Ramsay (17 page)

We turned over our three cards and then at the same time, revealed our final card. Me: three, Brogan: four. "Damn," I sighed. "All right. Do you want a truth or dare?"

He propped himself up a little higher. "Truth." He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. "You said you haven't been with anyone, since me." He paused and my breath hitched slightly. "But have you dated? Is there anyone . . ." He seemed to still as he waited for my answer, but his expression didn't hold any hint of whether or not he cared overly much about my answer. I sat up and grabbed my glass of wine off the bedside table where I'd placed it and took a drink, returning to the position I'd previously been in on the bed.

"I didn't date much in college—not until the end anyway. I, well, the pregnancy . . . and then like I said, my dad passed away during my first year. After that, I kind of kept to myself. I dated a little bit during my senior year, but no one special. I've dated a little since I've been home, but mostly, the company and all our family problems have kept me occupied. I haven't felt like I had much to give to another person. Does that answer your question?"

He nodded slowly, and our eyes lingered for a few heartbeats, causing a warm flush to move through my body. Brogan picked up his cards and I did the same. My eyes ran down his muscular legs, my gaze resting on the way one foot rubbed unconsciously at the cuff of the opposite leg of his jeans. He was testing textures even with his feet. For some reason, that caused a shiver to run down my spine and my nipples to tighten.

After only two more cards, there was another war. When Brogan won again, I shot him a speculative look. "You sure you're not cheating somehow?"

He smirked. "I give you my word."

"Hmm." I gave him a suspicious glance and he chuckled. "Okay, shoot."

He reached over and grabbed his wine glass off the bench at the end of the bed and took a sip. Turning back to me, his expression was serious. His finger moved down the piece of silk at the edge of the pillowcase and I watched it, back . . . forth.

"The women," he finally said. "How did you know? How did you know that had been difficult for me?" A fleeting look of vulnerability passed over his face and I blinked.
Brogan.

"I . . . I remembered you seem to . . ." I looked away, not sure how to phrase what I was trying to say. "You always seemed to have very heightened senses. I watched you." My eyes shifted away. I felt vulnerable myself, as if in answering this question, he'd understand just how
much
I'd watched him, noticed his every movement, every reaction, how much I'd thought about him.
He knew now.
"You always got this look on your face when you were dealing with two sensations at the same time—a sort of . . . pain almost, as if it were too much. It intrigued me."

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, that's what it's like." Our gazes clashed, something powerful leaping between us.

"I know," I said. "I don't know exactly how I know. I just do. I did."

"My mother said I was a terrible baby, crying constantly." He laughed, a small sound containing little humor. His tongue found the imperfect tooth and ran slowly over it.

I tilted my head, watching him, taking my lip into my mouth again. His gaze moved to my mouth and lingered there the way mine had just lingered on his. "It must have been awful not to be able to explain what you were feeling, how everything was
too much
."

"I've never tried to explain it. And no one's ever noticed. I just—"

"Deal with it. Stand apart from people, hold your breath sometimes. I know."

His gaze leapt to mine, and he looked almost stricken for a brief moment. He cleared his throat but when he spoke, it was still slightly scratchy. "Yes." He picked up his cards and looked down at his hands holding them, looking as if he was grappling with his own thoughts. He didn't like that I knew that about him. I didn't blame him. I supposed he considered it very personal. Maybe even the most personal thing about him.

"Your eyes aren't bionic, though," I said, attempting to lighten the mood, to set him at ease.

He looked confused for a brief moment and then set his cards down and reached up and adjusted his glasses, his lip curving upward. "Bionic?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, you're sort of like a superhero with your bionic senses."

His eyes met mine, drooping lazily. He lay back fully on his pillow, folding his arms behind his head. "You know what else I can sense, Mo Chroí?" he asked. "You want me. I can smell it." His eyes wandered down to my crotch and then slowly back up to my eyes. He watched me, waiting to see how I'd react to that comment.

I felt color rush to my face.
Jesus.
"You're trying to shock me and make me uncomfortable because that's how I've just made you feel," I whispered. "But you asked me, Brogan. You asked me, and I gave you the truth. And now you're punishing me for it."

He kept staring at me, his expression seemingly a mixture of tension and shame and a small bit of confusion. He let out a harsh breath, closing his eyes. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're right," he said. He sat up, tossing his glasses onto the bench behind him and then moving toward me until he was leaning over me. "But you want my truth, Lydia? I'll give you this one willingly. I want you, too." He paused, intensity vibrating between us as my pulse jumped and my breath hitched. "I want you so bloody much I feel like I'll die from it." As if in a dream, I leaned up slightly, and he gripped my upper arms and guided me until I was on my knees as he was, my body pressed against his, our breath mingling.

