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Two Years Earlier - Riverside, Oregon - March 17, 7:00 p.m.
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Breathless and shivering beneath the cold lash of rain, Katherine Chabeau left the brightly lit corner drugstore after making her purchase, and hurried down the darkened sidewalk toward Brogan’s Brass Shamrock Pub.
She’d fled the hospital twenty minutes ago, not anticipating her borrowed car would wheeze to death and leave her stranded. And ... speaking of dysfunctional, nobody in her family would come to her rescue. The car’s owner, a coworker, was having her husband come look at it tomorrow. Meanwhile, a taxi or ride sharing service wouldn’t be available to Kate for who-knew-how long, due to offering free rides to holiday bingers.
An Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day. What could be warmer? Safer? And—hello destiny—a fabulous place to carry out her impromptu plan. Determination slanted her lips into a fierce smile. Today had speared an arrow into her heart, but hopefully tonight was gonna be a whole lot better.
She was about to prove her ex-fiancé was not only a cheat, but a manipulative, lying asshole. Better late to the party than RSVPing no to Fate’s invitation, right?
She tugged open the heavy door and heated air, loud chatter, and lively music cannoned into her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Strangely reluctant, she hesitated.
Time ground to a halt for a weird, intense moment, as if the entire world was holding a collective breath.
Kate squared her shoulders. She was just walking into a damn pub. But when she stepped inside, her stomach rolled as if she’d made a life-altering choice.
Hello, overactive imagination.
Sure, she’d made a decision, but nothing that would drastically change her life.
Jostled by the roiling sea of green-clad revelers, she finally spotted a corridor leading to the restrooms. She pushed inside the door marked Lassies. The bar was hopping, but she’d caught the bathroom during a lull. Only two of four stalls were occupied and nobody was using the vanity. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Eh. If she wanted to achieve her goal, maybe a little less drowned muskrat?
She tugged off her soaked hand-knitted red poncho and plopped the soggy garment onto a gold vinyl bench alongside her—thankfully lined—sage lace purse. Yoga moves came in handy to dry her long thick mane of wavy brunette hair at one of the wall-mounted air blowers. She stepped back as a slender blonde exited stall one, washed her hands and left. Then Kate performed more pretzel maneuvers to dry her favorite floaty white organza dress with asymmetrical handkerchief hem and cheerful long-stemmed red poppies print. Paper towels did the trick on her bare calves and blotted moisture from her red high heels.
As she turned to the mirror again, a tall, elegant woman with rich deep brown skin and gorgeous dark curly hair emerged from stall two and started to wash her hands at the same time a curvy redhead swept into the room.
“Nara!” the redhead said in a throaty voice.
“Maeve! I saw you out there dancing with him. How’s it going?”
Kate shamelessly eavesdropped while reapplying her natural makeup look.
“I don’t know. He’s already danced with three other women and now he’s playing pool with his brothers.” The lush redhead smoothed her snug green silk sheath. Damn, she’d be a killer model for the fantasy mermaids Kate painted.
“Stay in it to win it.” Nara made an mmm sound like she was savoring an expensive chocolate truffle. “A night with Love-’em-and-Leave-’em-Liam is wowza. The man really knows his way around downtown. Totally unforgettable. And one night is all you’ll get, so if you do, make the most of it.”
“Fingers crossed, but nothing else.” Snickering, Maeve went into a stall and Nara left.
Kate picked up her soggy poncho between two fingers. Now dressed for success, she headed down the hallway. Huh.
This Liam dude sounded perfect for what she had in mind.
Inside the pub’s main room, she snagged the last empty stool at the very end of the bar. The devilishly cute dark-haired bartender suggested an Irish hot chocolate with a dash of whiskey to warm her insides. The promise of genuine whipped cream on top sealed the deal. Oh baby. Exactly what the doctor ordered. She requested two. After all, she wouldn’t be driving.
