Irish Breath (Irish Wolves Legacy #2)

Chapter 1

one

TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE COLORADO TRIP

GRAY

“How crazy has this day been?” Gray asked Mags and Blair as she fell onto the sectional where her friends were currently lounging. It wasn’t as comfy as the girls’ couch, but since they’d been asked to vacate their townhouse next door for the night, the slightly odiferous sofa would have to do.

Since finding out that their best friend, Bébhinn O’Faolain, had been stalked for almost two years, and that the freaky bastard had hidden a camera in the home they shared, specifically in Bébhinn’s bedroom, Gray and her roommates were staying with their guy friends until Gray and Blair’s fathers had their security company go through the whole house.

Gray shivered at the trauma her friend had been put through. The invasion of Bébhinn’s privacy was horrifying.

The stalker, a teacher from TU of all things, had been arrested. At least Bébhinn would have peace knowing the wacko was behind bars. Still, they were all feeling uneasy that he’d been in their house. Gray had even met him. He was a member of Bébhinn’s hiking club there in Dublin.

Her dad, Thomas MacGregor, and Blair’s dad, Coll Barr, owned the security company that had installed their own system in their old townhouse. The two fathers were pissed that someone had been able to plant a separate camera inside the house without their knowledge.

So, it was no surprise to her or her friends that they were getting a newer, much more elaborate system installed in the morning, which was why they were forced to sleep at their next-door neighbor’s place.

Not Bébhinn, of course, her new man—an older, very hot new man—got them a room at the Fitzwilliam while they were stuck having a stinky sleepover with Bébhinn’s cousins, Daniel and Jonathan O’Faolain, and Ciar Murphy, the third roommate and family friend.

She honestly didn’t mind. Bébhinn needed privacy and time away to heal.

All three of them were playboys, out with different women every other night. Still, the seven of them managed to be best friends. Their Irish, and American cultures blending seamlessly, and Russian on Ciar’s part.

Mags and Blair, being much shorter than Gray’s five-foot-nine, took the living room couches as their bed—the lucky bitches—but she was given Ciar’s room while he would sleep on Jonathan’s couch. Ciar was in his room now “tidying up,” but the Lord knows what that entailed.

She was prepared to wrap a bath towel around her body if the sheets didn’t look fresh. A shiver of disgust raced down her spine as pictures of cum stains peppering the bedding danced before her eyes.

Blair was lounging by her feet, so Gray nudged her with her toe to get her attention.

Blair was deaf, and it was second nature to let her know by touch if she was about to speak.

They all learned sign language as small children, and even though Blair was an excellent lip reader, it was dark outside, and the living room lights were low.

Gray signed, “Do you think Bébhinn is going to be okay?”

Blair sighed and rubbed her eyes. They were all exhausted. “It might take her a while, but she’s strong. I know the camera,” she winced, “was such a violation, but I think Dagr will help her move past it faster than anything else can.”

“Blair’s right,” Mags joined the conversation, stretched out on the longer of the couch sections. “As crazy as today’s revelations have been, I imagine Dagr’s giant dick will make everything feel better.”

“Jesus, Mags,” Daniel growled as he walked into the living room. “Please keep my aunt’s name and dick out of the same sentence.”

The O’Faolains were a convoluted mess of family tree branches. Daniel swiped Mags’ legs from the couch and sat down with a sigh. Jonathan joined soon after and sat by Gray, scooching Blair’s feet over and dropping an armload of sheets, pillows, and blankets for the girls to make up the couch.

Last to join the tired group was Ciar. “I’ve pulled an extra blanket from the cupboard. We tend to keep the house freezing at night.”

“And are the sheets questionable?” Mags questioned.

Gray swore that Ciar’s cheeks pinkened at the razzing. Daniel spoke up then. “Ciar’s never had a woman home. Isn’t that right, Murphy?”

Gray felt her brows raise in disbelief. All three guys were serious whores, so this news came as a surprise.

“Fuck off, Dan,” Ciar cursed. “I’ve an early morning meeting, so I’m off to bed. You better have cleaned off the shit covering your couch, Jon.”

“I did, ye grouchy bastard,” Jonathan mouthed back.

Had Gray not been watching, she would have missed Ciar’s wince. It was there and gone so quickly, she might have thought it was a trick of the shadows. Sad to admit, but she’d watched Ciar enough over the years that she’d learned his tells, and he didn’t care for Jonathan’s comment. At all.

Gray stood and thanked Ciar for lending her his room.

“I’m to bed as well. Thanks for giving up your bed to me, Ciar.

Night, everyone.” The girls hopped up and called dibs on Daniel’s bathroom, and with goodnights all around, Gray pressed down the handle of Ciar’s bedroom door and entered his space for the first time ever.

It was tidy but definitely rocked his laid-back vibe.

From the abstract, modern paintings to the plush wool rug covering most of the refinished wood floor, the black and cream theme screamed Ciar.

He had a small painting on a stand on his desk that was different than the other art hanging on the walls.

It was a six-by-six oil painting, in grayscale, of a landscape. She bent forward, trying to decipher the location. “Russia,” Gray muttered, which made sense. Ciar’s mother was Russian, though he had never spoken of her.

Gray used his en-suite bathroom before climbing into the crisp white sheets covering the massive, extra-large king-sized bed. Ciar was tall like Daniel and Jonathan but more heavily muscled. The guys were always razzing him for how many hours he spent in the gym.

