Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) (19 page)

The tub wasn’t huge, but deep enough to fit her tiny form up against mine. Her cheek rested on my chest as she curled into my arms, and I soaped up the washcloth to gently cleanse her skin. Massaging the fine muscles of her arm, up over her shoulder to sweep away the last traces of those maggoty bastards who had touched her.

She had no clue that she was too good for them. Feckin’ hell, she was too good for
me
.

After some time, I turned her body and coaxed her to lie back so I could wash her hair. It surrounded me as it floated in the water, wrapped around my arms and spread over my chest like burgundy silk.

The water began to grow cool, but I couldn’t seem to stop touching her. I’d dreamt of her, I’d wanted her for so very long. I couldn’t bear to let her go, but the chill of the water started to soak into our skin, and Fliss’ teeth began to chatter slightly. I finally released the drain and stood behind her, stepping out of the tub and offering her a hand to do the same. Tucking a towel around my waist, I wrapped another one around her shoulders, rubbing softly to warm her cool flesh. Her makeup was washed away. Her hair was wet and hanging around her shoulders. She looked pale and still a little broken.

But she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

Her large, deep blue eyes opened to look up at me. Her soft lips parted ever so slightly, almost a sad smile, but not quite. I touched my mouth to hers, just a little faint brush of lips, and her body melted into mine as she kissed me back like it would last forever.

Then she led me to her room. She pulled me down to lay beside her. To wrap her in my arms and love her like I’d wanted to for so many years. Slow, sweet, and tender. Worshipping her beauty and her spirit. The girl I’d first met and the woman she’d become, perfect in her imperfection.

She rose up over me, barely illuminated by the city lights that filtered in the window, and took me inside, slowly giving herself to me again. Her curves faintly lit while her hips gently rocked against me, drawing out every push and pull of my length inside her. I felt a tremor run through her as the beads of my piercings caressed her so deep inside, and my hand steadied her hip as I moved beneath her to do it again. Over and over until she was so close, so ready.

Rolling the two of us, I covered her, picking up speed with my thrusts. Burying my face in the sweet smell of her hair as she stiffened and trembled, letting go with a sweet, soft cry. I kissed her hard as I let loose, myself, filling her once again.

And I held her tight as she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

The gray dawn of morning had everything twisting inside me.

I woke slowly, cracking my eyes open to see the crimson hair spread across the pillow. It almost felt like a dream at first, having her with me. For so long I’d wanted to see this… her face soft and sweet while she slept in my arms. Her naked body tangled with mine after all those years of longing for her seemed too incredible to be real.

My eyes wandered down the pale skin of her shoulder to her arm tucked around a pillow. I lay spooned close behind her, tracing my fingertips along her smooth skin when I caught a glimpse of ink barely covered by the sheet. Pulling the fabric gently away, I saw it, the beautiful script tattoo that spread across her ribs just under her breast.

Always hungry,

Craving,

Desperate and fading,

A twisted, tortured memory

Of you

The lyrics.

The exact same words on my forearm. The ones a bunch of us fellas had gotten when Trent died.

I hadn’t realized Fliss had gotten them, too.

A sudden burning pain shot through me, full of guilt and anger. Frustration for finally caving in. I was a feckin’ bastard for what I’d done. After everything he’d once done for me, here I’d desecrated his memory by fucking his girl.

Carefully, not wanting to wake her, I pulled away. A sharp stab of longing pierced my heart as Fliss whimpered faintly in her sleep. A choking lump filled my throat, and my eyes burned.

It was that painful to leave her. It felt like I was ripping my body in two. Tearing out my heart and squeezing the air from my lungs. Every bit of me wanted to stay there in that warm bed with her.

But I couldn’t. It killed me to leave, but I did. The guilt simply suffocated me.

So I quickly dressed and quietly left her there sleeping, blissfully unaware of the torment that ripped me away.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. One week went by, then another. And another. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. My chest ached and everything felt so incredibly hollow. I couldn’t focus on anything, not even writing music. All I could think about was misery. Loneliness. Guilt. I couldn’t even use it to form lyrics. I just felt so numb and incoherent.

Only two, maybe three weeks left, and she’d be heading back to Butte.

It was seeing the tat that made me bolt that morning, the reminder of Trent. It was like seeing his brand on her, his mark of ownership. It had been the knowledge that she would be leaving, though, the knowledge that I may never see her again, that kept me away.

She’d been it, everything, for so long and I’d wanted her for what seemed like forever. Yet, every dream I’d had of her had paled in comparison to reality.