And an extra boost of liquid courage couldn’t hurt. Tonight, she was borrowing a strategy from a favorite girlhood fairy tale and grabbing the chance to be fun and flirty Princess Ella instead of dependable Cinderella.
Sipping her drink, she tapped her toe to the lively Celtic rock song jamming overhead and considered the possibilities.
Four tall, dark, eye-bogglingly buff men commanded the nearest pool table. Three in blue jeans and long-sleeved shirts in plum, midnight blue, and moss green respectively, were facing her, and one in black jeans and a gray shirt had his back to her. She blinked. Wowza didn’t even begin to describe them. Talk about divine DNA. Women probably lined up for blocks to cannonball into that gene pool. Didn’t matter which was L-and-L-Liam, because any of those guys? Oooo yeah. She was hopping aboard the downtown express.
The one with his back to her bent over the table. Hey there. His rear view was as spectacular as the flipside of the others.
He straightened. As if he felt her ogling him, he turned around ... and looked right at her.
Kate strangled on her own breath.
Holy St. Patrick!
Acres of hard-muscled man. Exceptionally well-fitting jeans and a pearl gray button-down rolled up on steely forearms hugged a big to-die-for body. Wavy midnight hair framed chiseled features sculpted by a Celtic goddess on one of her really happy days. Defined cheekbones complemented his well-shaped nose and strong chin. And, oh glory, his mouth! Full, sexy lips so wickedly edible, she couldn’t help licking her own.
He didn’t need to wear green. Irises as clear and brilliant as emeralds—warm, intelligent eyes—sparkled at her.
She’d stood in vast, echoing galleries of the Louvre and stared in awe at marble statues with faces less striking than his.
Over six feet of perfect male magnificence.
Her muse hummed with pleasure and her fingers clenched with the urge to snatch up a paintbrush and immortalize him. She swallowed hard.
Dear Fate, please let him be The One.
* * *
Liam O’Rourke stared at the brunette perched daintily on the bar stool like a brilliant butterfly ... and a two-by-four slammed him upside the head.
Jesus.
He liked women. Like everything about them, all shapes, coloring, and sizes. But that one?
Gobsmacked him.
Pretty oval face. Killer legs made even sexier by red high heels. Lush breasts beneath her flowered dress.
Those eyes, though.
Big and rich warm brown, fringed with long, dark lashes. Taking his measure. Astutely aware and glinting with mysterious secrets. His pulse throttled into double-time. Secrets he wanted to discover.
“Hey, Casanova,” Con said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Your shot.”
Rudely dropkicked out of Fantasy Land, Liam shook his head. He’d come here tonight to take his mind off today’s near-miss with tragedy. Hadn’t helped much—until now. “Wha—?” He swiveled to face his smart-assed brothers.
Grady smirked at him. “You gonna play, or you gonna go get some play?”
Aidan snorted. “I dunno. That one looks really smart. She might love and leave him.”
Liam gripped his cue in a suddenly sweaty hand. “The zoo called. You apes are due back by nine.” He could still feel her stare on his back as he took his turn—and missed by a friggin’ mile.
Normally, he’d stroll up to her, introduce himself, and before long they’d be at her place. Naked and rolling in the sheets. Not ego talking. Women liked him, too.
This woman, though.
Completely threw him off his game. And not just pool. Suddenly, he was an awkward, tongue-tied, pimply mathlete with a hopeless crush on the Homecoming Queen.
“You draw them in faster than a tractor beam, bro,” Grady said. “She’s coming over.”
Liam’s gut flip-flopped. Nerves? Shit. He hadn’t been nervous about the opposite sex since ... well ... ever. At the same time, he was weirdly let down. He reveled in challenges, and had yet to find a woman who resisted when he turned on the charm. Having to work for it for a change might be fun.
Even if Grady hadn’t warned him, he’d have sensed her the moment she got close. Energy crackled in the atmosphere, raising all the hairs on his body. He turned around.
Her enigmatic gaze met his. “Hi,” she said. Her slightly husky contralto made his heart stumble drunkenly. “Want to dance?”
