Fighting For Irish (A Fighting for Love Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (22 page)

Scooting across the seat, she placed her hands on either side of his face and pinned him with a look that stopped his rant long enough for her to talk. “Enough. There’s no sense in worrying about something until we for sure know it’s an issue. And it was just as much my responsibility as it was yours. In fact,” she said with a grin while threading her fingers in his hair, “this time it’s more on me because I seduced you into it.”

His hands released their white-knuckle hold on the steering wheel to pull her in closer. “Are you saying you have the power to make me so crazy I can’t think straight, kitten?”

She gave him a fake look of pity. “Oh, Irish, I don’t have to
say
anything. I think I just proved it.”

“Hell yeah, you did.” Aiden couldn’t stop his smile. Damn if she didn’t charm him right out of a panic attack when she was the one who had every reason to be upset and worried. From the very beginning, he’d set out to rescue her, and yet every day she saved him from himself little by little. No doubt about it, she was his angel. “All right, fine. We’ll table this conversation now under one condition. That we don’t take any more chances, and you promise to tell me as soon as you know either way.”

Kat held up her right hand. “I promise. But that was two conditions.”

“Math was never my best subject. Now what do you say we get off the road and into a room.”

Chapter Nineteen

Aiden stretched out on the chaise longue in the corner of the room, his arms hooked over the back behind his head. Thanks to the open design of the room, only a large archway separated the bedroom from the large bathroom, giving him the perfect view of Kat soaking in a Jacuzzi bubble bath surrounded by candles.

Originally, he’d planned to go to the first hole-in-the-wall motel he found, but at the last minute he gave in to his need to see her indulging in a little luxury. He knew that after tonight there was no telling how long they’d be on the run until he could figure things out. He wanted her to have at least one night of worry-free pampering.

When they reached the Princeton Suites, her jaw fell slack as she stared wide-eyed at the opulence of the marble floors and massive chandeliers. As he suspected, she’d never stayed in anything nicer than a Motel 6.

Once inside their room, he’d watched with a smile on his face as she discovered different amenities like a kid at FAO Schwarz at Christmas time. Seeing her in a state of giddy, childlike wonder had filled him with a sense of rightness. One he never expected to find.

Kat exhaled and tipped her head back, her long hair piled high. Steam from the bath dampened the tendrils that framed her face. Her skin glistened in the glow of the candlelight and he could just see the swells of her breasts before they disappeared into the frothy bubbles. It didn’t take much for his imagination—or memory—to fill in the view beneath the water. However, it took a hell of a lot for him to stay put and let her enjoy the experience to her heart’s content.

She looked positively regal, surrounded by the luxury of the taupe marble and gold faucets. The massive antique mirror hanging over the double sinks gave him twice the eyeful, making him twice as turned on.

Aiden shifted on the seat and adjusted himself under his shorts. He might have the willpower to keep his distance, but there wasn’t enough willpower in the world to keep him from getting hard when it came to Kat MacGregor.

Never had Aiden been so consumed by a woman. Emotionally, physically…completely.

Kat made him feel things he never thought possible. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he could fly and stop speeding bullets. He felt invincible. He felt like her hero.

She’d wanted him to join her, but he’d had to decline. As soon as she ran the water, he’d gotten to work. Concealing himself off to the side where she couldn’t see him, Aiden had stitched the torn flesh together as fast as possible. He muffled his pained grunts and growls with a washcloth stuffed in his mouth. A couple of times, it hurt so badly he thought he might pass out. It took deep breaths and an iron resolve to remain conscious and keep going.

He’d stitched a cut on Xander once, but sewing himself up was something else entirely. It stung like a motherfucker, and he hadn’t wanted to get piss-drunk to dull the pain like Xan did. Aiden probably would’ve made an exception with his “no alcohol” rule, but he wanted to keep a clear head and stay sharp. They’d have to be on the road early tomorrow.

Once the ugly patch job was done, he’d popped some ibuprofen, showered quickly, and slapped on some ointment and a clean bandage. He’d checked the locks on the door and made sure the front desk had instructions to call the room if anyone asked about them. Aiden didn’t think any of that was particularly necessary tonight, but better safe than sorry.

Now he sat in nothing but his thin fighting shorts with his dick trying to pitch a tent while he waited for her to finish relaxing in the tub. He hoped like hell she didn’t take much longer.

He had plans for her tonight.

