laughed and handed her his cell phone. “You’re gonna have to get a picture of me eating them or else Colm will never believe it. He constantly gives me shit for my meat-and-potatoes existence.”

  When the food arrived, they both made a face at the escargot served in shells.

  “Well,” Padraig said, picking up the tiny fork, “on the bright side, I’m pretty sure these things are swimming in butter.”

  He and Mia both stabbed one of the snails, taking a bite at the same time.

  “Oh my God,” Mia exclaimed, Padraig’s face reflecting her response.

  “Holy shit! That might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  Mia nodded, agreeing. “We need to order more.”

  He didn’t even laugh. Padraig was already going back for another. “Is that garlic butter?”

  “I think so.”

  The two of them polished off the plate of escargot—and an entire bottle of wine—with relish, then continued to explore Montmartre, shopping for souvenirs. Padraig found a bright yellow Tour de France flag to hang in the bar and some cool scarves for his mom and aunts.

  They caught a cab back to the city center and found a nice restaurant for dinner near their apartment. By the time they returned home, Mia’s feet were killing her.

  “How far do you think we walked today?”

  Padraig shrugged. “Miles, I suspect.”

  They kicked off their shoes near the front door and she limped over to the couch. Padraig started to follow her, then detoured to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of wine.

  “Mother’s milk,” she joked, then sighed after taking a sip.

  Padraig claimed the other end of the couch, lifting her bare feet to pull them over his lap. They drank in relative silence as both of them let the wine work out some of the kinks left behind after their busy day.

  Because they were back in the apartment, and because Padraig’s touches and kisses had kept her body simmering with anticipation all day, her mind went straight to sex.

  “So…” she started. “Last night was a bit of a surprise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mia grinned. “You’re such a teddy bear all day long, but put you in the bedroom and man…it’s an entirely different story.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

  “And you’re not hearing me complain now. It’s just you’re so easygoing and sweet.” She pointed toward the bedroom. “Where does that guy come from?”

  “Define ‘that guy’,” he said, clearly enjoying her comments.

  “Well, we’re in Paris, so I actually have a pretty great comparison, even if it is Disney and way too G-rated for what we did last night. You go into full Beast mode, with that deep voice and the commands and total control.”

  “Did I scare you?”

  She laughed, the sound full of incredulity. “Not even a little bit. God, it was a total turn-on. Maybe you noticed that part at the end where I thought my body was going to explode into a million pieces. The whole thing was just so…” She paused, trying desperately to find a word that would describe something that was ultimately indescribable. “So perfect.”

  “Mia.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Put the wineglass down.”

  The tone had returned. And just like that, the weariness left behind after a day of playing tourist vanished. She set the wineglass on the coffee table, watching as he did the same. She felt a bit like the prey, waiting for the attacker to make his move.

  Only she wasn’t afraid.

  Her feet were still on Padraig’s lap and he used that to his advantage, gripping her ankles and using them to tug her until she was flat on her back on the couch. Then he parted her legs, coming down between them, caging her beneath him. His much larger size never seemed more apparent than these times, when she was buried beneath Mt. Padraig.

  Padraig kissed her roughly. She could taste the passion, the desire. She’d never felt so adored or wanted. It was a heady thing.

  Mia lifted her hands to his hair, but Padraig captured her wrists and pressed them to the cushion by her head.

  “Leave them there.”

  She kept them where he placed them, even after he released her. Mia loved this feeling, reveled under his command. It felt good to let someone else take control. She was so freaking tired of constantly carrying every load alone.

  Here with Padraig, she could trust him to give her what she needed without fear of being hurt—emotionally or physically. He cared about her, and she craved that attention more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

  “God,” she whispered when their lips parted briefly.

  Padraig smiled at her reverent tone. “I can’t get enough of you, Mia.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  “How would you feel about expanding on some of those X-rated Beauty and the Beast games?”

  She giggled. “Be my guest.”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head at her corny joke. “You’re adorable. And mine.”

  “Yours.” She wanted to say that, to try it on for size. She’d never given herself to anyone so completely. Part of her wondered if it was because she was dying. It would stand to reason that her usual fears about commitment had faded away.

  She rejected that idea instantly. This had nothing to do with dying. It had everything to do with loving Padraig. She loved him. Completely.

  Mia was surprised when Padraig didn’t continue the kiss. Instead, he sat up and looked around the room. She wondered what was going on inside his wicked mind when he gave her a grin that bordered on dangerous then stood up.

  He walked over to the curtains. They were a chintz pattern covered with faded pink and blue flowers that looked like they’d been there at least thirty years. They were held open by two braided beige curtain ties that he slid free. Then he helped himself to a second set of ties as she watched.

  Her heart beat faster as she nervously—and excitedly—waited to see what he would do next.

  Padraig offered her a hand, helping her rise from the couch. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

  She followed him, her gaze dropping down to the ropes in his hand.

  “Bondage,” he said when they reached the room.

  “What?”

  Padraig pointed to the bed. “It’s a four-poster. Haven’t been able to get that fact out of my head all damn day.”

  “You want to tie me up?”

  “Naked. Spread-eagle.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “But only if you want to,” Padraig hastened to add.

  “Wow.”

  He tossed the ropes onto a chair in the corner and stepped closer to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s too soon for that. I’m sorry.”

  She laughed. “You need to work on reading tone better. That wasn’t a horrified ‘wow’. Get the ropes.”


  Padraig studied her face, trying to decide if she was being honest. Her face was hot, a sure sign she was flushed.

  “Hurry up,” she prodded as she reached down to pull off her shirt. “Naked, you say?”

  “Wow,” Padraig echoed when her shirt and bra hit the floor.

  She had no trouble interpreting his tone. Especially when she shrugged off her jeans and panties. Padraig hadn’t moved a step as she undressed, his gaze traveling up and down and back up again.

  His appreciative look gave her courage, made her feel like a seductress. Mia climbed onto the bed, lying on her back. Padraig didn’t blink as she lifted her arms above her head, then opened her legs, displaying herself to him.

  “Like this?” she asked, her voice husky with need.

  The sound triggered the alpha male in Padraig. He walked to the chair to reclaim the ropes before returning to her. Kneeling on the mattress, he looped a braided cord around each of her wrists before tying them to the corner posts at the head of the bed. Then he repeated the action, securing her ankles to the footboard.

  She tested the knots even though she had no intention of trying to break the bonds. Regardless, Padraig wasn’t messing around. The ropes held tight.

  He stood at the foot of the bed simply looking at her. She’d never felt more adored. If eyes could caress, his were stroking her into a frenzy.

  Mia wiggled slightly, wishing he hadn’t tied her legs so far apart. She needed some sort of stimulation, something to calm the storm brewing.

  “Padraig,” she whispered.

  He was still fully dressed, that fact playing on her emotions, making her feel possessed. Owned. Only not in a bad way.

  The beast had returned. And from the hungry look in his eyes, she could see he was ready to claim what was his.

  “Don’t talk, Mia. Or I’ll gag you as well.”

  Her inner minx was somewhat tempted to force his hand on that. When Padraig reached into his suitcase and withdrew the single tie he’d packed, she thought perhaps he’d decided to do that anyway. Until the tie was placed over her eyes instead of her mouth.

  A blindfold.

  Mia wasn’t aware of how much she relied on her vision until he took it away. She opened her mouth to speak, then recalled he’d taken that away as well. Not with an actual gag, but with his words, his command.