Bonus Chapter #4
Eoghan deals the cards and checks his hand. His expression gives nothing away, but it quickly becomes apparent that he is going to lose. Again. So, I steer this round in his direction, hoping that his brother won’t notice.
Eoghan wins.
Ruairi grins at me like he knows exactly what I’ve done and what I want from his brother, and I pray that they don’t share their experiences with each other. It’s one thing to want Eoghan inside my panties, but his brother knowing about it is quite another matter. I’m not that uninhibited. Yet.
Then I spot the digital board above our heads and realize that my family’s flight has landed.
My stomach twists as I stand up, and I miss Eoghan’s body heat the instant it is gone. I glance at the sliding doors through which my family will be arriving at any moment now. Then a slip of paper and a pen is pressed against the palm of my hand, and I turn around to face Ruairi, who shrugs.
“He won fair and square.” He jerks his head in the direction of his brother who is also on his feet now and watching me so intently that I don’t trust myself to even remember my number.
I scribble my number, silently repeating the digits in my head like a mantra, and place it in the palm of his hands. “See you around sometime.”
He smiles. “You will, Emily.”
I love the way he says my name with that melodical accent.
I barely notice the tall, sandy-haired guy with the leather bag slung over his shoulder as I cross the lounge and join Sienna. She smiles at me, bright-eyed, and I squeal like a teenager as the door slides open and Kyle steps out first.
His eyes are all for Sienna, and that’s okay. That’s exactly as it should be.
We’re a tactile family, so I run to my dad who hugs me tightly and swings me around until I feel dizzy. “How’s my baby girl?”
“I’m happy, Dad.”
My feet touch the ground, and more hugs follow. My mom. Caleb, Victoria, and their baby, Holly. Abigail, Victoria’s niece. Cash and Bash my twin brothers. We’re all together, and although I’m excited for the wedding, the buzzing in my veins is mostly for Eoghan.
I glance around as he and his brother are heading outside with the sandy-haired man who must be their dad. It occurs to me then that I didn’t think to ask who they were waiting for. I guess I was kind of distracted.
“Who’s that, sweetheart?” Dad asks, following my gaze.
My pulse spikes. I love my dad to bits, but I don’t want him to tarnish my first meeting with Eoghan before I’ve even had a chance to get home and dissect it, word for word, and figure out what it is about him that turns my legs to mush in his presence.
“Some guy I was talking to.”
Sienna comes up behind me and links her arm through mine. “They were playing cards,” she says, diffusing the situation before my dad can blow it out of proportion. “He seemed nice.”
Nice? Try red-hot and smoking, instead.
“Name?” My dad is still watching the backs of their heads as they disappear through the revolving doors that lead outside.
“Eoghan. Eoghan Byrne.” I realize with a smile that I repeated his name twice, the way he did when he introduced himself.
“Byrne?” My dad is trying it on for size. “As in Declan Byrne’s son?”
“Okay,” My mom interjects, entwining her fingers with my dad’s and rolling her eyes. “How many Byrnes live in Ireland, do you think? At a guess?”
“Hundreds.” Bash wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles my neck with his stubble, and I feel the color rise in my cheeks again. We always mess around like this, but now that I’ve felt Eoghan’s lips on my face it feels wrong somehow.
So, I extricate myself from his embrace and link my other arm through his. “We should go. We have forty-eight hours to prepare for a wedding, and I’ve seen how long it takes you to get ready.”
We leave the airport, our voices tangled up as we all try to speak over one another, our security team pushing trolleys piled high with luggage behind us.
Outside, I search for a glimpse of Eoghan, but he’s already gone.
Eoghan
“You’ll have to introduce me to your new friend, Eoghan.” Dad places his hand on the back of my neck as we leave the airport, keeping me on track, like he needs to keep me focused.
“Maybe I will.”
It’s something he has always done. When I was younger, I saw it as a sign of love, a kind of bear hug or a pat on the shoulder. Well done, lad, keep up the good work. But now… Now I see it, and feel it, for what it is. A form of control.
He isn’t a tactile man. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me or Ruairi.
Even when our mom died when I was eight years old, and Ruairi was ten, he sat us down on the leather sofa in our living room, crouched opposite us on the floor, his eyes puffy with unshed tears, and told us that she was gone.
