Chapter 54
fifty-four
GRAY
Gray and Ciar decided to walk the few blocks to Gray Eyes that evening. They were meeting their friends for dinner to celebrate Imogen’s final adoption.
They were running late. Initially, because Tina and Imogen had gotten home and their daughter insisted on lots of love and attention. Not that she and Ciar wanted or even tried to resist.
By the time Imogen had finished her dinner and got ready for bed, they’d barely managed showers for themselves before heading out, which led to the second reason they were running late.
Heat suffused her cheeks when she remembered Ciar getting into the shower with her. He’d already been fully hard.
“I need you again,” he’d groaned while stroking his length.
Those four words were all she’d needed to hear to capitulate and open her body. Her need for him was as fierce and driving as his own. She couldn’t even blame it on hormones. She’d always wanted Ciar desperately.
He’d sat on the large teak bench and pulled her slippery body onto his lap until she straddled him, her belly pressing against his erection.
Ciar had touched her then, every slow stroke of his hands up and down her back, her stomach and breasts, ass and thighs, left her moaning and compliant. Her husband was as meticulously thorough at sex as he was in every aspect of his life.
His tattooed hands contrasted with her smooth, white skin, and had Gray leaning into his body, arching her back for more.
When he gripped her hips and lifted her above his sex, she might have shouted at how good it felt when he let her body slide down him.
She’d been helpless to do anything but take what he offered.
After climaxes ripped through their bodies, Gray had bent her head and whispered in Russian, “You are my heart. Forever.”
Ciar tightened his arm around her shoulders as Gray Eyes came into view, clearly also thinking about their shower. “I can’t believe you never told me you spoke Russian.”
Gray snorted in amusement. In his shock, he’d stood in the shower, keeping them connected as he stared in disbelief.
“And let you know how obsessed I was with you. No thanks. Plus,” she admitted, rolling her eyes, “I’m nowhere near as good as you and your Aunt Alya, of course.”
“The hell you aren’t,” he disagreed. “That old Russian woman has you speaking like a native.”
While they dressed, she’d told him how she’d come to learn Russian while he begged her to keep speaking in the language.
Before they reached the front door of the pub, she placed a hand on his chest and stopped them. “You mentioned that part of the reason you spent the evening with Marie was that you enjoyed the nostalgia of conversing with someone in your mother tongue.
“I know you have more bad memories of your childhood than any one person should have to endure, but,” she had to swallow her tears so they wouldn’t fall, “I want you to know that you can speak to me in Russian any time you feel like it.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and cleared his throat. “I would like that. Thank you for this, Gray.”
“I also thought we might teach our children.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. Truly. You’ve given me everything.”
“Well, you’ve given me your heart and two children. I’m feeling pretty damn lucky myself. Now,” she started, moving them toward the doorman, “we’d better get inside before our friends ask us why we’re late.”
Ciar smirked. “The guys won’t need to ask. No man looks this relaxed unless they’ve just finished coming inside a woman.”
“Men are animals.”
Dinner was loud and obnoxious and completely amazing. Even Blair made it since she was back in town from Wales to meet with her professors.
Many of the staff remembered Gray from their training and were excited to see the owner in house. If Gray didn’t have such an upset stomach, the night would be perfect.
She surreptitiously massaged her belly under the table in an attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort, to no avail.
She didn’t tell Ciar she wasn’t feeling great because he would immediately put an end to the evening, and since their group nights out were becoming less frequent, she didn’t want to ruin the fun.
Her stomachache was likely just gas—nothing ruins romance faster than talking about trapped farts with your partner.
Blair caught Gray’s attention and asked her if she was feeling okay. Conversation died immediately, all eyes now focused on Gray. Blair flinched and mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Gray?” Ciar turned in his chair and began running his hands all over her body.
Was he looking for an open wound? Gray brushed his hands off, assuring him she was fine. Mags piped up, stating, “I think you’ve had your hands on Gray enough this evening already, Ciar. You know sex can bring on labor, right?”
