Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“ L ori.”
It takes me a long time to realize a voice is calling my name over and over again. I open my eyes and groan against the sudden brightness blinding me for a second.
“Am I dead and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel?” My voice sounds hoarse and cracks in places. There’s a scratching sensation at the back of my throat that makes it hard to speak.
The male voice laughs. “I’m glad to say you’re pretty much alive though your little diving adventure could have taken a different turn.”
I sense the shift in his mood before Patrick’s features sharpen into focus. I look around me, still a little groggy. “Where am I?”
The room with its modern charcoal furniture and an open fireplace where hungry flames are lapping at huge wood logs looks nothing like a hospital. The four-poster bed is bigger than mine and the open door to the right gives a glimpse into a walk-in closet.
“My bedroom,” Patrick says. “You were on the brink of hypothermia and I didn’t have time to switch on the heating so I lit a fire.”
I glance from the crackling logs to the man sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks both sheepish and a little uncomfortable, probably mentally begging me not to speak out the obvious.
But shutting up for the sake of it has never been my forte.
“That reminds me, you removed all the logs from my room. You were going to let me freeze to death.” I raise my brows. “What was that all about?”
“Technically it’s too warm to freeze to death, but you might have ended up with a bit of frostbite.”
“You play dirty.”
He grimaces. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments. I ended up saving your life last night though. So, the way I see it, I should be forgiven. Let’s bury the hatchet.”
“For good?”
He nods. “For good.”
“No more playing dirty.” I hold out my hand and he grabs it, his long fingers caressing my skin in the process. My skin tingles where he’s touching me, sending my temperature soaring.
Patrick leans over me and brushes a stray strand out of my face. The look in his eyes is tender, almost affectionate. I realize I could get lost in those eyes, never to be found again. I’m desperately afraid of falling for him while, at the same time, I don’t think I can let him pass by.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his tone as gentle as his expression.
“A little worse for wear but otherwise good,” I whisper because his proximity takes my breath away. “What happened? I don’t remember anything after falling overboard.”
“Is that what you did? I thought you had jumped in to save Seamus.” His eyes flicker with amusement.
“I wish,” I mumble. “Trust me to almost find my untimely demise on a rescue mission.”
“You almost did,” he says. “If I hadn’t seen you and fished you out of the water the current could have swept you miles away and we wouldn’t have found you in the darkness.”
I shudder at the thought that if it weren’t for Patrick I could have died.
“So you brought me here.” I look around me, eager to escape the intensity of his gaze.
He nods. “I wanted to take you to the hospital but it’s a long drive, and with the storm it would have taken even longer. Our medic had a look at you. Apparently, you got away with a few bruises and minor hypothermia. She advised that I keep you warm so here you are.”
“You have your very own medic in Gleann Searúill? I’m impressed.”
“Not quite. She’s a vet.” He laughs at my horrified expression and hurries to add, “Don’t be surprised. We have more livestock than people around here so it makes perfect sense. But our vet’s very good. Very gentle. All the cows love her. We’re working on getting an actual doctor. Let’s just say the hiring process has been taking a while.”
I cock a brow. “As in ‘no applicants’?”
“Can you blame them? I’m not even sure we’re on the map.” He winks. “We actually are, but the place is so tiny tourists tend to overlook it.”
“That’s what I thought initially. I couldn’t wait to get away but there’s something about this place. It’s beautiful, life-changing.” More likely, it was the man with the storm-gray eyes and the accent that could penetrate any woman’s protective walls. But I don’t need to tell him that when his ego is already through the roof.
“It is a great place,” Patrick says softly. “You’ll love living here.”
My heart flutters in my chest, full of stupid, blind hope, building castles in the clouds—the Disney movies kind.
“Did you find Seamus?” I ask, eager to change the subject before I end up throwing myself at his feet, just like the gazillion other females out there. “I hope you didn’t have to break off the entire operation to save my sorry ass.”
“Oh, we found him.” He smirks and leans back, putting a few more inches between us. I’m finally able to breathe again. “Right where I thought he’d be: passed out somewhere. Apparently he had finished a bottle of whiskey before the storm hit and was sleeping it off on the cot beneath the deck of his boat. We found him snoring without a care in the world. Not even the storm had woken him. Patty was livid when we dumped him on her doorstep. She’ll give him a piece of her mind storm tonight, that’s for sure.”
I can’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkle with affection. “I’m glad he’s well. You seem very fond of them.”
“I grew up with these people. It’s only natural that I care what happens to them.” He clears his throat and stands, something changing in this mood again. I sense the change of topic before he says, “I’ll make you a sandwich. All that physical exertion must have left you starving.”