“Uh ... yeah.” Smooth, boyo. Way to impress.
He offered his hand to lead her to the dance floor. She placed her small, soft hand in his and damn! A jolt arced through him like he’d connected the live circuits on a high density bomb.
U2’s “With or Without You” thrummed through the speakers as he drew her into his arms. She fit perfectly, her head level with his shoulder, as if she’d been made just for him. And she smelled sweeter than the fragrant flower gardens on expensive estates where he’d mowed lawns for adolescent spending money.
Say something to her, wanker.
Where the hell was his voice? “I ... ah ... um ...” There it was. Hoarse and stuttery. What the fuck? “I’m Liam O’Rourke.”
Her smile was gorgeous and genuine. A 2-g force. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kate.”
“Kate ...?”
“Just Kate. What do you do, Liam?”
“I’m a cop.”
“Yeah? Figures. You’re a walking felony.”
He grinned. “Are you feeding me a line?”
“Nah. If I was, I’d have said, ‘Will you help me find my lost kitten? It wandered into that cheap motel across the street.’”
Laughter bubbled in his chest and spilled over. “And what do you do?”
“I’m a painter. Canvases, not houses.”
“Big art fan here. Abstracts, mostly, but I like it all. What do you paint?”
“Fantasy seascapes. Mermaids and other fantastical creatures, but they include realistic sea life details. I don’t make a living at it, yet. So I also do restorations, ’cause a gal’s gotta pay for her chocolate addiction.”
“Your artwork sounds intriguing.”
“There’s something about creating that fills a void in my soul. When I’m painting, I drift into the bliss zone and the entire world—and all my problems—disappear. I can’t imagine not being able to paint. I’d rather lose a limb.” She chuckled. “As long as it wasn’t my painting hand.”
“I get it. I restore period houses and sell ’em, then buy another. Not really flipping because I take time to get them perfect. And profit’s not my motive, because yeah, the creative factor fills a void for me, too. I just started rejuvenating a big Craftsman.” He waggled his brows at her. “Maybe you’ll show me your etchings sometime, Just Kate.”
Her merry laugh lit him up inside. “Are you a gambling man?”
“Gamble’s my middle name.”
“Ah. Your mom clairvoyant?”
God, he loved that she was fluent in snark. “More like wishful thinking.” Laughing again himself, he drew her closer. “It’s actually Michael. She and Pop gave us all saintly middle names.”
The song ended and segued into something fast and loud. A couple who’d obviously imbibed the green beer a tad too freely left the bar and started flailing around on the dance floor, bumping into them from behind. “Getting dangerous out here,” he said. “Would you like another drink?”
“Yes, thanks.”
They snagged the couple’s vacated barstools in the nick of time. The bartender strode up to them. “Hey, Liam, how’s it going? I heard about your and Murphy’s close call with the Grim Reaper today.”
His fingers fisted. Gentle pressure on his forearm made him look down to see Kate’s hand there. She gave him a squeeze of support. He relaxed, rolled too-tight shoulders. “Appreciate your concern, Brogan. Could’ve been a helluva lot worse. Thank fuck it wasn’t.”
Brogan brought them both Irish hot chocolates and they sipped their drinks.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked quietly.
“Yeah. Murphy, my partner, is in the hospital, though. He took a bullet for me today.”
“How awful.” Empathy warmed her sweet face. “I’m so sorry.”
“Doc said he’ll be all right. Kicked me out after Murph came out of surgery. He’s sedated. My brothers convinced me to meet them here for a pleasant distraction.” He gave into the temptation to stroke a fingertip down her satiny cheek, delighting in her rapid inhale. “It’s working.”
She gave him that angel’s smile. “Glad to be of assistance.”
They talked and laughed, lingering over several more drinks, discovering all the things they shared in common. Kate captivated him with her vast range of knowledge, keen intelligence, and droll rapier wit.
