by Mari Carr
She needed him. Now.
When he chuckled, then tsked, she realized she’d made that demand out loud. She closed her eyes, part wince, part prayer. If he sought to teach her another lesson for trying to take control, she’d expire on the spot.
Fergus gentled the kiss, pulling away to look at her. “I had intended to torture you for a little while with the butt plug and vibrator I saw in your bag when I was rummaging for the scarf.”
As delicious as that sounded, she craved something much simpler. “Please,” she whispered, before realizing that he might take that request wrong.
She started to clarify, but he kissed her once more. Just a quick, hard meeting of the lips.
“Next time. I can’t even share you with a toy tonight,” he murmured, and Aubrey felt tears fill her eyes when he placed the head of his cock at her opening.
“Yes,” she hissed. “God. Yes.”
He thrust in without preamble or caution. One hard, rough shove forward and he was there, buried deep, filling her.
Of course, she was there too. Aubrey cried out loudly as she came, her back arched, her eyes clenched shut as everything inside her exploded bright white.
Fergus didn’t give her time to recover. Through her orgasm, he kept moving—retreat, return, retreat, return—each thrust harder, deeper.
Aubrey felt as if she were adrift in a stormy ocean, the waves and wind pummeling her, tossing her about. She was out of control, captive to the elements.
The orgasm simply kept going, and she struggled to figure out if it was the longest climax in history, or a million little ones, each coming on the heels of the one previous.
Her bound hands had fallen from him, resting on the pillow above her head.
Surrender.
Again.
Then, a hundred years later, Fergus was there, lost in the midst of that same sea, tumbling beneath the waves with her as he came. Her name on his lips as he filled her.
He made her want so much she’d never considered before—home, family, forever.
Fergus fell to her side, reaching up to untie her hands before pulling her against him, soft lips kissing her forehead.
They lay together quietly for a few moments, both lost in their thoughts, and nearly asleep.
Last night, Aubrey had faced the devil, terrified there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Tonight, she felt as if the skies had opened and shown her heaven.
She giggled softly.
“Something funny?” Fergus asked, his voice husky, deep. She knew it was based on exhaustion, but damn if her foolish body didn’t respond in a way neither of them had the strength for.
“When Erick grabbed me, and I saw the explosives, I thought we were going to go up in flames…and it terrified me. Tonight, we did. And all I want is to do it again. And again.”
Fergus tightened his grip on her, chuckling. “Why do I get the feeling a song is coming?”
Aubrey gasped, pushing up the second he said it, the faint tinkling of a melody playing in her mind. She hummed a little bit of it while turning toward the nightstand, where she’d seen a pen and notepad placed there by the hotel.
She quickly scribbled down a few words, though she knew there was no chance this song would escape her. It was already written on her heart.
“What are you writing?” he murmured.
Aubrey hadn’t mastered the ability to look at Fergus and not feel her heart skip a beat. He was handsome and so fucking sexy. Tonight, naked, in their bed, she could barely look away from his charming, dimpled grin.
“‘July Flames’. The heat, the explosion, the fire, the passion, then cool waves. The lyrics will seem to describe the month, but when the refrain hits, it’ll be clear it’s a love song,” she said. “A sexy one,” she added, putting down the notepad to return to his side.
They kissed for a few moments.
Then Fergus pulled away an inch or so and smiled. “I like it. Aubrey, I’m ready to burn again.”
Epilogue
“Well, now. This is a nice surprise indeed.” Pop Pop smiled as Fergus and Aubrey walked into the small living area/bedroom Riley and Aaron had added on to their house when his kids started to worry too much about him living alone in the apartment above the pub.
Fergus hadn’t been in the room since his return from the military, which was well over a year ago now. He’d never needed to make the journey here, able to share a pint with his grandfather in the pub a few times a week.
The security business had taken off, thanks in large part to his new fame as Aubrey’s bodyguard and boyfriend.
The day after Sunnie’s wedding, they’d moved into the Collins Dorm. Though he’d offered countless times to go apartment hunting with her, Aubrey continued to refuse, too enthralled by what it meant to live in a home with a real family. She, Yvonne and Sunnie had become thick as thieves, the three of them indulging in weekly “girls’ nights,” and Colm and Finn had given her a taste of what it meant to have overprotective brothers whenever fans overstepped.
“What brings the two of you here today?” Pop Pop asked when he noticed Aubrey had her guitar with her. It was actually the reason they’d come. “Are the two of you on the way to something?” Pop Pop gestured to her instrument.
“Nope. Just here. Aubrey finished the last song for her new album,” Fergus explained.
“I’d like to play it for you, Pop Pop,” she said, opening the case.
