Chapter 19
SEAMUS
I woke sometime before dawn to the sound of breathing. Not my own.
I blinked once, twice, and then the night came back to me in a punch so strong my body jerked, making Chelsea, her back curled into my front, murmur.
Chelsea. Here, in my bed, in my arms.
Chelsea, who I’d just spent hours with… naked. I pictured her face under mine as I’d entered her, as I’d come—fuck. My dick jumped at the memory, molten heat going through me, and I backed my ass up. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I wanted to wake her up for another round.
I definitely hadn’t even planned on round one, or at least, not getting to the fucking part. I would have been satisfied with everything that came before it. But really doing it?
Jesus.
I rolled over, sitting up on my elbows. I had to pinch my eyes shut and open them again when I saw the glowing numbers on the clock on my dresser. It was half-past six in the morning.
I was shocked—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept past five-thirty, no matter how late I stayed up. I felt halfway human, save for the light headache piercing the front of my head. Normally by this time I’d have downed half a pot of coffee already, and my caffeine-starved brain knew it.
I quietly extricated myself from the tangle of the duvet and slipped on a pair of sweats and my robe before heading to the kitchen.
After the fire had died down last night, we’d migrated to my bedroom; with just the moonlight filtering in, and we’d made love again.
Only this time, I just focused on her. I’d made her come over and over again, working my tongue on her and taking my damn time.
Turned out worshipping Chelsea’s body was my new favorite pastime.
She begged me to make love to her again, but when we’d tried, I could see the pain on her face. I refused after that.
Curse my dick.
My dad had given me a talk when I was old enough about the Reilly appendage, which was the single most embarrassing conversation we’d ever had before or since.
But hell if I wasn’t glad we’d had it. “I haven’t seen it since you were in diapers, son,” he’d said.
“But you need to know it’s not like other men’s.
And it’s not the blessing people think it is.
” He’d told me as delicately as he could that when it was time to go to bed with someone, I’d need to spend most of my time focusing on them, and never expected to do what most people did.
I took the advice to heart, and when I was old enough to drive—and have my first girlfriend—I’d driven to the specialty bookstore in Burlington and picked up all the books I could find with titles like Pleasuring Her and A Woman’s Needs.
These skills had served me well over the years, but my focus—and near paranoia about the size of my dick—meant I hadn’t actually had full, all-the-way sex with very many women.
Every time kind of felt like the first time.
But last night? I couldn’t remember anything before Chelsea.
All memories had been washed away, and it wasn’t just because of the freshness of it.
It was because I was fucking in love with her.
“Morning,”
Chelsea’s voice made me nearly jump out of my skin.
I whirled around. My heart thudded, both at the shock of thinking what I’d already known, and at the object of said realization startling the hell out of me.
“Morning,” I said.
Then I took her in. Oh shit. Chelsea had found my t-shirt from last night, and her wearing it was almost hotter than seeing her naked. Almost. The thin, over-washed fabric clung to her every curve.
“Sorry for taking your t-shirt,” she said. “I was kind of…”
“Naked?” I finished.
She gave a little smile, sending an ache through me, straight to my thudding heart.
“Yeah, that.”
I cleared my throat. “It looks good on you.” I strode over and cupped her face. She took a minute to meet my eye, and for a moment, concern made my stomach twist.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Then she did meet my eyes. There was definitely something there in her expression. That sadness, in her eyes. But she smiled again, and it was gone. Maybe I’d imagined it.
“I’m good,” she said. She placed her hands on my chest and then she was kissing me, and I forgot about anything but the sensation of her.
Her scent, her touch, the way she sighed when she went back onto her flat feet.
I kissed her scar then, just the softest brush of my lips, and when I pulled away, her eyes were glassy.
“Thank you, for last night,” she said.
“Thank you!” I laughed. “God Chelsea, I should be thanking you. That was the best night I’ve had in… ever.”
She gave a half smile, and there was heat in it this time. God help me, my idiot dick jumped.
I turned around, fumbling for the cupboard and praying she hadn’t seen—I hadn’t bothered tying up my robe, and I was just wearing a pair of loose gray sweats. It was embarrassing, her effect on me, and I didn’t want her to think sex was all I was thinking about. My feelings ran deeper than that.
