Текст книги "Irish Sex Fairy"
Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
Chapter Seventeen
Stefanie called on Tuesday to let Keara know that it was all set for her to go back to work Monday. Keara had rented a car to drive home in, figuring she’d buy a new car back in LA. She’d just go back to the BMW dealership and get another one.
“Do you want to visit the bank first?” Stefanie asked. “Like last time?
Remembering the humiliating experience, Keara shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’ll just go in to work Monday.”
“You could work half days at first, if you want.”
It sounded reasonable, but Keara was determined she was going to do this. She wasn’t going to admit that a fist of tension still squeezed her guts at the thought of going back. She could do this. She had to do this.
“No, that’s fine,” she replied.
Maeve came into the apartment just as she hung up the phone, looking upset.
“What’s wrong?
Maeve’s lips quivered. “I’ve…I’ve misplaced some money.”
“Money. What do you mean?”
“A few days ago I didn’t go to the bank to make the deposit. I put the money in a safe place upstairs.”
“And…it’s gone?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I can’t remember where I put it.”
“Oh, Maeve.”
“I know, I know, it was stupid.” Maeve rubbed her forehead. “I should have gone to the bank.”
“Have you looked? It has to be there somewhere.”
“Yes, I’ve looked.” Maeve’s voice took on just a slight edge. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Well what do you think…you don’t think it’s been stolen, do you?”
“No! Oh, Jesus and Mary, I don’t know. I’m sure it’s not been stolen, but I just can’t think where it would be.”
“Well, come on, I’ll help you look for it.” Keara fought back the panicky feeling Maeve’s latest memory problem brought on. What was going to happen when she was gone? “How much money was it?”
“Eleven hundred dollars.”
Keara stopped on the stairs and looked over her shoulder at her aunt. “Oh, dear God.”
Maeve’s face crumpled as if she was near to tears and Keara turned and put her arms around her thin shoulders. “It’s okay, Maeve. We’ll find it.”
“It’s not okay. I’m a stupid old lady. I can’t believe I lost that much money.”
Inside the apartment, Keara stood there, looking around. Where would Maeve have put it? She started searching, Maeve following behind her, saying, “I looked there already”, then “I wouldn’t put it there”. Until Keara finally reached the bathroom and found the canvas bag from the store beneath a pile of towels in the cabinet.
Maeve pursed her lips, clutching the bag in both hands. “I decided maybe I will be going to the doctor,” she said slowly. “So I called earlier and made an appointment.”
“Oh, good.” Keara let out a long breath. “I’ll come with you.”
Maeve slanted her a look. “Well. It’s not until next week. You’ll be gone.”
Keara stared back at Maeve. “Oh. Damn.”
“It’s okay, muirnín. I can go on my own.”
“I-I know. I just wanted to be there for you.” In case it was bad news. In case there was anything she could do. But she wouldn’t be here. Her stomach churned a little. “Well, I’ll just have to phone you,” Keara said, pasting on a smile. “What day is your appointment?”
“It’s Wednesday.”
“Okay. I’ll call you Wednesday night.”
“All right.”
“I’ve rented a car,” Keara told Maeve. “I’ll pick it up late Friday, but I’ll leave Saturday morning. That’ll get me back to LA in time to get some food, get ready for work on Monday.”
Maeve nodded, eyes cast down to the rug at their feet. “That sounds like a good plan.” She lifted her gaze and found Keara’s. “You’re sure you’re ready for this, muirnín? Because you’re welcome to stay longer if you need to.”
“I know. But I have to do this. I’ve been away from work too long. It’s not fair to them. And I can’t just hide here forever. I have to face reality.”
“I suppose. Well, what should we do to celebrate your last night here? Should we have a party on Friday night?”
“A party?” Keara laughed. “Just the two of us?”
“We could invite Shane and his parents, and Glen of course and Jayla and…I don’t know.”
Keara shook her head, but smiled. “That’s okay. I don’t want a party.” And she doubted if Shane or his parents would come anyway. It had been a few days since she’d been to their home and she hadn’t forgotten the hurt looks of disappointment on their faces. Worse, Shane hadn’t dropped by in the last few days, either.