Pop Pop smiled widely. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. My own private concert.”
Aubrey pulled the chair out from the desk, while he and Pop Pop claimed the comfortable, overstuffed armchairs. Fergus hadn’t spent a lot of time here, in his grandfather’s living space, but there was no denying the man had made it cozy and welcoming.
Aubrey tuned her guitar briefly, then glanced at them when she was ready. Fergus had already heard the song a couple of times, but he knew that wasn’t going to keep the lump in his throat from forming when she strummed the first few bars.
“It’s called ‘Song for Sunday’,” she said.
Pop Pop’s eyes softened as he glanced in Fergus’s direction.
Shit. Forget the lump. Fergus would be lucky not to cry.
Aubrey had put Pop Pop and Sunday’s love to music. Fergus had watched her wrestle with the tune and lyrics for months, determined this song, her gift to his grandfather, would be perfect. In the end, she’d created the most incredible blend of Irish ballad and contemporary music, while the lyrics were a poem that spoke of a love that couldn’t be destroyed, not even by death.
When she finished, she looked up shyly. Fergus still marveled over the fact she didn’t truly realize how talented she was.
Pop Pop sat still for a moment, then he pulled a hankie out of his back pocket and cleared his throat, overcome with emotion. “Thank you, lass. That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.” His voice was thick with tears he didn’t bother to hide, allowing them to flow, even as he smiled. “Yes,” he said after a few minutes. “That was a most rare and special gift. I’ll cherish it forever, sweet girl.”
Aubrey sniffled as she reached for a tissue, wiping her eyes as well.
“It’s good that you’ve come by. I was hoping to show the two of you something.”
Pop Pop stood, directing them to one side of the room, as he explained to Aubrey, “This is my family wall.”
Fergus grinned. “I forgot about this. I haven’t seen it in years. You’ve got quite a lot of new pictures up here.” He looked at Aubrey to explain. “Everyone in our family is represented with a photo, but they’ve changed as we’ve grown older.”
“The old photos are tucked behind the new ones,” Pop Pop added. “I’ll admit some of those things are getting a bit thick. I worry about the frames holding all of them.”
Fergus followed the direction of his Pop Pop’s finger, reaching to take Aubrey’s hand when he saw what this grandfather wanted to show them.
“I thought the two of you might be intereste
d in my newest.”
“Look at that, Aubrey,” Fergus said, smiling. “You made the wall.”
Fergus heard Aubrey gasp, and he was confused when she said, “The wish. It came true!”
Pop Pop nodded. “It did indeed.”
“Wish?” Fergus asked.
New tears fell as Aubrey looked at Fergus. “The day I met your Pop Pop, he made a wish for me.”
“That she would one day look upon her true love the way your grandma Sunday was looking at me in that picture that hangs behind the bar.”
Fergus’s gaze returned to the photo, studying it more closely. It had been snapped at Sunnie’s wedding just after the ceremony, before dinner had been served. The two of them were standing by their table at the reception. He’d seen the photographer, but she hadn’t.
He was flashing the camera a grin, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, while Aubrey looked up at him…with so much love and affection, it took his breath away.
Fergus gave her a soft kiss. “We both won big on that wish.”
Pop Pop chuckled, then Aubrey turned back to the wall, asking questions about the other photographs.
For the next hour, Pop Pop told her all the love stories reflected in the photographs. Fergus, who’d been away too long, learned some of the details he’d missed while he was away. About Lucas trying to steal the pub from them, about Padraig and Mia’s trip to Paris, about how Lochlan didn’t want to hire May—the woman who’d obliterated his card-carrying bachelor status—as his PA at first.
The sun had set when they started gathering their things to go.
“You know,” Aubrey said to Fergus. “Your Pop Pop really does tell the best bedtime stories.”
Fergus shook his head, pointing to the wall. “He cheated again. Pictures.”
“Ah, lass, don’t be too hard on the lad. He’s still young. Of course, if you ever tire of his second-rate stories…” Pop Pop gave him the wink of a scoundrel.
“Pop Pop,” Fergus said, crossing his arms, his attempt at looking stern failing as his grin broke free. “You really need to stop trying to steal my girl.”
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About the Author
Writing a book was number one on Mari Carr’s bucket list and on her thirty-fourth birthday, she set out to see that goal achieved. Too many years later, her computer is jammed full of stories — novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends, and she has nearly a hundred published works, including her popular Wild Irish and Compass books, along with the Trinity Masters series she writes with Lila Dubois.
Virginia native Mari Carr is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller of contemporary erotic romance novels. With over one million copies of her books sold, Mari was the winner of the Romance Writers of America’s Passionate Plume award for her novella, Erotic Research.
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