“Thank you.” I watch as he leaves the room, then settle back against the pillows. In the sudden silence, I’m strangely aware that I’m in his personal space, surrounded by his belongings. Last time I didn’t get a chance to look around but now I do.
I don’t want to pry but I can’t help myself.
Craning my neck to get a better view, I sweep my gaze over the vast room. The furniture is sparse but tasteful; the décor is kept in muted colors. Everything looks tidy and exudes masculinity and strength yet it has a warm, cozy touch to it. There’s a shirt draped over the back of a chair and an old book with a creased spine sits on the night table on the other side of the bed. I sink deeper into the sheets and inhale his heady scent—a mixture of shower gel and Patrick. His scent. The essence of his being.
I’ve never felt so strange in my life. Both nervous and exhilarated. Anxious to run my fingertips across the smooth fabric the way I’d love to brush them over his smooth skin and explore every part of the man I’m falling for.
“I didn’t know what you like,” Patrick says from the door, interrupting my thoughts.
Does the guy always have to come in at the most unfortunate times and catch me doing the weirdest things?
Hoping he won’t notice the sudden heat rushing to my face, I quickly sit up straight and pretend I’m busy fluffing the pillow. “I’m fine with whatever as long as it’s not a salad. I’d rather starve than eat that .”
“It’s not salad. I think we’ve established your dislike of it. I’m not a fan of it either. If it weren’t for my manager and the strict diet he has put me on, I’d probably give it a pass, too.”
He places a plate on my lap.
“This looks great. Thank you. I’m famished.” No idea what his concoction of a sandwich is but I think I can identify some cheese in here. My stomach grumbles with appreciation. Any guy feeding me cheese and chocolate is bound to have a lasting place in my heart, particularly after saving my life.
“Dive right in. I also brought a little something to help warm you up.”
Like I’d need more of that in his presence.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and holds up a bottle of red and two wine glasses. Judging from the label, it looks expensive but I wouldn’t know because I’m not much of a wine drinker.
At Patrick’s encouraging nod, I start to eat in silence. I finish my sandwich in a few bites while he busies himself with opening the bottle and pouring its contents into the glasses, then hands me one.
“This is good.” I take a big gulp and let the smooth rich flavor trail down my throat, soothing the sore sensation. I’m not sure wine is supposed to be guzzled down like water but who cares? I could have died out there. Or at least that’s my excuse for downing the glass in one last swig.
He instantly gets the hint as a silent invitation for a refill. I take a sip, then a few more. I never understood how people could make a fuss about the distinct characteristics of wine…until now. The stuff is really good. My second glass is half empty, and I’m already feeling warm and giddy and about to enter my happy place, whatever that is.
“Maybe you should slow down a little,” Patrick says.
“What? You think I’m a lightweight?” I raise my eyebrows. He clamps his mouth shut, refusing to respond. I actually am. Alcohol and I don’t go well together. We’ve never been buddies, not even acquaintances, but Patrick doesn’t need to know that.
“Let me get you another sandwich.” He stands to leave. I place a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Who needs food when I almost drowned today, remember? That calls for a celebration.”
He peers at me, unconvinced, but I guess he can’t argue with my reasoning.
I could have died.
“Fine. Just this one glass and then you’re off to bed to sleep it off.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to sleep off as I’m not drunk or anything. My speech sounds a little alien in my ears and the words don’t come out exactly the way they should. But I attribute it to the salt water burning my throat and the chilly wind wasn’t exactly helping.
“Tell me something about you. Maybe a secret. Something no one knows.” I lean forward and pull him back down on the bed, shimmying a little closer to him.
Damn, up close he is stunning. Eyes that are just as devastating wild and mesmerizing as the open sea. Dark hair that’s inviting me to run my fingers through it as I pull him on top of me.
Patrick stares at me for a moment, hesitating. And then he whispers, “There’s something I shouldn’t have done.”
I skid in a little more. “Oh, that sounds intriguing. Do tell.”
He averts his gaze, frowning. “In hindsight, it was a bad move. I really hope I’ll be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance, right?”
“Probably not everyone. No.”
He shoots me a panicked look and I realize that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
Oh, well.
I wave my hand. “You’re sexy and all that. Men like you get away with murder.”
His brows furrow. That’s when I realize my blunder.
“Not that I’m suggesting you murdered anyone. It’s just a saying,” I hurry to add.
“I know the saying.”
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” I whisper, my smile dying on my lips. “Because if this is a confession, then I don’t want to hear it. I’m in a lot of trouble as it is and don’t need ‘accessory to murder’ or whatever they call it added to my rap sheet.”