"We still have another round," I whispered hurriedly, glancing down at the cards. I needed to think. I needed to get my thoughts in order. This was  . . . this was . . .

"It's a war," he said evenly. "And I win. You don't have any high cards left."

I licked my lips, believing him.
Wanting to believe him even if he wasn't telling the truth
. "And what will you ask of me? Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said immediately.

"Brogan," I breathed, knowing where his thoughts were headed, knowing the nature of what he'd ask of me. And knowing I'd agree. My eyelids fluttered against my will. "We'll destroy each other. Again. You know we will." And yet, my hands came to his shoulders and I clutched him there, my actions contradicting my words of protest. I felt the current of our electricity running beneath my palms—the spark that had always existed between us. We'd indulged it once, and it had ruined us both. I feared now would be no different . . . and perhaps worse.

"Then let's at least destroy each other properly this time." His voice was low and slightly gravelly, and a shiver ran down my spine. He brought his lips to my neck and licked down my throat. I moaned a desperate sound of longing as if it had been lodged in my airway for seven long years. Sensation shot straight between my legs, my nipples hardening.

"Brogan . . ."

"Lie back," he instructed. I looked at him questioningly, but did as he said, scooting up the bed until my head was on the pillows where I slept. "I'm going to cash in on my dare."

Brogan

Her eyes held mine, waiting. Her breath seemed to be suspended as I moved closer to where she now lay. "I want ya to show me," I said, barely controlling my voice. I could hear my accent emerging and I didn't attempt to control it. I suddenly
wanted
to be myself with her, not the cleaned-up, polished version I'd extended so much effort to become. Not him. Not right now.

Tonight I was reminded again just how much she'd known me—the
real
me. More than anyone else. And she'd been right that my initial reaction had been to punish her for her knowledge and insight. Because it scared me and made me feel raw . . . but it was also a freedom. A freedom I hadn't felt in seven long years.

She blinked. "Show you what?"

"Show me how ya used to touch yourself when thinking of me. Show me what ya did, Lydia."
I'd lie in bed and think about it, my hands wandering over my skin, pretending they were your hands touching me, stroking me.
I'd moved those words aside earlier because we'd been discussing more important things, but I couldn't move them aside now, nor did I want to. I wanted to explore them thoroughly.

I'm cashing in on my dare.

The pulse in her neck jumped, color rushing to her cheeks. I had been halfway turned on the entire time we'd been playing cards, but now I was practically
buzzing
with need, my erection pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans, suddenly so aroused, I could barely focus.

Her eyes lingered on mine for several moments, her pupils dilated, her lips parted, before her expression softened into acquiescence—and something I swore looked like relief. She was going to do as I asked. A hot rush of desire headed south and landed between my legs, my entire body tightening.
Holy feck.
I watched as she began unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her dress, her blue-green eyes trained on my face. Christ, but she was gorgeous. I tried to hold eye contact, but my gaze was wrenched to what she was doing with her hands, each new glimpse of skin making my heart rate increase and my breath catch. When the last button came undone, her dress fell open, revealing her silvery-blue bra and underwear. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders, slipping her arms free. My eyes roamed over her greedily, and I heard a small groan come up my throat, unbidden. It'd been so long since I'd seen her like this, and she was even lovelier than I remembered.

Lydia. Beautiful. My everlasting dream.

Her hand moved tentatively down her flat stomach until she came to the waistband of her underwear. She paused momentarily, as if she was rethinking what she was doing, and I swallowed, desperate to watch. Desperate to taste, to touch. Just . . . desperate.
Please don't stop.

"One summer day," she said, her voice low and breathless, "I was lying by the pool and you were nearby shoveling mulch into our flowerbeds." Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear and my eyes followed as if in a trance. "After an hour or so, you took off your shirt and used it to mop up the sweat on your face. God, Brogan," she let out a small sigh, "you were the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. I watched your muscles tighten and flex, the way sweat gathered at the base of your back and gleamed on your chest, and it was all I could do not to move my hands just as I'm doing now."

Her lips parted on a small moan and she closed her eyes as her fingers dipped lower. My cock throbbed helplessly.
Jaysus.
I wondered if I might embarrass myself by coming in my pants before I'd even touched her.