As the night wove a magic spell, he invited her for another slow dance. Then another. With every step, every sensual graze of their bodies, heat built. The air sizzled. An odd, unspoken connection he’d never felt before grew stronger with each passing moment.
Maybe he’d finally found a woman he didn’t want to let go?
At least not right away. He’d certainly found a woman he wanted to know better. Not just physically, but on every level. A woman he didn’t want to rush into bed with, then rush out the door.
That’s new.
As the final song ended, he pulled back. “It’s late. Can I walk you to your car?” He’d get her number. Ask her out on another date. See where their intriguing connection led.
“The car I was using is out of commission. I’m Ubering it.”
“In that case, can I offer you a ride home?”
“Very gallant. Sure, thanks.”
When he discovered her sweater cape thing was still wringing wet, he draped his charcoal suede jacket over her shoulders. The voluptuous redhead he’d danced with earlier sent death glares at Kate as they headed out into the downpour. If Kate noticed, she didn’t seem to care.
He insisted she wait under the covered entryway until he pulled up in his white vintage Mustang. As she splashed through the deluge, he was already out with the door open. “My white charger is at your service, milady.”
Smiling, she slid inside. He got into the driver’s seat and she brushed clinging raindrops off his wet shirt sleeve. “You should’ve stayed in here where it’s dry.”
He steered into the nearly deserted street. “As Gram always said, ‘I’m not sugar or salt nor anybody’s honey, I won’t melt.’”
She studied the immaculate burgundy leather interior. “Fabulous ride.”
He grinned. “’66 Mustang GT convertible. This pony has the famous ‘K-code’ four-barrel 289, pumping out a lusty 271 horsepower—” He caught her bemused expression. “TMI?”
“No, but I don’t speak hotrod. I fill a car with gas and drive it. You obviously adore yours.”
“Pop towed what started out as a hunk of junk home on my fourteenth birthday. Over the years, we rebuilt every inch. Once, when we worked late into the night, he confided a crazy—” Disconcerted, he shut his mouth. “TMI again. Anyway, the pony holds a lot of memories.”
“You sound wistful. Your dad is ... gone?”
Perceptive lady, too. “He died a year after we finished the car.” A shadow of grief flickered over him, but he kept his tone jaunty. “You have family nearby?”
“Yes. But we’re not close.”
She didn’t elaborate, and her tone told him to nix that subject. “What area of town are we headed for here?” he asked.
“Liam—” She hesitated.
He stopped for a red light, then glanced at her. An internal debate appeared to be happening. Huh. Maybe she also wanted to explore possibilities? He covered her hand where it rested on the console. “Have dinner with me Saturday night.”
She blinked. “Um ...”
The light flashed green, and he hit the gas, glanced over again. “Would you be more comfortable with lunch?”
“Liam ... take me home.”
“Too much, too fast? How about a coffee?” His fingers gently squeezed hers. “Hell, I’ll settle for a hot dog from a food cart.”
She laughed. “I meant take me to your home. I’d like to see your creative vision.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Liam ushered Kate inside the dilapidated two-story Craftsman, the door creaking loudly as he opened it. He switched on the lights. “Obviously, the jamb is out of level.”
She chuckled. “Your own early warning system if anyone comes in or goes out.”
“Yep.” He didn’t bring women to his houses. Never talked about his passion for restoration, never exposed details of his personal life. No strings, no connections, no expectations of any relationship.
Yet ... here he was. With Kate.
That disconcerting energy radiated from where his palm rested on the small of her back, messing with his equilibrium. He wasn’t about to assume anything though. Maybe she did just want to check out his house.
He removed his coat from around her shoulders and hung it on the rack alongside her damp wrap. “I can’t wait to see this grand old duchess restored to her former glory.”
“Do you do a lot of research in order to get the period details right?”
“Yeah. It’s one of the most enjoyable aspects. I save as much of the houses’ original character as possible, while updating for energy-efficiency and modern conveniences.”
