Breakaway (35 page)

Erin swiped at her eyes. “I’m so glad. You don’t know. This thing was killing me.”

“Me, too. God, the tears. And still I wouldn’t bend. ‘Pride goeth before a fall’—isn’t that what it says in the Bible? Well, I fell, all right. I just hope you can forgive me.”

Erin took a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her mother’s wet eyes. “How you could ever think I wouldn’t forgive you is a mystery to me.”

“I haven’t been the most pleasant creature to be around.”

“I know.”

Her mother looked caught off guard, then smiled. “It’s all going to be good from now on, Erin, I promise you that. I can’t wait to help you plan your wedding—that is, if you don’t mind.”

“You can help,” Erin warned, “but—”

“I know, don’t go criticizing and that. So help me God, I won’t.”

“Good.” Erin paused. “How’d you get in here without anyone seeing you?”

“People did see me. I just walked in as if it was no big deal and no one seemed to give a toss. Except Bettina. She was right on my tail comin’ in here. I told her to please keep her gob shut about it until I’d talked to you. Now that things worked out the way I hoped they would, she’ll be grabbin’ a megaphone to tell the whole world.”

“Where’s Da?”

“Driving Mr. Russell to see his sister in Clifden, since his car is in the shop. Apparently she’s got a nice place on the Sky Road. They fight like cats and dogs, though. It’ll be a miracle if he lasts the weekend.”

“I can’t believe Da’s letting Mr. Russell’s bony arse cheeks touch the seat of his car.”

“I know. But sometimes people can surprise us, no?”

Erin smiled happily. “They can. And when it’s the people you love, that’s the best.”

Erin and Rory were snuggled up tight in Erin’s room at Liam and Aislinn’s. The party had run very late—three a.m.—but everyone seemed to enjoy it right down to the last minute. Erin was sure Jack would have kept the Oak open all night if people wanted, but seeing as three was way past the legal time for last call, keeping it open till the sun began peeping through the windows would have been pushing his luck a bit.

The evening had gone too quickly. She’d been flying high before she and her mother made up, but afterward, the night was pure bliss. Erin was certain she could never, ever be happier. Surrounded by those she loved, she felt both cherished and invincible. She just wished her brother, Brian, could have come from Liverpool. Rory’s gran was missing, too. “Too tired,” she’d told Rory. “Besides, she knows I’m proud of her.”

“Feels like sinning, the two of us here in this bed,” said Erin, nestling closer to Rory.

“I know. But you know how Gran feels about premarital sex.”

“Same as my parents. If not letting us sleep together under the same roof allows them to maintain their fantasy of chastity, it’s really no big deal.”

Rory looked amused. “They’ve been maintaining the fantasy for years.” There was awe in Rory’s eyes as they held hers. “It was wonderful to watch you tonight.”

“What are you on about?”

“The way your happiness just lit up the room. What’s the word? Incandescent. That’s what you were. Gran would say you were filled with the holy light.”

“She wouldn’t be saying it right now if she knew the unholy thoughts chargin’ through my head.”

Rory propped himself up on one elbow. There was arousal in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me some of them?” He gently nipped her earlobe. “Better yet, why don’t you show me?”

Erin kissed him with great gentleness, her entire body slowly coming to life even though the kiss was more that of careful courting lovers than two who knew each other intimately, both inside and out.

Rory kissed her back, but there was nothing chaste about it. His lips pressed against hers were hard, demanding. Erin eagerly succumbed, her tingling body her confessor.

He drew her as close as he could. The embrace. It was solid and reassuring, yet unmistakably possessive at the same time. She wound her arms around his neck, held on tight. She was all his. He took his mouth from hers, softly pressing his mouth to her throat. She was beginning to get breathless, that old familiar feeling of ease and desire. He knew just where she wanted to be kissed and how.
I remember,
his body was telling her.
I remember everything.

His kisses became more teasing, more challenging. Erin grabbed his face hungrily, claiming his mouth with hers. Rory drew her to him even closer, no hiding his greed, his cock twitching against her thigh. Reaching down with one hand, Erin wrapped her hand around it and began pumping. He flexed his body against her, his heavy breath begging. He put a hand on hers. Slowed it down. He made her tighten her grip ever so slightly, but slowed the rhythm. Rory’s groans of pleasure were making it harder and harder to ignore what she wanted. She draped a leg over his hip and ground herself against him, knowing he’d be able to feel her wetness there.

Rory smiled at her wickedly. “Trying to tell me something?”

Erin smiled seductively and pulled him atop her, drawing her knees up toward her chest. She wanted him deep.

Rory took her arms, pushing them high over her head. She was prisoner, but just for a moment. When he pushed inside her, her hands broke free. She had to touch him while he moved inside her. Caress him. Spur him on by digging her nails into his back. But he wouldn’t let her. He grabbed her by the wrists and, once again, pulled her arms over her head.

The thrusting turned rougher. She liked the way he held her down. He asked her if she wanted it hard. She did. Erin began shivering uncontrollably as Rory hammered himself into her, his eyes never moving from her face. She knew he wanted to see the moment when it became too much for her. She succumbed mere seconds later, gasping with pleasure as her body shuddered, the aching inside subsiding.

Her breath was coming hard and fast as she arched against him. No verbal incentive needed. Rory slammed into her mercilessly, driven by the old need to devour. When he could take no more, he groaned and, with one final thrust of his body, left his senses behind.

“Ah, screw Crosshaven and Moneygall. The only place to be on a Saturday night is the Oak.”