Because actually touching her, actually loving her, had been phenomenal. Amazing. Unbelievable. She had triggered something so deep inside me, something that I couldn’t imagine ever feeling for anyone again. It had been planted all those years ago at Tech and was almost killed off by her relationship with Trent. Just a little thread had held it in place. Held her close to my heart. The faintest of bonds, yet it was strong and true, and it came to life when she needed me.

It ignited my soul when I needed her.

After moping around my parents’ place for a few days, I started wandering around Temple Bar, wondering if I might bump into her. As though I could then tell myself that it was random. Kismet. At one point, I caught sight of the dogging fellas, who awkwardly ducked away when they saw me.

But Fliss was nowhere to be seen.

In an effort to find her, but not to be ridiculously obvious about it, I found myself wandering the cobblestone square of Trinity College. Searching for a glimpse of her deep scarlet hair in the gray Dublin light. I wandered through the exhibition in the Old Library and stared for a while at the harp that belonged to Brian Boru. I examined the busts of Aristotle and Homer, hoping for some sort of enlightenment on this way I felt. I wanted a release from this strange gripping sensation that tore me apart.

And still, no sign of her.

So, finally, I broke down. I had to see her. I had to explain. I had to… do
something
before she went back to the States and left my world forever.

So I went to her flat.

Standing in the entryway of the building, I pressed the buzzer a couple times until the door released. My heart was pounding to the point where I thought it was going to leap right out of my chest.

She was going to be right furious with me. She had every reason to be.

Yet it wasn’t Fliss standing there in the hall. It was her flatmate, Maeve. This both panicked me and relieved me, an odd combination swirling through my gut, to be sure.

“I was wondering if it had something to do with you,” she mused as I stepped out of the lift.

“Eh? I’m not sure I follow ya,” I replied as I came closer.

“Felicity. She’s been quite out of sorts for the past couple weeks since we saw you, like she’s away with the faeries or something. A complete shift from the girl who first arrived here.”

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead to ease the constant strain. “I hate to admit it, but you may be right. It might very well have something to do with me.”

“She is home every night, holed up in her room, studying away, even on the weekends. She’s acting like Brigit, never goin’ out to let off steam.”

“Is she here now?” I asked.

Maeve shook her head. “She should be shortly, though. She’s off at the archives. I think she may be trying to finish up early, like she’s wanting to get back home.”

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall, studying the ceiling for a moment, looking for some divine clue on how to make this right. I didn’t know if anything could, really, but I had to try.

“Would you mind if I waited here for her?” I finally asked.

“Not a bit,” she said. “I’m heading out and Brigit’s gone for the weekend, but that wouldn’t be a problem, I don’t think. She shouldn’t be long.”

So I sat there on the couch flipping through the channels wondering what in the feck I was going to say when Fliss came through the door. An hour later, when I heard the key in the latch, I still hadn’t figured it out. As I heard her drop her pack and hang her coat, my mind frantically raced.

Then she stepped into the room, and my mind went completely blank.

She seemed to be having the same problem, seeing me standing in her living room. Her face drained of color, and her eyes looked so very tired and haunted. She blinked slowly, once, as though she was trying to determine if I was real or imaginary.

“Howya, Fliss,” I said.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, and her voice was hoarse with unfiltered emotion.

“I had to see you,” I offered, shaking my head slowly. “I couldn’t leave things like I… well, like I left them. Like I left you.”

She didn’t move except for the faint tremble of her hands as she fiddled with her sweater.

“How did you get in here?” she asked after a lengthy, uncomfortable silence.

“Your girl, Maeve, was here when I got here. She let me in.”

Fliss turned her face to the side, biting her lip as she furrowed her brow.

“Don’t be angry with her,” I said, “She was a bit worried about you, so she let me stay when she had to go.”

“Worried?” she seemed to think aloud. “Why should she be worried? I’m behaving myself… for once.”

“That’s maybe why she’s worried,” I said with a sad smile. “That’s not really like you. I don’t think anyone has to know you too well to know that.”

She looked back over to me with suspicion evident in her eyes. The brilliant blue had a stormy glint to it, a flash of some deeply set pain. With a lift to her chin, she took a few steps closer to me where I stood by the couch.

“So why are you here then?” she asked with a cold anger as she stood trembling in hollow defeat. “To apologize… again? For leaving me this time? Or are you going to apologize for fucking me in the first place?”

“Well,” I dryly mused, “you’re always one to get right to the point, aren’t ya?”

She crossed her arms and stood there in silence, waiting for me to answer. So I swallowed hard and gave it a go.

“Fine,” I began, “I’ll do me best.” My voice caught, and I took a long deep breath before I could continue. “I panicked. I woke up next to you, and I… all I could think about were the reasons why we shouldn’t have done what we did.”