"That night I was lying in my bed, and I was still so turned on. I kept picturing those lines on the inside of your hips and the way I could see veins on your stomach that disappeared into your pants. I wanted to trace those veins with my tongue. I wanted to find out where they went. I closed my eyes and let my fantasy take over. You had stopped your work and joined me at the pool. I pretended you had asked if you could cool off and then hadn't been able to resist the sight of me in my skimpy swimsuit and had come over to my lawn chair and climbed on top of me." She let out a breathless little whimper as her fingers moved beneath the thin material of her underwear, pleasuring herself. I watched, fascinated, as her cheeks flushed with arousal and the pulse in her neck beat insistently under the delicate skin of her smooth throat. My eyes heavy, my head foggy with desire, I watched as she used her other hand to reach up and unhook the clasp at the front of her bra, her beautiful breasts popping free of the lace as she shrugged off the skimpy material. Oh, dear God in heaven. My dick pulsed again, and I felt pre-cum practically pouring out of my tip, my blood heating another three million degrees.

"I pretended my own hands were yours, Brogan. I've always loved your hands." Her fingers continued to move inside the underwear she was still wearing and she used her other hand to run one finger around a nipple. I watched, entranced, as it puckered. She moaned. "You'd know just how to touch me, just what I liked, what I needed. It was the first time I brought myself to orgasm."

"Lydia," I said, my voice shaky and sounding as if it were coming from somewhere far away. I moved closer, taking her hand from beneath the lacy material of her underwear and replacing it with my own. Her eyes popped open, hazy with lust. I watched her for a moment, waiting for some sign of approval. She closed her eyes again and arched into my hand. I let out a harsh exhale of relief, moving closer. She brought her hands to my arms, gripping my biceps. The room went dim. "Lydia," I choked out. I didn't know exactly how to tell her that if she touched me, I'd lose all control.
Please understand, Lydia. Please understand because I need you too . . . so much right now.

She opened her eyes again, comprehension pouring through the lust, and I let out a relieved breath.
She. Understood. She . . . knows me.
Reaching over her head, she held eye contact as she gripped the bars of the bed frame. My heart pounded more fiercely in my ears, blood rushing through my veins like molten gold. She was the only woman who'd ever made me feel this way.
Mo Chroí
.

I pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed them on the floor. Then I moved over her as she let out another small gurgling sound in her throat. "Let me show ya what I would have done if I had really been there," I murmured. "First I would have tasted your sweet nipples." I leaned my head down and rubbed my lips on her breasts, feeling the texture of her skin there—like hot satin—and then I licked one hardened peak, swirling my tongue around it several times before moving to the other one. Lydia's breathing increased, and she let out another sweet whimper. "God, you taste good, Mo Chroí. Like milk and honey. Still. Sweet and creamy." No woman had ever tasted this good before, no woman had even come close.
I know your flavor, Lydia, and I can't forget it. No matter what I do, I can't forget.

"Brogan," she sighed, pushing her breast toward my face. God, I loved my name on her lips.

I sucked and kissed her nipples for several minutes until she was panting with need.
Need me, Lydia. I want you to need me.
I kissed slowly down her smooth belly, my tongue dipping into her bellybutton, learning the flavors and textures of every part of her. I licked over one hipbone, feathering my lips over that smooth, taut skin, moving lower.

"I would have headed here next," I said. "I would have needed to taste ya. I would have been dying for it then just as I am now." I moved my nose just over the core of her and inhaled. She was all honey here, with just a touch of salt. Something about Lydia had always seemed
decadent.
Hadn't I always felt ravenous with hunger for her? I'd lick her and taste her and eat her in small bites until I'd had my fill. My mind went fuzzy for a brief moment with the intensity of the moment, my senses on overload.

When I leaned in and kissed Lydia's bare vaginal lips, she let out a small gasp, her hands coming off the bars of the bed momentarily before she seemed to catch herself and put them back where they'd been. I adjusted my position, lowering my head again, taking in more of her fragrance. "God, Lydia, you smell like heaven.
My
heaven."

"Brogan, please," she gasped. "Please . . . I need you."

Triumph surged through my blood at her words.

I used my fingers to spread her wetness, circling her swollen clit slowly, and she gasped and moaned. "God, you're soaked," I said, wanting to sink inside her so badly I was desperate with it. Desperate to join with her, to feel her heat surrounding me, to make her scream with pleasure.
Finally.

"Yes, yes," she moaned.

Leaning forward, I took her clit between my lips and sucked gently, feeling the way her heart beat here, too. Lydia writhed under me, pressing herself against my face.

"Oh God, oh God," she moaned, opening her legs wider to give me more access, the movement making me shudder with satisfaction. I used my tongue to circle the swollen bud and then pushed one finger inside her wet opening, feeling the snug clench of her muscles around my finger. It was almost enough, but not quite. I moved my finger in and out and I sucked and licked her as she uttered indistinguishable sounds, syllables that started as words and left off in breathy gasps. I was mindless, too, the only thought in my head her satisfaction, my only goal to leave Lydia boneless with pleasure. This time I wanted to do it right. I wanted to fuck her in every way possible, and so thoroughly she'd never want anyone else to touch her except me. I growled against her wet flesh, and she bucked into me, screaming as she came against my face.

A fierce burst of pride moved through me as her body shuddered and clenched with pleasure. "Oh, oh Brogan," she moaned. "Oh God, yes."

Moving up her body, I brought my mouth to hers before she'd even opened her eyes. We kissed deeply for long moments before I brought my hand back down between her legs and used the heel of my hand to massage her pubic bone gently, right above her still throbbing clit. "Come for me again, Mo Chroí," I said, putting my mouth back on hers and probing her lips with my tongue. Her mouth stopped moving, and I opened my eyes to see that hers were opened, too.

"I . . . I don't think . . ." she whispered against my lips, but then her head fell back on a moan as I continued to work my hand. "Oh God, Brogan, I think I am, I—" She arched into my hand on a small scream as she came again, moving her head back and forth on the pillow. I circled my hand more and more slowly until I came to a stop.

Lydia opened her eyes, her expression baffled and drunk with pleasure. I smiled and she blinked.

"Shall we see how many times I can make your sweet body come tonight?" I whispered, leaning in and kissing her again. Her hands, which had still been gripping the bed, let go and fell limply above her head, her eyes falling closed.

For a moment, I simply watched her. God, I was stunned at how beautiful she was, limp with pleasure and waiting for more. My heart thrummed with excitement, my stomach muscles clenching.
All mine tonight.

I sat up quickly and got off the bed, going into the bathroom. Several months ago, Fionn had brought a housewarming gift when I'd first purchased this property. It was filled with liquor, massage lotion, and other items he’d deemed home essentials. I'd just remembered there were condoms in it, too. Sometimes Fionn was bloody, fecking brilliant. I went quickly to the linen closet and grabbed the box from the still unopened basket and returned to the bedroom where Lydia hadn't moved a muscle.

Tossing the box on the bedside table and stripping quickly, I moved over Lydia again. "Are ya okay?" I asked.

Lydia's expression gentled as her eyes moved over my face. She placed her open palm on my cheek. "Yes." She removed her hand and brought her lips to mine and kissed me. I melted into her. Her hand moved between us, and she wrapped her fingers around my cock as I sucked in a breath. I closed my eyes as her hand moved up and down my length, causing delicious bliss.

"Is tú amháin a bhí ann i gcónaí," I breathed, not sure if I'd said it out loud or not.

It's always been you, and no one else.

She stroked me again and again, leaning up slightly to watch her hand on my hard, pulsing flesh. Another small bead of pre-cum leaked from my tip and I groaned. "I need to be inside ya. I can't wait anymore."

She leaned back as I grabbed the box of condoms and tore it open, unrolling one and sliding it over my erection, my shaking hands making the job take twice as long as I needed it to. Lydia watched, her gaze growing hazy again. As I came back over her, I moved her arms back over her head, this time to rest on the pillow.

"Will I ever be able to touch you?" she murmured.

"Yes, Mo Chroí. Just not this time. It's been so long. Please, just not this time." She nodded, and I used my hand to guide my cock to her entrance. Her cheeks were still beautifully flushed, her lips wet and swollen from my kisses, and I gazed at her as I pressed inside, my body breaking out in a light sheen of sweat at the tight clench of her warm inner muscles squeezing my shaft. It felt so bloody good, so good. So right.
Inevitable.
This was my victory, I realized with sudden clarity. Right now, this very moment. Not money, or a company, or any amount of power.
This.
But it still wasn't enough.
More, more, more
, I wanted more. I was buried inside Lydia and even now, I wanted more of her. I always had. I felt drunk and joyful and confused and vulnerable.