12. Kerry
Kerry
I’m used to bizarre sleep schedules. That’s why I’ve invested in the best black out curtains money can buy.
I’m still on New York time just the same as Amy, but even if I wasn’t, having her in my arms would be enough of an allure, even if I wasn’t able to fall asleep.
With her scent filling my lungs, there’s no way I couldn’t fall prey to her enticement of rest.
I had planned to heat up dinner, tell her everything I’ve found out about her friend, relax with her the rest of the night, and then maybe ask her to shower with me.
I want the first time I ravish her to be an all-consuming event, where I lavish my love on her with every part of me— hands, mouth, and cock— until we both collapse from exhaustion.
But, just as she always does, my sweet Amy derails my plans.
I should’ve known that she’d be exhausted, especially after the week she’s had.
I feel a bit stupid that I didn’t anticipate her needs, nor did I even notice how tired she was.
She hides those things well around others and when we’re in the rush of events. It’s like she runs on adrenaline.
Not that I’m blaming her. I’m just learning her, understanding her, which is what I’ve been craving to do since I first learned of her existence.
It’s a relief to be able to be near her, to hold her, to notice the signals of her body.
Someday I’ll be able to recognize them even before she’s able to.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep, not really.
Maybe doze a bit, but after sleeping on the plane for the entire flight, I hadn’t expected to sleep again for a while.
I only intended to lay here with her, enjoy her warmth and smell until she fell asleep.
But that’s the magic of Amy, drawing me in and lifting me higher until I can taste heaven on my lips.
When I rouse who knows how long later, Amy is still fast asleep.
She’s tucked herself into my side, hair strewn across the pillow.
The sight brings a smile to my lips, and I comb her hair with my fingers.
They snag quite a few tangles, and I know she’s going to have a mess to clean up in the morning.
She’s still dressed in her clothes from before we left New York City, so she might feel gross when she wakes up, but I know she was far too tired to do anything about it last night.
I get up as quietly as I can, trying my best not to jostle her.
I stretch and head to the bathroom, realizing Amy’s not the only one who’s been too occupied and tired to attend to her hygiene.
Once I’m showered, I set out towels for Amy, thinking she’ll probably want to shower when she wakes up, too.
The sweet angel is still sleeping when I leave the room to head downstairs, closing the door softly behind me.
I left my phone on the kitchen counter in my rush to get Amy to bed.
It’s been many years since I’ve gone without checking my phone for that long.
Instead of panic, I feel strangely relieved.
Based on how dark it is outside when I step into the kitchen, I’d guess it’s still the middle of the night, based on the darkness outside.
Since we went to bed in the afternoon, that means I slept a long time again.
I’m not sure what Amy does to me that gets me to rest so much, but I can’t say it’s a bad thing.
I feel better physically than I have in a long time.
The coffee machine gurgles to life, and I look at my phone in the meantime.
There’s check-ins from my men stationed around the property, just the usual telling me it’s all clear.
Kensington has also messaged, informing me he’d be back here in the morning to help out.
Nothing from Jack and Liam, which is good.
I’m glad they’re making the most of their night off.
Everything is okay. I exhale slowly, feeling a deep sense of rest settling in my bones, something I haven’t felt since my mother died. A sense of safety, of security.
Once I have my coffee in hand, I start making my rounds. I check over the house, all the windows, looking for any subtle signs of tampering. Finding nothing, I head outside to talk with the guards stationed across my property. They are all doing fantastic work, as they typically do.
It’s still pitch black outside when I slowly ascend the staircase to check on Amy. I’ve lost track of how many hours she’s been sleeping now, but I’m not going to wake her unless I absolutely have to.
Lucky for me, when I crack open the door and peek in, I find the bed empty.
I step in and close and lock the door behind me, just in case.
The sound of steadily streaming water flows from behind the closed bathroom door.
The thought of Amy naked in there, helping herself and getting comfortable in my home, is enough to stir my cock to life and make me smile.
I take a deep breath and step up to the window on the opposite side of the room as the bathroom, trying to calm down a bit. I don’t want to rush in there like a crazed man and scare her. There will be time for that soon enough.
Instead, I head back downstairs and start heating up the stew my aunt made on the stove and start setting the dining room table. Even if it’s just the two of us, I want it to be special. To show Amy that she’s special to me.
I’m just lighting the last candle when I hear the soft thumps of bare feet coming down the stairs. There’s hints of dawn outside of the windows, but it’s still dark enough that the candles brighten the room considerably.
“Kerry?” Amy’s voice calling my name makes my chest feel warm. It’s coming from the kitchen, so I walk into the archway between the dining room and the kitchen and clear my throat. She jumps a bit but relaxes when she sees me. “Sorry I slept so long.”
I arch a brow. “Why would you apologize for that? I’m glad you did. Seems like you needed it.”
Amy pauses, as if she hadn’t expected that response from me. Another spark of anger ignites in me at the thought of just what has caused her to expect people to be mad at her for sleeping. “I know. I did. I just…know I should be adapting to the time zone better.”
I shrug. “There’s plenty of time for that. It’s not like it’s a big deal if you take longer to adapt to it. Besides, you almost slept through the night. That’s close enough, isn’t it?”
She raises her eyebrows. “I did?”
I nod. “It’s almost five. Not quite dawn, but…it’s working on it.”