“Perhaps you and Shane will want to spend time together your last night,” Maeve said. “I understand that.”
Keara shook her head, keeping her smile firmly in place. “I doubt it. Now that he knows I’m going, he’s…well, I’m feeling better and…”
Maeve’s eyes sharpened. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You two have fallen in love.”
“No we haven’t!”
Maeve sighed. “I should have known that would happen if you had sex. What was I thinking? I knew that oxytocin had that effect.”
“What effect?”
“It makes women feel like nurturing. Bonding.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, then flashed Keara a quizzical look. “You’re in love with him but you still intend to go back to LA?”
“I’m not in love with him!” Keara speared her fingers into her hair, pushing it off her face. She paced away from Maeve. “It was just sex, Maeve, just like the Irish Sex Fairy ordered.”
Maeve blinked several times, her mouth a thin line. “What about Shane?”
“What about him?” She tried to prevent the defensive tone from edging her voice but didn’t succeed totally.
“If he’s in love with you…oh Jesus and Mary. What have I done?” Maeve covered her face. “I can’t believe…oh lord.”
“What?” But Keara knew exactly what Maeve was thinking. If Shane cared about her and she left, it was his history repeating itself. She was going to hurt him, and the thought of that was like an icicle stabbing into her heart. She didn’t want to hurt him. She turned away, chest aching, throat throbbing, and glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it time for your bridge game?”
“I don’t know if I’ll go tonight.”
“Oh, Maeve. You should go.” Keara turned back to her and forced a smile.
Maeve studied her then said, “All right. I’ll be home at the usual time.”
When she had left, Keara wandered to the window and looked down into the street at the cars passing by, the people walking along the sidewalks. When she realized she was looking for Shane she muttered a curse and turned away from the window.
She rubbed her face and wandered through the empty apartment. He knew it was Maeve’s bridge night. He always came over on bridge night.
She sat on the couch and turned on the television, stared at it without really seeing it as the evening passed, time measured in thirty minute programs, until it was ten o’clock and with a dismal, aching heart she knew Shane wasn’t coming.
* * *
Maeve and Keara had decided they would go out for dinner for Keara’s last night in Kilkenny. After they picked up the rental car and dropped it off at Maeve’s, they drove to Peabody’s, an elegant restaurant on the edge of town. Keara was all packed and ready to load her things into the car in the morning.
White cloths covered the tables, silverware and glass gleamed in candlelight at each table, and a fresh orchid floated in a small bowl. Soft music drifted through the restaurant, accompanied by the hushed murmur of voices and the clinks of cutlery on china.
Keara was sure her meal was delicious, but she didn’t even taste the chicken piccata she’d ordered, so elegantly presented, and the glass of wine that accompanied it was probably lovely.
She declined dessert and was finishing her second glass of wine when she looked across the room and saw Shane walk in. Her heart leaped and her pulse accelerated. The wineglass in her fingers trembled.
Was he here on a date? God, she so did not want to see Shane with another woman. Yes, she was leaving, but please, let him wait until she was gone before he started dating someone else.
But as he spotted them and crossed the room toward them, he appeared to be alone.
“Um…Shane’s here,” she said to Maeve, who looked behind her.
“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Maeve pushed back her chair and stood to hug him as he neared. As his arms circled her, his eyes met Keara’s above Maeve’s head.
Her body quivered in response and her heart tightened.
“You came!” Maeve said. Keara frowned.
Maeve turned to her with a small, cunning smile. “I’d invited Shane to join us for dinner, but he…uh…declined. But, Shane, we’ve just finished our dinner.”
“That’s okay,” he said, voice rough, eyes still holding Keara’s gaze. “I ate anyway. I just stopped by to say goodbye.”
“Would you look at the time?” Maeve said. “I have to go meet Glen! Shane, you’ll give Keara a ride home, won’t you?”
Shane’s expression didn’t change. “Sure.”
“Oh…” Keara began, pushing her chair back. Maeve had to meet Glen? How could that be?