“I take photos of the ocean and sea critters as references for my paintings. I even scuba dive for underwater photos.”
“Man, I love diving. Grady, my younger brother, is a thrill-a-minute guy and he and I are dive buddies.”
Sadness sobered her expressive face. “Must be really fun to have a brother who shares your interests.”
“Grady’s fun all right, and fearless. Baby bro gives ‘disorderly conduct’ a whole new meaning.”
She laughed, banishing the melancholy moment, and making him feel ten feet tall. O-kay.
Her attention focused on the ramshackle living room as she set her purse on a sawhorse. “What you do is very similar to restoring paintings. There’s nothing more fulfilling than bringing something that’s been neglected back to life. Well, except for creating your own original masterpiece.”
He pushed aside a wheeled tool cart partially blocking a doorway. “I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour.”
She glanced at the hardhat on top that bore the Habitat for Humanity logo. “You volunteer for Habitat for Humanity? You don’t get enough construction at home?”
He winked at her. “Don’t ya know, Just Kate,” he drawled in a lilting Irish brogue, “that idle hands are the devil’s tools?”
“I’m sure your hands are always engaged in one activity or another, Lucky Charmer.”
He sent her a wicked grin. “Busy hands are happy hands, sweetheart.”
Her generous mouth quirked. “Aye,” she perfectly mimicked his accent. “That they are. And I like nothing better than having happy hands.”
And hoo boy, the room overheated. He cleared his throat. “About that tour ... follow me.”
Kate followed him into the dining room. She glanced around. “Perfect home to raise a family. Good solid bones, lots of space.”
Not going there. “It’ll be a better party house.” He flicked a switch. “I’ve already wired in surround sound.”
Phil Collins’s evocative voice floated out and she grinned approval. “I love Phil. He’s the modern equivalent of a medieval balladeer. All his songs tell a story.”
“You’ve quite the poetic soul.”
“Yet another trait we share in common,” she replied.
He struggled to focus on the remodel as he conducted the tour. He asked her advice about the unfinished spaces, unsurprised by her exceptional sense of style and color. The interior was all clean lines, rich oak built-ins, and soon-to-be warm, cozy hues. The house smelled pleasantly of sanded wood and fresh paint.
Kate was all graceful curves, sweet smiles, and captivating glances. She smelled erotically of summer flowers and warm woman.
He led her into the kitchen. “After the downstairs bathrooms were done, I started in here.”
Leaning against the white and gray granite countertop, she looked around. “When do you expect to finish?”
His eyes caught and held hers. “I like to take my time on every project. Lavish thorough, complete attention on each step before moving to the next.”
Her focus riveted on him. “A detail man.”
Every muscle in his body tightened, while in the background, Phil’s mellow voice started wishing for rain.
“Take these cabinets.” He shifted until he stood mere inches in front of her. One hand reached to lovingly caress a cabinet door beside her head and he imagined his fingers caressing her. “I’ll sand ’em until the pores grow warm and open, in order to easily accept the stain. Then carefully rub in the tint, layer by layer, until they glow.”
Mesmerized, she watched his hand. Her breasts rose and fell as she swallowed, and lust fired deep in his belly. “You ... ah ... you’re dedicated to your work.”
“It’s not work if you enjoy it, right?” Awareness thrummed between them. “Sometimes I forget to eat, forget everything but the satisfaction of creating.”
Her gaze stayed on his, gold embers burning in those fascinating brown pools. “You do sound like an artist.”
“I consider art an unflinching expression of true self, no matter the medium.” He smiled. “Isn’t art anything that arouses an emotional response, both in the creator and the observer? Anything that pulls both inside the experience and makes them participants?”
They stood there, locked on each other like heat-seeking missiles.
The heat undulated, spread, enveloped them. Kate swallowed again. “There’s a room you haven’t shown me that I’d like very much to see.” She leaned into him until their bodies touched. “Your bedroom.”