“Oh.” She lets out a long breath. “That’s even longer than I thought.”
I shrug, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and the dining room. “About twelve hours, I’d say. I probably slept for a good eight of that. Which is…shocking.”
Amy gives me a soft smile that makes me inhale sharply. “Well, I liked it. It felt nice to have you next to me.”
I push off of the doorframe and step up to her, pulling her in by the hips. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I can see the nervousness enter her eyes, the hesitation that has her lips parting as she studies me. “You disagree?” Her voice is quiet, as if she’s scared of breaking something fragile with her question.
I chuckle and pull her in tighter, wrapping my arms around her. “No. There’s nothing about me that disagrees at all. Sleeping next to you felt like a dream come true.”
Her expression softens, all of the doubts fading from her face.
If there’s one thing I’ve figured out about my leannán, it’s that when she’s worried about how she’s handling social interactions, direct and overt adoration serves best to remove those fears.
It’s not hard, all I have to do is let my obsession come out to play, and it calms her immediately.
Which is proof that we’re made for each other. Most people would be scared of the depth of hunger I have for her in my life. Those kinds of declarations would be frightening. But my Amy? It calms. It heals. It nurtures.
“So you’ve said. I just…still struggle to believe it,” Amy admits.
I wish she knew. I wish I could show her my mind for the past few years, how she’s filled every corner of it, how my world has revolved around her.
I wish I could show her that the decisions I’ve made, the plans I’ve crafted, everything has been because of her. She’s been at the center of it all.
I cup her cheeks. “Then I’ll prove it to you. Starting with some breakfast. Which I can’t really take credit for, since it’s my aunt’s stew, but…”
Amy shrugs. “That’s okay. Sounds lovely to me.”
“I know it’s not a traditional American breakfast food.”
Amy just chuckles and shrugs again. “That’s okay. I’m not exactly a traditional American.”
I laugh and kiss her forehead. “A fair point. All right, come on.” I pull her into the dining room. Her eyes light up at the table being set and the candles lit, despite it being…so simple. “Come and sit.” I pull out a chair for her to sit at.
Her voice is quiet as she slips into the seat. “It’s so lovely, Kerry, thank you.”
I scoff and kiss her hair, struggling to keep my hands off of her as I push her chair in. “Nonsense. This is nothing.”
She looks over her shoulder at me and shakes her head. “No. This is far from nothing. This is…effort.”
I frown and tuck strands of her freshly washed, wet hair behind her ear. “Only a little, leannán.”
“A little effort is still effort, and that means something.” Her voice is so soft, but so resolute. It comes from a scarred past. There’s a weight to it even in its meekness.
It makes me furious. I take a deep breath, not wanting even a drop of that anger to leak into my tone. “You are worth so much effort, Amy. Something I’m more than willing to show you, time and time again, day after day. This is just the start.”
She looks back at me, big brown eyes studying me again, as if searching for the truth of my words, the extent of my thoughts. I hold her gaze for a moment before kissing her hair and walking into the kitchen to get the food.
It takes me a couple of minutes to bring it all to the dining room table.
I have to stop Amy from getting up to help, shooing her back to her seat.
But when I finally have the champagne bottle in hand and pop the cork open, making Amy shriek in surprise and then laugh, I know I’ve done the right thing.
My mind, no matter how depraved, chose the right person to become obsessed with. To love.
“Isn’t it kinda early to be drinking?” She laughs.
I grin at her and pour the bubbly into the glass flutes I brought out for us. “You’re in Ireland, no such thing. And our sleep schedules are all broken anyway, so what’s the concept of time to us?”
She just grins at me and shakes her head, sipping her champagne. “This is really good.”
“Marjorie has good taste. She always has.” I sit down and start serving her the stew.
She watches with slightly raised eyebrows, although I’m not sure why. “That explains some things about you. You seem set on the finer things in life.”
I chuckle as I dish up stew for myself. “Not necessarily. It’s a definite perk of my line of work, but I just insist on the finer things for you.”
She raises her eyebrows again as I dish her up some salad next.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I mirror her raised eyebrows.
She looks up at me and blinks several times. “Look at you like what? I haven’t even been looking at you. I’ve been watching you serve the food.”
I chuckle. “So literal. But that’s what I mean. You look…surprised.”
She sighs and twists her hands together in her lap. “I kind of am. I guess I’m not used to…”
I pause, studying her face as she looks down at her lap. I give her time to finish her sentence, not wanting to interrupt her.
Amy closes her eyes for a moment, and I can tell she’s contemplating her word choices. “Men don’t usually serve women food like this, I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it much until you started doing it.”
That same anger from before sparks again.
“That’s preposterous,” I grit out. “If their pride is so fragile and easily threatened, then they are weak. That can be used against them. They should be more careful.” I scoff and shake my head.
“As if something like that could define manliness. They are just weak, lazy men.”
Amy’s eyes widen, but then she bursts into laughter. “You know what? You’re right. They are.” She grins at me as she raises her glass. “I’ll cheers to that.”
I smirk at her and set down the salad tongs to lift my own glass, clinking it against hers. “Cheers, leannán. Here’s to you freeing yourself of puny, entitled men.”
She laughs and nods. “And here’s to you not being one of those.”
The clink of glass echoes throughout the room again, sounding like a promise.