“The bill is paid,” Maeve said with a wave of her hand, scooping her purse off the floor. “But stay and have another drink if you like.”
And she disappeared, her trim figure in all black with a silver and gold metallic scarf draped around her shoulders, hurrying across the restaurant.
Keara’s gaze returned to Shane. He stood there, still looking grim faced. “I…uh guess we can go.”
“Finish your wine.” He dropped into Maeve’s seat, taking up far more room across the table from her than Maeve had, his broad shoulders blocking out other diners. She regarded him for a moment, taking in the short black hair, the thick brows, his sapphire blue eyes, firm square jaw locked.
He wore a white button shirt loose over a pair of black pants, and the turned-back cuffs revealed his strong wrists and forearms, dusted with dark hair. He was so appealing, so sexy and attractive, she felt herself warm and melt inside.
Heart aching, she picked up her wine and sipped what was left.
“Would you like to order a drink?” The waiter appeared at their table.
Shane glanced at Keara. “Sure. I’ll have what she’s having, and she’ll have another.”
Oookay. She shook her head at his bossiness. Guess they were staying a while.
“I didn’t think I’d get to say goodbye to you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
“I know. You could’ve called me.”
She blinked. Yes, she could have. But she’d gotten so used to him just showing up every day, when he hadn’t she’d interpreted that as him not being interested anymore. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”
He inclined his head. “I didn’t, actually.”
“Oh.” She bent her head, stinging inside from his rejection. But what did she expect?
“I figured it’d be easier if we didn’t see each other again. That’s why I said no to Maeve’s dinner invitation. But then…” He looked away from her, gazing across the restaurant. “I couldn’t do it. I had to see you one more time.”
Her mouth felt full and soft, her eyes prickling. It was hard to breathe, her chest felt so tight. She emptied the rest of the wine into her mouth.
She didn’t know what to say.
“Keara.” She looked up at him, his gorgeous blue eyes sad and full of shadows. “I don’t want you to go.”
Her heart cracked and splintered, slowly, agonizingly, filling her chest with painful shards. She gazed back at him, and blinked back tears. “Shane…”
“Never mind. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ve rented a car to drive back to LA. I’ll get a new car there. I start work on Monday.”
“That’s going to be okay?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. But…I have to do it.” She pleaded for understanding with her eyes. “I have to, Shane.” She wanted to say more, but the words clogged up in her throat.
He gave a jerky nod and sat back as the waiter set their glasses of Sauvignon Blanc in front of them. He picked up his glass. “I know. I understand.”
“Shane.” There was so much she wanted to say to him, to tell him…but she knew she couldn’t. Things were complicated enough. It was better just to leave without things getting all messy.
“Maeve’s going to go to the doctor next week,” she said, her voice annoyingly shaky and low. She told him about the money Maeve had forgotten. “I wish I could be here to go with her.”
Shane’s mouth tightened. “Yeah. That’d be nice. But I’ll take care of her.”
She nodded. “I know you will. And I’ll be in touch with her. I promise you I will. But I know she has good friends looking out for her.” And she did. She trusted Shane and knew without a speck of doubt he could be counted on to do just that. That’s the kind of man he was.
He lifted his chin, sipped his wine.
They watched each other, and the restaurant around them faded into a blur, the noise muted to a murmur, Shane’s face crystal clear in her vision. Emotion swelled inside her, rising into her throat, and her face felt tight and hot. She ached but she didn’t know exactly for what. She wanted…but she wasn’t sure what. She only knew she wanted something, so much, that she could have cried from it. And she had to blink back the tears that gathered.
Shane reached across the table and took her hand in his. The warm strength of his touch sent ripples of need through her. She needed him.
“Come home with me,” he said, his thumb stroking over the pulse in her wrist that fluttered there, eyes blazing blue.
There was only one answer. Right or wrong, she didn’t know. Maybe it was right and wrong. “Yes.”