He inhaled sharply. Then surprised the shit out of himself by stepping back. “Kate ...” With this woman, he wanted more than a quick bang. “I’m trying like hell to be a gentleman with you.”
She moved closer. “Well, stop it.”
“This is different from anything— You’re different—”
“Oh.” She abruptly turned away. “Sorry. I thought ...”
He turned her to face him, lifted her chin so they were again looking at each other. “I damn well want you. And after being held against me all night you have to know exactly how much. But I don’t want to cross any wires and blow this up.”
Her taut features relaxed. “You want me. I want you.” She rested her hand on his forearm, where his muscles vibrated like live power lines. “Seems very simple.”
He uttered a shaky laugh. “Maybe I don’t want you to think I’m easy.”
“No worries, Lucky Charmer.” She trailed her fingers up his arm to his shoulder, brushing her stomach against his more-than-obvious full salute. “I think you’re exquisitely hard.”
“Damn,” he whispered. “You wreck me.” Then he captured her mouth. Her lips, so warm and lush, tasted of dark chocolate, heady whiskey, and hot, aroused woman. He dove in and devoured her. He couldn’t get enough of Kate.
Panting, she broke free to gasp in air. “I have condoms in my purse. Left it in the living room.”
“Don’t have to go all the way in there.” He sounded just as breathless. “I have a couple in my wallet.”
“Thank St. Patrick!”
Laughing, he again sought her mouth. He glided his tongue inside the sweet depths, kissing her as desperately as if it was his last night on earth and he was gonna live to the utmost before he left.
She gave back generously, her clever mouth and questing hands quickly rocketing him to the edge. He couldn’t stop touching her, she couldn’t stop touching him.
Kate kicked off her heels, he yanked off his sneakers and socks, barefoot in an instant. She fumbled with his shirt. Mouths fused in an endless, scalding kiss, he reached to help, finally just ripping it open. Buttons skittered across the linoleum, then his shirt dropped. He grasped the hem of her dress and tugged it up and over her head. It followed his shirt to the floor.
He looked at her and the world tilted on its axis. Sweet Sculpted Venus. The only thing she was wearing was a tiny pair of red lace panties. Amazingly beautiful, her creamy skin, long shapely legs, and lush breasts tipped with rosy nipples, his to fully enjoy.
He ran his hands over her. All over her, while she quivered eagerly beneath his touch. Her body was amazingly soft and delicate, but with sleek, strong muscles beneath. He unzipped his fly, shoved down his jeans and boxer briefs together and yanked them off. He barely remembered to snag his wallet, extract a condom and roll it on, the process made a whole lot harder—ha—by Kate rubbing against him like a cat. As his chest grazed her nipples, her knees wobbled and she moaned. “More!”
“Kate,” he groaned. He lifted her onto the counter, stepped between her thighs. He rocked his hips into her, and her head fell back. He nibbled her ears and throat, discovering to his delight that it both tickled her and turned her on. Palms at her back holding her steady, he bent and swirled his tongue over a pebbled nipple, then sucked hard, smiling when she jolted, then arched into his mouth. Her breath sawed in and out in ragged gasps. Or maybe that was his own.
Every nerve ending was hyper-sensitized, blood pounding hot and hard in his ears. Kate’s heartbeat thrashed in her chest at a frenzied pace beneath his mouth as he switched back and forth, devoting thorough attention to each breast.
“Liam.” She was trembling in his embrace. “Please!”
He lifted her, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and tore them in half. He set her bare bottom on the cool, smooth granite countertop. Her skin scorched his, her heady female scent flooded his senses, more intoxicating than Irish hot chocolate.
As his mouth devoured hers, her arms around his neck pulled him as close as he could get without being inside her. “Now,” she gasped into his mouth.
He jerked free. “Wait.” Panting, he stepped back. Rested his forehead against hers. “Not here. Not like this.”
“Here is great. Now is great.”