…

Stepping out of the large Jacuzzi tub, Kat was hyperaware that Irish watched her with a predatory gaze, making knots tighten deep in her belly. She
felt
what he saw. The soap bubbles sliding down her naked body, her nipples puckering from the chill of the air and the heat of his stare.

He looked so damn sexy lounging on a white linen Victorian chaise. His rough masculinity contrasting with its graceful curves and elegant brocade trim. His shorts rode so low on his hips she could see where his dark trail of hair from his navel turned into the trim thatch around his erection. The colors of his tattoos stood out against the light fabric, making them almost three-dimensional under the glow of the dim recessed lighting.

Someone who didn’t know him well would think he was relaxed and unaffected. But she noticed the finer details. The cords in his neck strung tight, the hollows of his cheeks deepening as he worked his jaw in impatience. Then of course was the obvious and very large bulge in the crotch region of his shorts. All signs he was poised and ready to pounce. Signs that triggered reactions within herself that continued to surprise her. It was a heady feeling knowing he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.

Using a plush towel that felt like drying off with an expensive teddy bear, she made every movement a demonstration of super-slow motion. Starting at her neck, she dragged the towel down over her breasts, then plumped them up for no other reason than to torture the man. His hands went to the waistband of his shorts, then pushed them down and off. Palming his erection, he started to stroke it almost lazily, though his eyes burned with hunger. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Now
who’s being tortured?

Touché.

Not to be outdone, she moved lower over her flat belly and past her bare mound. Then Kat faced away from him and placed one foot on the small step leading to the tub. Making sure to bend at the waist, she pushed the towel down the length of her leg in one smooth motion. She felt air caress the lips of her sex where she was now wet for reasons other than the bath.

“I didn’t know you had such a sadistic side to you, kitten.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said while pulling the towel up her other leg.

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

Not bothering to hide her smirk, she exited the open-concept bathroom. The soft pile of the carpet flowed up around the edges of her feet and between her toes. The floor-to-ceiling windows took up the entire outer wall of the room. Luxurious and heavy drapes the color of wine reminded her of curtains framing the stage of an opera house. And considering she could see her reflection perfectly in the glass, she looked like a one-woman show.

Kat briefly wondered if she would find a sticker in the corner that read “objects may appear sexier than they are” because the woman staring back at her seemed confident, alluring. The kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees, proverbial or otherwise.

So let’s give it a shot.

When she reached the bottom of the chaise, Irish dropped his feet to either side on the floor. Heat flushed between her legs at the sight of his erection jutting thick and proud from his body. She knew how smooth and hard it felt in her hands, her sex, and even her mouth. Remembering how much she enjoyed pleasuring him, she crawled up the chair. That’s when she noticed the bandage and was reminded of his wound. She’d seen it stitched up when he took a shower.

“I’m still mad you didn’t let me help with that,” she said, frowning. “Does it hurt very badly?”

He shrugged one muscular shoulder. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Well, maybe I can help you forget about it.”

“Oh, I guaran—
Fuuuck.
”

Apparently he’d lost his train of thought when she dropped her head and licked the clear, sweet drop of pre-cum from the tip of his cock. Encouraged by his reaction and hiss of breath, she took him in her mouth as far down as possible. His hips jerked, and he ground out another curse. She loved hearing how she affected him. Every grunt, every curse, heightened her pleasure as though she were the one on the receiving end.

Unfortunately, after only a few strokes, he stopped her and pulled her up. Kat didn’t bother to hide the pout at having her toy taken away. He chuckled. “As fantastic as that feels, I have other plans for tonight. And they don’t involve me coming in less than thirty seconds.”

“You’ll recover in a minute or two,” she argued. “You’re extremely virile.”

“Not
that
fucking virile.” With a sweeping move, he flipped them over, reversing their positions. “Now just let me lead, will ya?”

Kat settled against the backrest and rolled her eyes. She was about to fire off a smartass remark when she felt his hot tongue between her legs.

“Oh!”

Opening wider, she wove her fingers in his hair and tried to remember to breathe. The angle of the chaise allowed her the perfect view of Irish as he made love to her with his mouth. He lapped at the wetness coating her lips, then probed her vagina with deep strokes.

“I love the way you taste.” Replacing his tongue with a thick finger, he knelt up to hover over her. He swirled his finger deep inside her, then pulled it out and watched intently as he ran the tip over her bottom lip. “Like warm honey.”