Muscled and tattooed head to toe…delicious. She shook her head at where her thoughts had wandered. Yes, Ciar was handsome. His dark hair and darker eyes had mesmerized many a woman. Gray refused to be one of them.

Ciar could afford to live anywhere, with anyone, but the man was nothing but loyal to his childhood friends.

He was a few years older than Daniel, but according to Bébhinn, who had always lived in Dublin, Ciar and her cousins had been running rampant in the foggy streets of Dublin since they were children.

Gray might have grown up in Scotland, but her family was close to the O’Faolains and had attended all the same parties. Ciar and his father were considered family and had always been around.

She took a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head, trying to get comfortable. Mistake. Ciar’s unique scent filled her nose as soon as her chin dipped close to the pillowcase. That man smelled like, well, he smelled like a dirty dream.

It was some combination of spice and tobacco. The Dunhills that she had occasionally caught him smoking smelled good enough that she’d almost considered trying them herself. Of course, she didn’t, as she cared about her health, and her dad would kill her, but damn, they smelled good on that man.

She tossed and turned for what felt like days, but a glance at her phone revealed she’d only been rolling around Ciar’s bed for just under two hours. It was close to two in the morning, but sleep seemed as impossible as it had when she’d first lain down.

Kicking off the covers, she decided to go in search of water. The boys’ townhouse was the mirror of the girls’, and she was able to traverse the layout without light.

Finding the cabinet that held the glasses, she grabbed one, filled it with plain tap and leaned back against the sink and sipped the room temperature water.

It was much quieter than their house ever was in the evening.

The four girls either played music, ran box fans, or had a television’s drone for background noise.

Even Blair, whose life was silent, preferred music.

She said the low bass was soothing against her skin.

Gray was about to rinse her glass and put it in the sink when her ears picked up the soft shuffle of feet. Her skin instantly prickled in alarm, having just found out that a stalker had targeted one of her best friends, so when Ciar filled the doorway, her body tensed for a whole other reason.

“Christ, Gray. You scared the shit out of me,” Ciar announced once he cleared the threshold and noticed her presence.

She swallowed the moan swimming in her throat at the sight of Ciar dressed in tight, black boxer briefs. His heavily muscled chest and tattooed body, highlighted by the moonlight, had her heart pounding.

“I couldn’t sleep. You?” Gray asked with what she hoped was a casual tone.

“Jonathan is a snoring prick, and that couch may have cost a mint, but the bloody thing is shit to sleep on.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Damn, I feel even worse for taking your bed. Here I was, thinking about how quiet it was. Your bed is lovely, though,” she managed to tease without sounding flirty. She hoped. Ciar never needed to know she held even the slightest flame for him.

“I’ll trade you bunks,” he offered teasingly. “You done?” he asked, pointing at the half-empty glass of water in her hand.

At her nod, he took it and shot back the rest of the water. For some reason, that move felt awfully familiar and had her stomach clenching.

He was standing close enough to feel the warmth of his skin grazing hers. Up until this moment, she’d ignored that she was only wearing a thin, white sleep tank and barely there matching shorts, but when his eyes dipped to her chest, Gray’s body involuntarily arched toward his gaze.

She felt her nipples harden under his stare, which instantly flicked to her eyes. His black gaze skimmed to her tongue as she licked her suddenly dry lips.

He took a cautious step to the side, putting his chest parallel to hers. One of his tattooed hands gripped the sink’s edge at her back. She fisted her hands to stop from placing them against his sculpted chest, but as he moved infinitesimally closer to her lips, she gave in.

Without warning, she dragged her fingers over his hardened nipples, lightly scratching her nails against the raised bumps. His moan emboldened her exploration. He never moved, only his muscles, which jumped wherever her hands traced.

“Gray,” he breathed her name against her mouth. “Can I—”

She didn’t let him finish asking before closing the gap and licking into his mouth…and that was all it took. He took her mouth the way she’s never had it taken—deep, dirty, needing air but not caring.

He grabbed her ass and lifted her against him so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She whimpered at the pressure and heat between her thighs where his sex was hard, hot, and insistent.

“Ciar,” she moaned as he ground his hips against her.

“Christ, Gray, Christ.” His moan and raspy words were loud in the quiet house.

He bit her lip before licking back into her mouth. The fingers gripping and kneading her ass were slowly getting closer to where she needed them.

“Jesus, Ciar, are you watching porn in the fucking kitchen?” Daniel asked from the living room, startling the would-be porn stars a part.

Daniel must have given up his room for Mags and Blair. She felt her face burn hot at what they’d almost been caught doing and how close she’d been to letting it go way further. Ciar let her slide down his body but kept a firm grip on her hips.

“Fuck off,” Ciar barked. “Just getting some water and watching a video my buddy from the States sent. I’m back to bed.”

Daniel’s light snores were his only response. Gray’s shoulders sagged in relief. She wouldn’t have minded getting caught so much as she would have regretted it had they gone any further. She needed to know where Ciar’s head was first—the one above his shoulders.

Sensing the moment was over, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and whispered, “I’ll walk you back to my room.”

At her nod, they walked as quietly as possible to his door, both of them hesitating at the threshold.

Feeling out of her element and unsure of what to say with a man she’d known most of her life, she settled for, “Goodnight, Ciar.”

He didn’t answer until he’d tucked her long, wavy golden hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back in two days. Will you text me while I’m away?”

“Yes.”

“I…I,” he stuttered, “have a dinner meeting the night I get back, but the day after…will you meet me?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Yes.”