To my credit, I don’t blanch like most people would in such a situation. I’m all calm and composed. Must be the wine spinning its magic.
“What?” He frowns at my expression, and I realize I’m putting my foot in my mouth. The conversation isn’t going so well. I should just shut up. Let him do the talking before I dig myself a hole so big, it might just fit the entire village.
Judging from the way he’s staring at me, he’s not into digging up holes in his backyard. I almost laugh with relief. He did have me worried for a moment. “So, what is it exactly that you did?”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then shakes his head.
Not a fan of just opening up his heart and spilling it all out, this one. I can tell.
He’s stalling for time and I’m slowly starting to get impatient so I decide to help along a little. Besides, I love guessing. I have this innate talent for figuring out the mystery, usually a few minutes into a movie, long before the big reveal. It drives everyone crazy, including me, because I get bored and end up falling asleep halfway through.
I tap my finger against my lips as I try to come up with the most likely possibility. “You broke into your college at night and skinny-dipped in the pool.”
Patrick shakes his head. “What? No.”
I shrug. Granted, that wasn’t particularly creative, but my brain feels a little mushy and the room’s started to spin, courtesy of the storm still raging outside. Or maybe there’s an earthquake.
“It’s worse than that,” he says. “Skinny dipping in a public pool might be illegal, but it’s not hurting anyone. What I did is bound to cause a lot of pain.”
So he didn’t kill anyone but there’s bound to be a bit of pain.
I take another sip of my wine before I embark on my second attempt. And then it dawns on me. He hopes he’ll be forgiven even though he’s caused a lot of hurt.
All that springs to mind is?—
“You’re into all that Fifty Shades stuff?”
“Nothing of the sort, Lori. I?—”
“Oh, good.” A giggle erupts at the back of my throat. No idea where that one’s coming from. Must be relief that the hot guy isn’t into some weird sexual fetish after all. Having found the man of my dreams and realizing he has a big red room of things I couldn’t even identify would suck big time.
I finish my glass of wine and grab the bottle. He’s not keen on finishing it by the looks of it, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
It tastes even better than before.
Patrick’s eyes focus on me. I faintly recall he wanted to tell me something before the rescue mission. It sounded serious, maybe even bad news.
I hesitate as I regard him.
The light of the fire casts a beautiful glow on his face. He’s sitting so close I can smell the ocean on him. My stomach flutters.
“Lori.” His tone is solemn, full of meaning.
“Not now.”
Whatever it is he wants to talk about can wait because there’s no way I’m letting him spoil this special moment by some possible skeletons in his closet.
Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, all dark and troubled, or the alcohol running through my veins, but it’s turning me on to the point that I can’t help myself. A tingling sensation rushes through me and gathers between my legs. In a brief moment of poor judgment, I lean into him and press my mouth against his lips, taking him by surprise. He doesn’t respond for a second or two, and then his mouth opens and his tongue is inside my mouth, all hot and eager to explore. I moan against him and lean back against the pillows, pulling him on top of me, the big reveal instantly forgotten.
Oh, crap!
It’s happening again and I can’t help myself.
My hands fly up to tear off his clothes, touching him everywhere I can with the kind of urgency that rings huge alarm bells at the back of my mind. The man clearly has something to tell me, and something tells me it’s not going to be pretty. But I don’t care. All I want is to feel him on me, inside me.
I’ll deal with the consequences later.
“Patrick,” I moan into his mouth and trail my fingers down his jeans to the huge bulge already straining the front of them.
“Fuck, Lori. I actually wanted to talk,” he growls against my mouth.
“You can do that later.”
He’s hard and ready for me, eager to make me feel good again. I’m so soaking wet that I’m more than ready to let him. But damn those tiny buttons on his jeans! Whoever invented them and made them so small deserves to live in celibacy for the rest of their miserable existence. My fingers are too clumsy for the darn things.
“Let me,” Patrick says and tears down his jeans, probably sending a few of those buttons flying in the process.
Taking charge, I push him onto his back and peel off my panties, then straddle him, barely leaving him time to roll on a condom before I slide down his entire length. My walls close around him, protesting at the sheer size of him. I throw back my head as ecstasy starts surging through my body. I’m so close I can feel it. He thrusts up and that one movement hits just the right spot. My legs tense, my core catches fire. I’m faintly aware of Patrick’s own release, but the intensity of my orgasm is too incredible to care about anything or anyone else.
I close my eyes and roll with it, taking all I can from the man who’s taken more from me than I was ever prepared to give him.