“Can you stay for a bit?” I asked, reaching for a pair of mugs.
She glanced away. “Actually, I promised my dad I’d meet up with him this morning.”
I was surprised at the pang of disappointment I felt at that.
“I have a bit of time before then, though?” she said.
“How much is a bit?” I had visions of forgetting the coffee and carrying her back to my bed.
“An hour maybe?”
Over the gurgle of the coffeemaker, I heard the coo of the chickens.
I needed to let them out. I poured two coffees, then turned around.
She was sitting at the table, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were almost white.
There was definitely something up. I fought the sinking feeling in my gut.
It’s fine. This wasn’t supposed to be anything, anyway.
As much as I wanted her to stay, I couldn’t expect to fix whatever Chelsea might be feeling by holding onto her. I knew that.
I remembered that night on the ridge, when she’d looked out over the view, telling me she preferred sunrises to sunsets. An old pain tugged at me, hard and fast. I felt the words coming before I knew what they were going to be.
“How about a walk to see the sunrise? I know a good place, only about ten minutes up the hill.”
I never sought out the sunrise—it hurt too much. But I knew it was the right thing to have said when Chelsea visibly relaxed. Clearly, she’d been feeling the awkwardness and pressure of sorting out her feelings about whatever this morning after would look like. “Yes,” she said. “I’d love that.”
After pouring our coffee in travel mugs and throwing on our clothes, I led Chelsea out the back door, opening the coop on the way.
The girls clucked excitedly, stepping out onto their ramp. “Hello again, Muffin,” Chelsea said, peering through the fence at her feathery nemesis. It was cold enough that the plume of her breath was visible in the still-moonlit morning.
I laughed softly, but my eyes were already on the horizon, navy blue, over the hill behind my house. This time of year, sunrise happened by the time I was already safely in the office, or on the weekend, doing something around the house.
A memory hit me, so hard and fast I nearly stumbled.
Kevin, shaking my shoulder. Come on dude, wake up. My eyes opened to the glint of moonlight off the tackle on his fishing vest. It’s the best time to get the catch.
“You okay?” Chelsea asked.
I realized I’d stopped at the edge of the trail. “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my neck.
I was. That was all ancient history. This was now, with Chelsea.
As we trekked over to the trail leading up the slope, with our feet crunching on the frosty path, Chelsea asked me about Winona, and why she’d bolted last night.
“She didn’t grow up in the most loving home,” I said.
When I met Winona, she’d just moved here.
Her mom was American and had a great-aunt who lived in Quince Valley, but her stepfather had never let them see her.
She told me her he’d been physically abusive, and it had only gotten worse after her mom passed.
The moment she turned eighteen, Winona had run in the night, taking her two half-brothers, who were only eight and ten at the time, with her.
They’d lived with the elderly aunt until she passed, but it was Winona who raised the boys.
I didn’t say all that to Chelsea—it wasn’t my story to tell, but she got the drift. Violence and Winona didn’t mix.
“I hope she didn’t think Eli would actually hurt you. Again, I mean.”
I rubbed my lip, where the split had healed. “He didn’t really hurt me,” I said. “And he wasn’t going to hit me again last night.” I knew that was the truth. Eli may have a temper, but he had no malice.
“I need to have a long talk with him,” Chelsea said.
Up ahead, the top of the hill was visible—it wasn’t a long walk, as I lived so close to the top already. Thin blue light was visible between the trees.
“So do I,” I said quietly. “He said some unacceptable shit about you last night.”
“But he wasn’t lying.”
I recalled Eli’s words. You chew men up and spit them out.
Chelsea took a sip of her coffee. She wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Chelsea, I don’t care about your past. Whoever you were then made you who you are now.”
There was enough light in the sky now that I could see the slightest wobbly smile. “You’re too good for me, Seamus.”
We’d nearly reached the top now, and I stopped. This was what had been bothering her, I knew. “Hey.” I brought a hand to her cheek. “There’s nothing you need to fix about yourself.”
She swallowed.
I ran a thumb over her cheek. “You don’t have to be perfect to be with someone.”
“No. But you do need to be honest. When I woke up after that crash, I knew I had to change. I told you I don’t know how to be with anyone. I’m not supposed to be with anyone right now. Not till I figure my life out.”
She wasn’t wrong.