Chapter Twenty-One
Savannah
Rylan gives Noreen the rest of the evening off while our dinner finishes cooking. Once Noreen gathers her things and leaves with a wave and a cheeky “Don’t let the mess get too big,” the two of us settle at the large dining table, plates in front of us and a comfortable silence hanging in the air.
It doesn’t last long. Rylan isn’t one to let silence linger.
“Alright.” He cuts into the silence and leans back in his chair, his fork twirling lazily between his fingers. “Would you rather have to fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”
I nearly choke on my wine, setting the glass down quickly before any spills. “What?”
“You heard me.” A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “It’s a serious question. Life-or-death stakes here.”
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “One horse-sized duck. Fewer moving targets. What about you?”
“The hundred duck-sized horses,” he replies without missing a beat. “I’d corral them and open up a miniature pony ranch.”
My shoulders convulse and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I cover my mouth to contain the laughter I can’t seem to stop. “That’s not how this works!”
“Sure it is,” he says, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re just not thinking outside the box, mo stóirín.”
And just like that, the weight of everything we've been through lifts from my shoulders, and the atmosphere between us feels lighter. We trade questions and ridiculous answers, the conversation flowing easily, filled with laughter and the occasional snarky comeback. By the time we finish eating, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt
this . . . normal.
“Alright,” I stand and begin stacking our plates. “I’ll clean up. Noreen has enough to do around here.”
“Technically, you are my guest.” He rises to follow me into the kitchen. “So that means it’s okay to let my housekeeper help with the cleanup.”
“Technically. ” I roll my eyes as I start running the water in the sink. “You’re a grown man who can help with dishes.”
“Fine, fine.” He leans against the counter with a smirk. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
Amused by his playful tone, I turn my attention back to the soapy water and the plates in front of me. He’s quiet for a moment, and I think maybe he’s finally behaving. But then I feel him behind me—close, too close. His hands brush against my hips as he leans in, his breath warm against my neck.
“Rylan.” I try to sound stern, but my voice wavers as he presses a soft kiss to the curve of my neck. “I’m trying to clean up.”
“Mm.” His lips trailing downward. “You can keep cleaning.”
I try to push him away, but it’s a half-hearted attempt at best. “Rylan . . .”
“What?” he asks, his tone feigning innocence. “I ate all my dinner. Doesn’t that mean I get dessert?”
I snort, shaking my head as he nuzzles against me. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he admits, his hands slipping around my waist to pull me closer. “But you like it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the words catch in my throat when he kisses my shoulder. A shiver runs through me, and I grip the edge of the counter for balance. Damn him and his smug confidence.
“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, though it lacks any real heat.
“And yet,” he teases, “you’re not telling me to stop.”
Before I can respond, he scoops me up effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. A surprised laugh escapes me as he strides over to the island and swipes pots and pans off its surface in one fluid motion. The metallic clatter barely registers when he sets me down on the cool countertop, his lips never leaving mine.
“Rylan,” I mumble against his mouth, trying to sound indignant, but he silences me with a kiss that makes my toes curl.
He gently guides me to lie back, his hands sliding up my thighs as he pushes my dress higher. His lips trail down my neck, leaving a line of fire in their wake, and I gasp when he pauses just below my collarbone.
When he finally reaches the hem of my dress, he smirks. “No underwear, mo stóirín?”
I meet his gaze with an arched eyebrow. “You didn’t pack any for me, and there’s none in the drawers in my room.”
His grin widens mischievously, a glint of playful intent in his eyes, as he leans in even closer, the warmth of his presence nearly tangible. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you’re thoroughly punished later for that.”
Before I can come up with a snarky reply, he moves lower. His lips and hands leave no inch of my skin untouched while he roves and explores my body. His warm breath fans against my thighs as he settles between them, his eyes dark with hunger.
“Time for dessert,” he murmurs, his voice thick, as he begins exploring me with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt.