Ramsay (18 page)

I began moving and a burst of pleasure made me gasp. "Ya feel so good," I murmured as I moved more quickly, the intense pleasure gripping me so I couldn't help but to speed up my thrusts, reaching for the climax I needed so desperately. I reached up and laced my fingers with Lydia's, holding her arms over her head on the pillow as I brought my mouth back to hers, thrusting my tongue in her mouth to the rhythm of our lovemaking. She wrapped her legs around my hips and moaned into my mouth. Goosebumps broke out on my skin as I held my orgasm at bay, waiting for the one I sensed might be approaching for Lydia.

After about a minute, I let go of her hands, balancing myself on one elbow next to her on the bed and bringing my other hand between us to find her small spot, still sweetly swollen. I used my thumb to rub it gently as I pounded into her, filling and retreating.

We were both moaning, Lydia meeting me thrust for thrust, when her body tensed, and she broke from my mouth, sobbing out another orgasm. The feel of her falling apart beneath me—the clenching of her inner muscles—sent me flying over the edge, and I thrust into her one final time, groaning out my own climax as the pleasure swirled through my abdomen, to my cock, and all the way down to my toes. I gasped. "Holy fuck, Lydia, God." I had never come so hard in my life. I circled my hips slowly, trying to draw out every last bit of pleasure.

Finally, I pulled out of her slowly, and Lydia let out a small whimper. I smiled against her neck, feeling amazed and . . . satisfied. The most satisfied I'd ever felt in my entire life. This . . . this was what I'd wanted all along.
Her.
Always her. I rolled off Lydia, pulling her with me, holding on. We were both breathing heavily, Lydia's face pressed to my chest. I suddenly realized there was wetness rolling down my skin and I startled, leaning up to look at her face. "Hey," I said, "what is it?" She tipped her head back and her gaze was watery, her lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes widening as if she was as perplexed as I was by her tears. "I, I don't know why I'm crying. I just, I . . ." Her words were lost in a small sob, and she buried her face back against my chest. I pulled her tighter, offering her words of comfort. A pressure formed in my heart. Was she already regretful about what we'd done? Had she not wanted this?

"I don't regret what we did," she said as if reading my mind. "I wanted it.
So much.
It was incredible."

I turned so we were facing each other and used my index finger to tip her chin up, looking into her impossibly lovely face, drenched in emotion. I thought I understood, though. "You've been carrying a lot, Lydia. For a long time. You've had so much on your shoulders, and no one to help, no one who really understood." And what we'd just done had broken the dam. "Making love to you was intense for me too." I kissed the tip of her nose. "I feel it too, Mo Chroí."

"You do?" she squeaked.

I nodded, pulling her close. "Let it out, Lydia. Let it go. Let me hold you."
Need me, Lydia.

She curled up in my arms. And she cried. I continued to utter quiet words to her, mostly in Gaelic, the language I associated with comfort and felt safe to use without considering my words. And so I let them flow freely from my lips.

"Hush, mó ghrá."

Hush, my love.

"Mo aingeal."

My angel.

"Mó shaol."

My life.

Once her sniffles and sobs quieted and her tears seemed to dry, I pulled back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly, her breathing slow and normal. She was asleep. "Mo Chroí," I whispered, smoothing her hair back before I slipped out from beneath her. She mumbled softly in her sleep and turned over, bringing her knees up. I watched her sleep for a moment before going to the bathroom where I flushed the condom. I stood at the sink for a few moments, holding on to the countertop as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. I was grappling with so many emotions I hardly knew where to start sorting them out. I was blissfully happy to have made love to Lydia, but I was scared, too, not only of my own powerful feelings, but because of all the things that threatened to steal her from me just when I might have her back.

I let out a deep sigh, turning from the mirror and crossing my arms over my bare chest. I had created an impossible situation, and I was going to try to make it right, but there were so many reasons I might not be able to now. There were so many reasons I might lose Lydia again. I had survived it the first time, but I didn't think I'd survive it again.

I returned to bed where I climbed in and gathered Lydia to me, spooning her from behind. "Brogan," she muttered sleepily, scooting her butt back into my groin. Despite having just made love, my cock twitched against her arse with renewed interest. She let out a small snore and I kissed her shoulder, smiling against her skin.

I'd figure this out. I'd keep her close, and I'd make it right . . . somehow.

Lydia

I hummed softly, stretching my body and then turning over, burrowing back into my pillow. With the light in the room already bright, even behind my closed lids, I cracked one eye open as memories of what had happened the night before streamed through my mind. "Oh my God," I breathed, sitting up slightly and then falling back down on my pillow, my eyes wide open now, staring up at the canopy above me.

Brogan was gone, but it must have only been recently that he'd vacated the bed because when I glanced at the pillow he'd slept on, the impression of his head was still there. I smiled at the memory of his arms around me, his feet tangled with mine, something I noticed each time I half woke throughout the night.
I had never had that, but I had loved it. Loved being held. Cocooned.

When I thought about what had happened before that, I squeezed my legs together, feeling the slight ache where Brogan had been. Butterflies took flight in my belly. Did I feel embarrassed? Regretful? Maybe I should, but I didn't. I only felt deliciously sore and wonderfully satisfied, my limbs like jelly. And I felt . . . peaceful, despite no resolutions to life's problems. In fact, if anything, I'd learned that things were more complex and challenging than I thought they were.

I cringed slightly when I remembered bawling in Brogan's arms, but he'd been right. I'd just been so overwhelmed by the intensity of what we'd done, by all the mind-bending orgasms, all the pent-up emotions, all the long-held worries and problems that finally broke free in a flood of tears. I'd never cried about any of it, and the pressure had been building for years. The power of our lovemaking had finally broken the dam. And I
was
just a little embarrassed about that part, but I also thought it was the main reason I felt so good,
cleansed
. Even stronger somehow.

I swung my feet out of bed, glancing at the clock, my eyes widening when I saw it was almost noon. Walking naked to the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and tried to smooth my hair into some semblance of normalcy. Realizing it was impossible, I turned on the shower and got in, sighing as the hot, pelting water relaxed my muscles even further. After washing my hair and shaving everywhere, a small thrill went through me when I wondered if I'd sleep with Brogan again tonight.
I wanted to. God, I really did.

But I was also a little nervous about where this left us, and I still had the worry for my brother hanging over my head. The only thing I could hope for was that Brogan was able to buy Stuart some time and that Stuart would see this as a sort of wake-up call to get his life together. I felt relieved that Brogan was willing to do anything to help Stuart at all. I knew he wasn't doing it for Stuart, I knew that. He was doing it for
me
and that filled me with warmth and gratitude. And I'd help Stuart in whatever way I could, too, but if truth be told, maybe Stuart wasn't cut out to be a businessman. I'd never thought he derived much pleasure from it. He'd never seemed to really enjoy the business aspect of De Havilland Enterprises. What he'd enjoyed were the financial benefits—the ones that, eventually, he'd all but made certain would completely dry up.

Perhaps there was something else that would make Stuart happier anyway. In some ways he'd never been given an alternative—it had always just been expected that he'd run the family business when our father passed. I had to wonder now if he'd been given more of a choice, would he have chosen to do something different.

Standing in my bra and panties after having just blow-dried my hair, I heard a knock on my bedroom door and called, "Come in." Brogan came into the bathroom a few seconds later and stopped in the doorway, his eyes roaming my body. My heart lurched and a tingle started between my legs. He was wearing another pair of worn-looking jeans, resting low on his hips, and a white T-shirt with some bar logo on it. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my body, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. I bent it to the side to give him more access, shooting him a small smile in the mirror. I let my eyes linger on the way we looked together: him so tall and dark, me blonde and—though I'd never been called short at five seven—so much smaller in comparison. In so many ways we were opposites, and yet, in so many ways, we seemed like the perfect fit.
We always had.

"How are you this morning, or . . .
afternoon
?" he asked, kissing my ear again and inhaling against my hair. A thrill shot through me.
He didn’t seem to be regretful. I needed that. His happiness, too. How many years had I gone without happiness? And when had I stopped noticing?

I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck as he brought his arms lower on my waist. I tipped my head back to gaze into his face. "Very relaxed," I said. "I guess I needed the sleep . . . among other things. You sure do know how to treat your employees, Mr. Ramsay."

He chuckled. "I suppose you are still my employee, for now. Good thing there're no rules against fraternization at my company."

I raised a brow. "How convenient for you."

"Very," he murmured, bringing his lips to mine. He kissed me slowly once before pulling back. "It's killing me to cut this short, but unfortunately, I have a meeting in the city, and I have to get you all set up at my place there. Another game of war later?" He cocked a dark brow.

I laughed, letting go of his neck and scooting past him. "I thought we made a peace treaty last night."

"Is that what that was?" he asked. I heard something in his voice that caused me to turn, my shirt held to my chest. The look on his face was troubled.

I stared at him for a second. "Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Yes," he said. "More than anything. I just . . ." He ran a hand through his thick, black hair.

I dropped my shirt and walked back over to him. "Brogan, I know we have a lot to work out, and things are up in the air, but," I licked my lips and glanced away for a moment, gathering my thoughts, "I'm hopeful that if we work together, if we're honest with each other, we can figure it all out."
God, how I hoped that was what he wanted, too.

Relief washed over his face and he let out a breath, kissing my forehead. "Get dressed. Your cream puffs are distracting me. And then meet me downstairs."

I laughed as he winked and left my room.

**********

An hour later, I'd packed up, we'd eaten a quick meal, and I'd run over to say goodbye to Eileen. She'd given me a brief hug—she'd been leaving, too, for an afternoon class—and told me she was coming to dinner at Brogan's place in New York that week and we'd catch up then.

A few minutes after that we were in Brogan's car, heading for the city. He'd promised me he'd send employees for my car in the next few days so we didn't have to drive separately.

We chatted easily about mostly mundane things over the forty-five minute drive to the city. As for me, I was relaxed, but also somewhat drained emotionally from the night we'd had. I needed to take a break from the heavy topics of the day before and just sit back and listen to the radio, enjoy the scenery, and engage in easy conversation. Brogan seemed to feel the same way.