Shane wasn’t sure if he could walk with the massive hard-on pressing against his zipper. Luckily he’d worn his shirt untucked. He stood, tossed some bills on the table to cover their glasses of wine, then put a hand out to Keara. When she set her hand in his, creamy soft and small, he felt the tremors in it and something swelled inside his chest. Pausing beside the table, right there in the middle of the restaurant, he tugged her hand so she took a step closer to him, then lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to them. His gaze met and held hers and the glossy green of her eyes and the sharp intake of her breath told him her emotions were as turbulent as his.
He led the way out of the restaurant, still holding her hand, and she tripped along beside him in a pair of high-heeled sandals he’d never seen. Come to think of it, she was dressed like he’d never seen her in the weeks she’d been in Kilkenny—a strapless black dress hugged her curves from breasts to knees, and the silky bare skin of her shoulders begged him to touch.
“Is this a new dress?” he murmured as they waited for the valet to bring his car around, allowing himself to drag a fingertip over one shoulder.
She blinked up at him. “Dress? Oh. No.” She looked down at herself. “I don’t know why I brought this with me. But Maeve said we should dress up for our last dinner.”
“Love the shoes.” He looked at her slender calves and the sexy shoes. Pretty scarlet toenails peeped below barely there straps over her insteps.
“Thank you.” Her voice, too, was throaty. Sexy. His insides tightened.
The drive back to his place was smolderingly silent. When they walked into his house, memories of the first time they’d had sex right there on his stairs flashed and burned. And when their eyes met, he knew she was remembering too. A peachy flush crept up her cheeks, making her so adorably pretty he had to reach out and touch her cheek with his fingertips. His thumb stroked over her jaw, then her bottom lip, which parted from the top, and a fierce tenderness expanded inside him.
With a long, aching groan, he drew her against him, tipped her face up with both hands and kissed her mouth. She arched against him, and need for her slammed into him. His arms slid around her, one hand tangling in her hair, one skimming down her back to her butt, where he pressed her tight into him.
Their ragged moans mingled as they shared a kiss that tasted of raw joy and hungry ardor, mouths moving, tongues sliding. Keara’s fingers glided into his hair, her nails scraped his scalp and spears of need stabbed into him.
He never wanted to let her go. He didn’t want her to leave, but the idea of begging her to stay, of opening himself up like that, making himself so dangerously vulnerable, horrified him. He couldn’t do it. He could implore her with his body, with his mouth, with his hands. He could appeal to the emotion he knew raged in her too. But he couldn’t say the words.
He bent and hooked his arm beneath her legs, swinging her up against him. She choked out a gasp and grabbed on to his shoulders and he loved it, loved the feeling of her hands gripping him so needily.
He carried her upstairs. “This time we make it to the bed,” he promised her. She tucked her head against him, and he admired the sleek curves of her legs dangling, the skirt of her dress hitched up well above her knees.
He set her down to sit on the bed then dropped to the carpet beside her. He picked up one foot and slid the strap behind her heel off, then slipped the shoe off. Her foot felt delicate in his hands and he kissed her instep, then her ankle. She shivered and her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
He removed the other sandal, skated his palms up over silky calves, and rose onto his knees. Darkness and quiet enfolded them, the only sound he could hear the thudding of his heart. His hands slid up higher, beneath the dress, over her thighs, until he touched the edge of her panties.
Their eyes met. And she lifted her hips just enough for him to hook his fingers into the strings of what must be thong underwear and drag them down.
As he drew the panties over her knees, the scent of warm feminine arousal filled his nostrils and a feverish lust ripped through him. A moan of pure, primal desire tore from his throat and he tossed the panties aside and shoved her skirt up. With a choked gasp, she fell to her back on the bed, and he parted her thighs and surged over her, craving her taste. He licked and sucked and kissed, filled himself with her scent and her taste, her soft whimpers mingling with the soft noises of his mouth on her until her fingers tightened in his hair and her hips arched beneath him. She cried out. “Shane! Oh God, Shane.”
He sucked until her quivery body went still, and even then didn’t lift his head, inhaled her, eyes closed, wanting to imprint that scent in his olfactory memory forever.
If this was their last time, he was going to make it…everything. He wanted to do everything to her, wanted to be everything to her, as she was everything to him.