From a distance. He must’ve offered words of comfort although I can’t remember what they were through the blurry-eyed memories of that period of my life.
But he didn’t hug us. Either of us.
The difference is, Ruairi never seemed to need hugs as affirmations of love.
Ruairi drives home from the airport, my dad in the front passenger seat, me in the back.
Dad never discusses business on the move.
He’s always made it a rule that he kicks off his shoes in the car, pops a classical music CD into the stereo system and turns up the volume, forming a clearly defined barrier between one meeting and the next.
It gives him time to think and breathe. Like he’s some kind of Zen Buddhist.
So, I tune them out of my mind and rub my fingertip over Emily’s cell phone number on the slip of paper she pressed into my hand.
She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is. I could see it in her eyes when she approached us in the Arrivals lounge that she didn’t know how it was going to go, as if I might take one look at her and pass.
It blows my mind that no one has ever told her that she could literally ignite flames with those emerald-green eyes.
It took every ounce of my willpower to keep my hands to myself and when she crushed her nipples against my legs…
Fuck! I could’ve ripped her clothes apart with my bare hands, spread her ass cheeks wide, and fucked her from behind until her knees were raw.
Emily deserves better than that though.
She deserves better than me.
She should be treated like a princess, worshipped, adored, fanned by giant fucking palm leaves all summer while she sips strawberry daiquiris through golden straws if that’s what makes her happy.
One thing I am absolutely certain of though is that my brother will not get his filthy hands on her. Even if it means that I walk away now and forget I ever met her.
While music from Puccini’s La boheme fills the car, I add Emily’s number to my list of contacts and type a message.
When can I fuck you?
Then I sit back and close my eyes.
She’ll either smile when she reads it or she’ll block my number and erase today from her memory. I didn’t ask how long she’ll be staying in Ireland. She said that her family was flying in for the wedding; perhaps she’ll fly back with them once it’s over.
But I can’t let the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen go without at least trying to get her to notice me.
My phone vibrates on my lap sending signals directly to my cock.
I open the message, my pulse gathering speed.
After the wedding?
My brother’s wedding, I mean. Not ours.
Not that you were ever going to propose to me.
Shit! Dropped my phone and my sister-in-law’s seven-year-old niece read my last message and now she’s eyeing me up like one of those batshit-crazy seagulls that stalk the beaches here.
Does that answer the question, or do you want me to repeat everything I just said?
I smile. Five messages for the price of one.
That won’t be necessary. The wedding is in two days, so I get to taste you on day three?
The thought of spreading her legs wide and eating her sweet pussy sends my cock into a thrumming tailspin. I swear I can already taste her and, once tasted, Emily will never be forgotten.
My phone vibrates with her reply: Make it day four and we have a deal.
Family stuff? I ask.
You got it.
My phone settles down, and I succumb to the smooth purr of the car engine and my dad’s favorite opera.
I can appreciate the beauty of the music even if it doesn’t move me to tears the way it does most opera lovers.
Give me Steven Tyler’s gravelly voice belting out ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ any day.
I can imagine undressing Emily with Aerosmith playing in the background, devouring her body with my eyes before I taste every inch of her, inside and out.
She is the only woman I’ve wanted to fuck on first sight.
Sure, I’ve had my share of one-night stands.
But they generally occur when sufficient alcohol has been consumed for it to become a consensual fumbling accompanied by a series of grunts rather than something that either party is so desperate for that they can’t wait a moment longer.
But that’s how I felt when I saw Emily walking towards me, like she was drenched in pheromones that I was powerless to resist.
Scratch that. I was powerless to resist her.
That the feeling is mutual makes me feel like I could carry a mountain on my shoulders and set it down at her feet as a gift.
Another message arriving on my phone drags me out of my own head where my throbbing cock is currently king, and back to the present. My dad and Ruairi are talking in low tones in the front of the car, and for one sobering moment, I wonder if I imagined the whole text message conversation.
Then, I unlock my phone and see Emily’s name, and the blood starts pumping through my veins all over again.
Will you be gentle with me?
That’s an easy question to answer. Never.
Do I get a say in that?
No. I hit the send button and sit back in my seat.