It was almost two when we pulled into the underground garage of Brogan's building in Manhattan. He grabbed my bag from the trunk and took my hand as we headed toward the nearby elevator. He keyed in a code and then pushed the button for the top floor, and we rode in silence for a minute.

"Do you split your time between here and Greenwich?" I asked.

"I spend more time here actually. But Eileen prefers Greenwich, and it's closer to school for her. I wanted her to live at the main house there, and I would have taken the guest cottage, but she insisted on having it the way it is."

I nodded, a small pang of envy making me realize how much I wished for the ease and obvious mutual respect in their sibling relationship. I'd never had that with my brother, and I wondered if I ever would. The soft ding of the elevator doors sliding open brought me out of my thoughts, and we stepped into a large, open vestibule. I followed Brogan as he walked to the only door on the floor.
Wow.
There was another keyless entry next to his door and after keying in the code we stepped into his apartment.

I was a girl who'd grown up in luxury. I was no stranger to high living, but this was jaw dropping even for me,
and
I knew, for New York City in general, where even a modest apartment could easily go for several million dollars. My apartment, which was decent enough, was a slum compared to this.

I walked into the large open area, marveling at the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls, showing off dramatic skyline views. The furniture was classy and urban, a perfect fit for the open concept space. I did note that this place was decorated with a more masculine hand than the house in Greenwich and had a feeling that although Eileen had helped with that house, this place was all Brogan.

I turned to him. "It's gorgeous."

He had been watching me as I walked about, and he seemed pleased with my approval. "Let me show you around."

I followed Brogan as he led me to the kitchen right off the main living space. It was modern and beautifully done in shades of white, black, and dark gray with a bar and three bar stools and the far wall done all in brick. "Nice," I murmured.

He pointed out three closed doors down a small hallway that led to his office, a workout room, and a bathroom and then led me up a set of open black stairs to the second floor.

He seemed to hesitate before he turned right and showed me to a guest room where he placed my bag on the bed. It was a simple space done in shades of pale blue and cream with nothing more than a bed, a dresser and a nightstand, but it featured the same stunning floor-to-ceiling windows and breathtaking city view.

Brogan walked to the window and showed me how to operate the shades that lowered from the ceiling at the touch of a button and then walked back to where I stood. "My bedroom's right across the hall," he said.

I studied him. He looked like he was struggling with something, but I wasn't sure what. Did he want me to ask him if I could stay in his room? Truthfully, I didn't know if I wanted that. And I thought for now, with him wielding all the power, it was best that I didn't. This situation was not going to last forever, but in the meantime, I thought it wise that I keep a certain distance from Brogan—even if that distance was just across the hall.

"Okay," I said.

He nodded curtly and pointed to a door next to the dresser. "Your bathroom's there. If you need anything, just let me know."

"I'll need more clothes. Can I run over to my apartment and grab some more stuff if I'm going to be here for another week or so?"

"I'll have someone run over for you. Go ahead and make a list."

"Is that really necessary? I hardly want some stranger choosing which bra of mine to pack with which outfit."

"Lydia, I don't yet know what's safe and what's not, and I'm not going to take any chances. I've just reached out to the people who hold Stuart's loans, but I haven't heard back. It's a slow process. These are not people you just call up on their personal cell phones. So until I do hear back, I insist you do as I ask—for your own safety and for your brother's as well."

I huffed out a breath. "Fine," I said, crossing my arms. "I'll make a list."

Brogan's lip tipped up in a small smile. "If you want me to go personally, I will. I'd enjoy rifling through your underwear. Plus, one good turn deserves another."

I raised a brow. "I didn't rifle through your underwear. You don't wear any."

He put his arms around my waist and pulled me close. "Are you sure? I think I might. It's difficult to remember. How about we explore the answer to that question later?" He kissed my neck and I laughed.

"Tease," I muttered. He brought his head up and gave me a crooked grin and my heart seemed to stop for a fraction of a second.
God, he had the power to slay me with his grin.

Stepping away, he laughed softly. "Make yourself comfortable. Call me if you need anything. And text me that list. I'll be home in a couple hours."

Home.
I nodded. "Okay. Oh hey," I said, and he turned at the door, "can I use your computer? I need to charge my laptop."

"Help yourself. There's no password."

He left my room and a few minutes later, I heard the front door click shut. I experienced a moment of loneliness as I stood in this strange, quiet apartment. Funny, because I was
used
to being alone, but suddenly, seemingly in less than a couple of days, I was used to Brogan's company.
I wanted Brogan's company.

I took a few minutes to unpack my bag and set my toiletries in the bathroom, and then I headed downstairs and went into Brogan's office. It seemed pretty stark and unused and I wondered if he actually did any work here or if it was more for personal use. There was a photo on his desk of two kids and I picked it up, looking closely, able to tell immediately it was Brogan and Eileen. It must have been taken in Ireland because Brogan looked like he was about twelve and Eileen looked about eight, her legs in the braces I'd known her to wear when their father had worked for us. My heart clenched at the open, joyful smile on Brogan's face. He'd been happy and untroubled. I wondered if that had been the last time . . .