Rory’s toast as he touched pint glasses with her, Jake, and Sandra was dead-on, Erin thought. The four of them had gone to a Moneygall pub and a Crosshaven pub the week before, just for a change of pace. Neither came close to the Oak, though. The bar offerings were the same, but both were dominated by a sense of commerce that the Oak lacked. The warmth felt slightly contrived, the bands a little too slick. It was as if both places were created to cater to tourists who imagined that this was what an authentic pub experience might be like. Erin and Rory knew there had to be a true local pub hidden somewhere in those towns, but they couldn’t find it.

Even though the Oak was getting its fair share of tourists these days, Jack and Bettina had always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. It was that no-nonsense approach that helped make the Oak, the Oak. No one gave a toss that Chuck Clayton really couldn’t carry a tune for his life, or that the Holy Trinity would die on their stools, bodies
slumped over the bar, or that all the tables in the place wobbled, and had for years. The Oak belonged to them, the people of Ballycraig.

Erin looked around sentimentally and sighed deeply. “I’ve not even gone and already I’m dreamin’ about when I’ll be comin’ back to visit.”

“And when will that be?” Rory asked, sounding slightly irritated. They’d been going round and round on the issue.

“You tell me,” said Erin. “I mean, you’ve got to be back in training camp in September, and I have to look for a job…”

Sandra’s face fell. “Will you not be home for Christmas, at least?”

“’Course we will,” Erin said.

Rory looked at her a bit crossly.

“We’ll try our best,” she corrected.

Erin and Rory had at least worked this much out: they’d try to spend Thanksgiving with his parents in the States, then come back to Ballycraig for Christmas, if they could work around the Blades’ schedule. Her uncle Charlie and aunt Kathleen were thinking of coming over for the holidays as well, which would send her da and Liam over the moon.

“Maybe when you’re back, we could go up to Dublin one day and look at wedding dresses,” Sandra suggested eagerly.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while,” Erin declared. She and San shopping in Dublin…it would be brilliant.

Rory sipped his lager. “Who’s on babysitting duty tonight?” he asked Sandra.

“Lucy, if you can believe it. Something must’ve happened to shake that girl up, because she’s been as good as gold.”

“Maturing, I’d say.” Erin cast a surreptitious glance at Jake. Rory had told her what Jake had done.

“She’s broken up with that weasel as well.”

“Thank Christ.”

They were having a good-natured argument over the singer Adele (Rory and San hated her, Erin and Jake thought she was pretty damn good) when a tall, thin, well-dressed woman entered the Oak. Her wavy bobbed hair was shining, and she carried herself with sophistication. At the bar, she seemed to fall quickly into conversation with Liam, who was jawing away with her like he’d known her for years.

“I wonder who that is,” Sandra said, giving her a thorough once-over. “Dead classy. Really put together. So what’s she doin’ here?” she joked.

They all laughed.

A few minutes later, the woman appeared at their table. “Hi. I just wanted to introduce myself: my name is Wendy Dann. I’m a literary agent here from New York to talk to PJ Leary. I know Quinn O’Brien pretty well, which is why I thought I’d stop by the table.” She smiled shyly at Rory. “He told me there was a player for the New York Blades in Ballycraig as well.”

Rory grinned. “That’d be me.” He held out his hand. “Rory Brady.”

Wendy gave Rory the once-over, which annoyed Erin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Big fan, are you?”

Wendy blushed. “I’m new to it, actually. My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, actually—was a big Blades fan. We split up and here I am, hooked on hockey.”

“My heart’s breakin’ for ya, love,” said Sandra, drinking down more of her Black Velvet. “Truly.”

Erin gave her a dirty look. She didn’t want this Wendy thinking that Rory’s people were coarse and snide. As if Rory seemed to care; his attention was still focused on Wendy.

“I can’t believe you know Quinn. I’ve never seen you two bendin’ the elbow at the Wild Hart.”

Wendy smiled discreetly. “We usually tip elbows at literary parties.” She leaned in closer to Rory. “He hates those parties, but he’s shopping a book around.”

“Now that is a prime piece of blackmail,” said Rory. “Thanks for the tidbit.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Sandra jerked a thumb in Erin’s direction. “Hey, since we’re talking about Quinn and Liam, it might be nice, Rory, if you point out that Erin here is their cousin.”

Wendy smiled at Erin. “Are you? That’s lovely.”

Erin just nodded, like some kind of tongueless fool. She felt like a lower life-form compared to this Wendy, who was dressed so simply yet so stylishly, while here she was in nothing but faded jeans and an old concert T-shirt, not a lick of makeup on her face. Then there was Wendy’s voice, so confident and low. Were all Manhattan women like this, so smooth and charming? If so, she was royally screwed. The worst part was, she could see how taken Rory was by her.

He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table. “C’mon, Wendy, join us.”

Wendy looked put on the spot. “No, really, I couldn’t.”

“Don’t be daft. Sit down.”

Sandra shot Erin a distinct look of displeasure. It wasn’t hard to figure out why: Jake’s eyes were glued to Wendy’s breasts.

Sandra smiled at Rory sweetly. “Might be nice if you introduce us all.”

“Well, Sandra here is the impatient one,” Rory said pointedly.

Wendy smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

Sandra said nothing.

“Don’t be like this,” Erin whispered. “Just be polite. Play along. Hopefully she’ll go away soon.”

“I feckin’ hope so.”

“This bruiser over here is my best mate, Jake,” Rory continued with pride.

“Are you a hockey player, too?”

Everyone looked at one another.