His throat burned when he finally lifted his head and moved up over her to kiss her mouth again, sharing her taste with her.
Her hands fluttered over his back. “You make me come so hard,” she whispered, mouth moving against his. “I want you inside me.”
“Mmm.” Oh yeah, he wanted that too. But he knew they could take their time because he was going to make love to her all night long, even if it meant she drove back to LA with zero sleep. This was their last night and every minute—every second—built a memory, a fragile keepsake, a dream he could sink into alone at night.
* * *
Keara was drunk and floating, dizzy and breathless, her body soft and wet and pulsing. But she needed more. She needed it all. She needed Shane, naked, over her, in her, around her. Shaky fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, greedy with the need to feel his chest, smooth, bare, warm.
She felt so much. She felt shaken with the extent of her need for him, knowing this would not be enough.
She almost couldn’t remember why she was leaving this man, except she knew it was important and she didn’t really have a choice. She longed to ask him to come with her back to LA, but before the words could even form in her head, she knew how stupid they were. Of course he wouldn’t leave Kilkenny. His career, his family, his life were all here. If he’d wanted to leave he would have gone with Trista.
So this night had to last the rest of her life, had to fill the emptiness her life would be without Shane in it. Her throat quivered and ached and she slid her hands inside his shirt finally, over hot sleek skin. Her fingers played in the silky patch of hair, her palms brushed over the hard bones of his shoulders. Strength and security and honor emanated from him.
She pushed his shirt back off his shoulders and tasted the skin of his chest with her lips and tongue, sliding lower, until she kissed the quivering flesh of his belly below his navel. She fumbled with his button and zipper, and he helped her reveal the throbbing, hot erection beneath. Her mouth watered and opened instinctively to taste him, to take him in and she breathed through her lust for enough patience for him to stand up and get rid of his pants and underwear.
Her eyes drank in the sight of him, long, hard, thick, and her hands reached for him. She rose to her knees on the bed and he let her stroke him. She loved his rough moan. She tested the weight of him, of his heavy balls, bent her head to suck him in.
His low growl inflamed her, his hands in her hair sent a barrage of sparks over her body, and pleasure swelled inside her, almost unbearably sweet.
“Keara, God, your mouth. Suck me.” He groaned. “Suck me, just like that.”
His voice splintered and her body burned, her mouth loving him, her hands admiring him. She wanted it all. But he pulled out of her mouth, and stood, holding himself, panting.
Now she was the one who moaned, her lips swollen, mouth aching for more.
“Inside you,” he muttered, and he pushed her down to the mattress with a dominance that thrilled, yet with a gentleness that moved her. The knowledge that this man had all that inside him—the overriding need to protect not just ones he loved, but everyone, and the strength and courage and conviction to carry that out—made her feel like her heart was going to explode.
He twisted and turned her body out of the formfitting dress. She wore no bra and her panties had already disappeared. He cupped her breasts, stared at them reverently, kissed and licked and nibbled them until sensations sparked over her body, pinpricks of pleasure racing over her, her nipples glowing points of pleasure, a hot aching need building between her legs.
His body inside her felt right. Perfect. Complete. They fit together, they moved together in an intimate, dazzling rhythm. Their quiet sighs and the sounds of their slick bodies moving together filled his dusky bedroom. She felt safe. She felt desired.
She felt so much.
He took her higher, sliding a hand between them to find her clit, to make sure she came again, and she loved him for that. He found the exact place, rubbed with a sure and perfect touch. Inside her, he thrust deep, filling her almost to the point of pain, a sweet pain. Everything drew up inside her tighter, higher, to a sharp point of ecstasy, and then even higher yet, higher than she’d ever been, so high she was scared. And then she burst and shattered and shuddered, clinging to him with her hands, her teeth sinking into his shoulder.
They pressed through their orgasms together, long, blinding, wrenching spasms, until they lay wrapped around each other in perfect intimacy and saturated rapture. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder where she’d bitten him, and when she felt wetness there she realized she was crying.
She felt so much.