“I want you in my bed.” He scooped her up. She wound her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. To the erotic beat of drums and the echoing strains of “In the Air Tonight,” he carried her upstairs. Every step caused the carnal glide of her hot, slick center up and down his erection, making him shake. Making him battle the temptation to take her right there against the wall.
“You can have me wherever you want me.” She writhed against him. “Just hurry! I’ve waited long enough.”
He’d never been this hot, this desperate. Never needed like he needed her. He chuckled unsteadily. “Keep that up, and I’ll forget how to walk.” As his chuckle vibrated through him and into her, she moaned.
She rained kisses down his throat. “As long as you don’t forget how to do anything else.”
He turned into his bedroom. Laid her on the bed. Light from the hallway gilded the passion-taut lines of her face as he looked at her, drinking in the beautiful sight. “God, you’re perfect.”
She smiled and a shiver ran over her as she bent her right knee and slanted it to the side in invitation.
A rainbow-colored butterfly tattoo took flight low on her stomach, beside the enticing inner curve of her hipbone. And he was gonna kiss it, kiss her everywhere.
The second time around.
He followed her down, holding most of his weight off her with his forearms. A surge of possessiveness caught him by surprise when she brought her other knee up and eagerly opened all the way for him. He suddenly couldn’t remember how to breathe.
Holding her gaze, he thrust in to the hilt.
Damn, she was tight. Unbelievably tight.
She stiffened and cried out, but not in pleasure. Her eyelids slammed shut, and Liam froze.
Sonofabitch!
Cold horror sent tremors down his spine. “Kate?”
She was shaking from head to toe. “I’m ... all right,” she choked out.
“Kate, look at me.”
Her lids slid up, her expression bewildered.
Appalled, he cupped her face. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin? Shit. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’m all right,” she repeated.
“The hell you are.”
“I am. Really. You’re ... just ... larger than I expected. I only need ... a minute ... to adjust.”
“If you can relax that’ll help. I’m gonna pull out. Real slow.”
Her arms and legs wrapped around him, drawing him deeper inside her. “No! Don’t!”
“Babe ...”
“Please. Give me a chance to find out how good it can be.”
He gritted his teeth. How could he deny Kate pleasure after he’d caused her pain? He only hoped at this point he could make it good for her. “Okay. But I need you to try to relax, all right? Breathe with me.”
He guided her through a repeated series of counted inhalations and exhalations, relieved for her sake when the constricting pressure where he was sheathed inside her eased. “Better?”
“Much better.”
“Sure you don’t want me to pull out? We can stop, right now. I don’t want you to go through with this only because you think we’ve gone too far for you to say anything.”
She gave him a sweet smile that broke his heart. “I’ve never been a quitter.”
“Hellfire, Kate.” He kissed her. “Tell me if it hurts you. We can stop any time. Promise you’ll tell me, or I will end this right now.”
“I promise. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How will I ... uh ... How will I know if I have an orgasm?”
He fought a brief battle with a smile and lost. “Trust me, you’ll know.”
Earnest intensity edged her fine features. “I do. Trust you.”
And didn’t that responsibility scare the ever-loving shit outta him?
Holding completely still, he kissed her, making love to her mouth for an eternity. As she relaxed even more, he kissed lower, licked and nibbled her ears and throat, thrilled to hear her laughter and feel her wriggling.
When she started to make little humming sounds, he supported his weight on his left arm and used his right hand to gently knead her breasts and tease her nipples. Then bent his head to arouse her with his mouth. Before long, her spine arched and her hips restlessly shifted upward ... his cue to slowly, carefully, halfway withdraw, then slide in again.
Her eyes flew open, met his in surprised wonder. “Oh!”
“Okay, sweetheart?” He made another slow, shallow glide.
“Yes. That’s ... ohhhh ... lovely. Keep doing that.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
She quickly caught the rhythm, rising to meet him on each down stroke, her body urging him faster, deeper. Ruthlessly leashing his own intensifying need, staying gentle, he followed her lead and gave her exactly what she wanted.