“Shut up, Mags,” Gray said, throwing a napkin at her friend. “I’m weeks away. Also, I don’t recall you being in our home earlier, Miss Know-It-All.”
“I didn’t need to be there, Mrs. Prude,” Mags smirked. “Everyone at this table with a wiener was all but high-fiving your husband. Dagr even went in for knuckles, for crying out loud.”
“Oh my God, Dagr,” Bébhinn elbowed her fiancé, who only laughed.
Gray turned to Ciar, who was sitting back in his chair, looking smug. She shook her head but couldn’t help the smile that stretched her cheeks. “I’ll never understand men.”
“You understood me just fine earlier. Twice,” he chuckled and leaned to the side to miss her batting him in the chest.
Gray laughed and relaxed back into her chair only to have the worst cramp of the night squeeze her entire belly. She couldn’t hold back the moan as she bent over the contracted mound.
“Oh shit,” she heard one of the guys swear.
Ciar was on his knees and in her face instantly. His hands were shaking when he clasped her forearms. “Gray. Baby. Christ, Gray. Is it time?”
The pain eased, and she was able to sit straight again. “I doubt it. Honestly.” Even if she was beginning to suspect the discomfort wasn’t trapped gas after all.
Mags stood and walked to her side of the table, giving orders as she went. “Daniel, call your mom and have her call Josephine. Just in case this isn’t a false alarm, she’ll want to be here. Jonathan, call an Uber. When the car gets here, you and Daniel ride with Ciar and Gray to the hospital.”
When Mags stood next to Ciar, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Get a grip, Ciar. It’s probably not the real thing.”
Except Gray’s body appeared to disagree with her assessment, and another pain ripped through her abdomen, forcing another moan from her.
“Forget what I said. Carry your wife to the front, you moron. How long for the car?” Mags barked at Jonathan.
“Two minutes.”
“Dagr,” Bébhinn started, standing now too, “call an Uber for us. You, me, Mags, and Blair can go to Gray’s and grab her hospital bag. We’ll also need to let Tina know.”
Gray’s pain eased enough for her to say, “Tina and I decided that she and Imogen would come to the hospital after the birth, but she will want you to let her know. Thank you, guys.”
Ciar was still frozen at her feet. He looked stunned. “Ciar,” she gently urged. “The car will be here.”
“I’m sorry, Gray. Christ. Did I do this?”
Her badass husband was near tears, and she just about melted then at how much she loved him. “Your penis is magical, babe,” Gray assured, patting his cheek. “Best you don’t let your ego inflate more than it has, or we won’t fit in the hospital room.”
“Right!” Her head spun as Ciar jumped to his feet, then lifted her in his arms and rushed to the entrance, amid clapping and whistles from the patrons.
The car ride wasn’t the funnest experience Gray had ever participated in. Her contractions—she’d finally admitted they were, in fact, contractions and not gas—were riding her hard.
“Ninety seconds,” Jonathan shouted, unnecessarily loud in the small car.
“Why do you keep barking out fucking numbers like an idiot?” Daniel complained.
“Mom told me to track Gray’s contractions and report in. Our dads would kick my ass if I disappointed the Holy Trinity,” Jonathan quipped.
In between contractions, Gray was able to snort her amusement. Sometimes, the Byrne sisters were referred to as the Holy Trinity. Never out of disrespect to the Church, but in reference to how the O’Faolain men worshipped the sisters.
Well, not Rowan anymore. “Damn it,” Gray whispered. Now wasn’t the time to think of Hugh O’Faolain’s passing.
Gray kissed Ciar, who was holding her across his lap and looking close to tears. “I love you, Ciar. Your son clearly set a different due date for himself. Stop worrying.”
His response was to clench his jaw and use the shirt at his shoulder to pat aggressively at his eyes.
“For me, Ciar. You’re the strongest man I know, and I need that strength for myself now. Tell me you love me and that you have this.”
Ciar tipped his head back and took a deep breath. His arms banded tighter around her body just as another contraction took her. As she moaned, he leaned close. “I love you, and we definitely have this.”