Slowly she ran her tongue from one side to the other. His pupils engulfed the deep blue irises and he groaned in approval before capturing her in a breathless kiss. Kat tasted herself as their tongues met in an erotic dance and she moaned her approval when his hand returned to her dripping sex.

This time he penetrated her with two fingers, thrusting in and out, sometimes adding a twist that had her hips jackknifing off the couch. He added his thumb to her clit, and the tingling knot in the pit of her stomach started to spread outward.

“Watch me, baby,” he whispered and gazed down at his hand. “Watch me make you come.”

She whimpered as he eased a third finger in, stretching her to capacity. It felt so good, and the sight of his fingers sinking into her was such a huge turn-on. Everything in her tightened more and more as he fucked her. She expected a slow build, but what she got was a short fuse on a stick of dynamite.

Her nipples tightened until they ached. Moans escaped with every exhale, her breasts rising and falling with the heaving of her chest. She fisted her hands at her sides. Just when she couldn’t take any more, he used the rough pad of his thumb to circle her sensitive clit.

“Oh, God, I’m— I—
Uhhhhhn!
”

Her orgasm rippled through every cell in her body. Back arched, her insides spasmed around his fingers as the rest of her flew somewhere high in the heavens for what seemed like hours. As she floated back to herself, Irish’s deep voice slipped through her post-orgasmic haze.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he mumbled while devouring her neck and shoulder. “Come on back to me. There’s more where that came from.”

“If you’re trying to kill me, I approve of your methods,” she said.

The soft sound of his deep chuckle spread over her like a warm Sherpa blanket. She wanted to burrow deep inside and never leave its soft cocoon. “I might try to fuck you into a deep sleep, but that’s about it.” Then he tipped her chin up with a finger and met her gaze with serious eyes. “There’s no life for me anymore without you, Kat. I’ll protect you until my very last breath. I swear it.”

The intensity with which he spoke those words touched something deep in her heart she’d thought long dead. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to verbalize all the things he made her feel. Especially coming down from an explosive orgasm while still pressed together in their naked forms. Brain functionality at the moment was minimal at best.

She watched his hungry gaze roam over her from top to bottom. Taking a deep breath, he released it with a shake of his head. “You know, when I’m not with you I sometimes think my mind must be exaggerating how beautiful you are. That no one can be so flawless, so perfect.”

“Irish, I’m not—”

A finger pressed against her lips for a moment. “To me, you are,” he insisted. “It’s like you were made just for me. An angel plucked from my fantasies and given life. And somehow, when I wasn’t looking, you came to mean everything to me.”

Her throat tightened with the emotions now welling in her eyes. Irish had saved her from a dark world where despair ruled, and patiently led her into a world of light and possibilities.

And love.

At least on her part it was. She might be too afraid to risk scaring him off with the L-word, but it didn’t change the fact.

His arms wrapped around her and drew her in until their bodies were flush from chest to hips. Dipping his head, he claimed her lips in a tender kiss that took her breath away and left her reeling.

It took her several seconds to open her eyes after he broke the kiss, but when she did she found herself looking up at her future. Black hair in need of a cut, heavy-lidded blue eyes complete with varying stages of bruising, full lips with a forever-healing cut on the bottom, and enough dark scruff on his jaw to give him an I-don’t-give-a-fuck image.

And he was all hers.

Screw it. She’d promised herself that she was done letting others dictate her actions and she didn’t want to go one more minute pretending she didn’t love him with all her heart. The possibility that Irish wasn’t ready to hear it, be damn—

“I love you, kitten.”

Her eyes blew wide. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. I
love
you, Kat. More than my own life.”

Stunned silent, Kat opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish out of water. To hear those words coming from anyone, much less the man she loved in return, overwhelmed her. She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted the salty tears and Irish used his thumbs to wipe them from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back,” he whispered. “I just needed you to know.”

“But I do. I mean, I know I don’t have to say it back, but I want to because I do. I love you so damn much.”

He smiled wide. Not the kind weighed down with the years of guilt and sadness he’d carried around. No, this smile was radiant and freeing and she planned on making it her personal goal in life to make sure he wore it as often as possible. Her man—her fighter—deserved nothing less.

Throwing her arms around his neck, Kat kissed him with all the things she wanted to tell him. He met her with equal force, their tongues colliding and sliding over the other between their fused lips. His hands roamed in erratic patterns like a butterfly indecisive on which flower to land on. Finally he settled on her breasts.