Her lids drifted halfway down and she watched him from beneath her lashes, that unique link vibrating between them. She started to shake again, body bowing, her inner muscles contracting. And then she was panting and moaning and coming ... and kept coming.
He gritted his teeth and held back his climax, drawing out her pleasure. Kate coming completely undone for him was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
As her orgasm subsided, she continued undulating against him, aftershocks rippling inside her, around him—pushing him to the edge. He kept stroking, slow and gentle. Her throaty little hums started up again, stealing his breath and making him grin. That’s quite a tell, sweetheart.
He angled his hips to give her more direct contact and increased his pace, and damn if she didn’t come again, longer, harder. This time, she cried out his name.
He let go and fell with her.
Into perfect, unequalled bliss.
Sometime later, he lifted his head to see her watching him almost ... warily? He kissed the tip of her nose. “So? Did you figure it out?”
She smiled, but it was strained around the edges. “Yeah. Twice.”
He sobered. “We need to talk about what happened here.”
“If you don’t know, then you did an amazing job of winging it.”
“Not what I meant and you know it. Something’s going on with you.”
White teeth worried her lower lip. “I’d like to ...um ... shower first.”
“Sure. You like Chinese food?” At her nod, he continued. “I’ll order in, then we can eat and talk. You’ll have to use the first floor bath, the shower up here isn’t connected yet. And if you want to borrow my robe, feel free. It’s hanging on the back of the door down there.”
Measured and careful, he withdrew and rolled to the side. As she gingerly eased off the bed, he sat up. She had to be sore. “Let me help you downstairs.”
All of a sudden she didn’t want to meet his gaze. “No need. I’m good. Fantastic, in fact.” She stood on tiptoe and her lips touched his cheek in a tender kiss. “Thank you, Liam. For every wonderful thing.”
Fighting every instinct to care for and protect her, he let her keep her pride and go downstairs alone.
Liam went into his ensuite bathroom and adiosed the condom, listening as the pipes rattled when the water kicked on downstairs. He returned to pull on a pair of clean jeans, not bothering with briefs. He called Ah Fong Palace and ordered enough food for four people, forgetting Murph wasn’t around to share the loot.
Then he dropped to the edge of the bed and lowered his head into his hands.
Jesus.
Kate had been more than ready for him, but if he’d known, he’d have taken far more time with her. Would’ve extended foreplay, been much more gentle with his initial entry.
He scrubbed his palms over his face. Who the fuck was he blowing a smoke screen for? If he’d known she was a virgin, he’d never have touched her. That expectation of intimate trust would’ve sent him hurtling into a tactical retreat.
Confusion morphed into uneasiness. Except ... maybe not?
He hadn’t been able to resist Kate. The instant he’d spotted her in the bar, he’d been drawn to her. Every defense he’d deployed tonight was useless against the laws of physics.
An irresistible force pulling in an immovable object.
He scrubbed a shaky hand over his jaw. Maybe Pop had been right.
Pop had made a fantastical claim one night when they were working on the Mustang together. He’d said every O’Rourke male inherited the ability to know his soul-mate the instant he saw her.
O’Rourke men fell in love with one glance.
Out of four sons, Pop told only him. Liam hadn’t quite believed the wild story, but never forgot it. As a bomb tech, he knew appearances were deceptive.
What you couldn’t see got you killed.
Was Kate The One?
A gust of wind rattled the house, and he snapped upright. How long had he sat there while the shower ran on and on? He shoved to his feet, sprinted downstairs. “Kate?” He knocked on the bathroom door. “You all right?”
No response.
“Kate!” He pounded. “Answer me!”
Dead silence.
“Kate!” His gut twisted as he shook the locked doorknob. Had she passed out? “Open the door, dammit!”
Fuck this. He kicked it in.
Icy wind blasted through the now open window, blowing aside the curtains. The room was empty. Nothing indicated Kate had ever been there ... except her torn panties in the trash can.
