Silence. It was empty.
I ran to the terrace and unlocked the door just as Sean threw his leg over the railing.
“Hey.” The word floated on a pant. I was out of breath.
He swung his other leg over, and I fisted the material of his lapels, urging him to get out of sight and inside in case Atlas had his suspicions and looked outside.
“Thanks,” he said as I locked up.
I lifted the strap over my shoulder to remove my bag and dug inside to listen in to Bridgette’s room.
“I wasn’t expecting you. What a nice surprise. I thought you were swamped with meetings in London for the rest of the weekend,” Bridgette said in English. Perhaps Atlas didn’t know German. Or maybe she didn’t know French or Greek.
French and Greek. Freek. And now I was thinking of Chanel. And why wouldn’t I be? Her brother was in the room next to me.
“I had a meeting get canceled at the last minute and decided to sneak over since your husband wasn’t going to be here tonight,” Atlas told Bridgette.
“Guess they are having an affair.” Sean motioned for us to get the hell out of there, but I halted at the sight of a travel bag on the floor by the couch in the living room. Attached to the zipper was a large metal charm of a perfume bottle. Chanel No. 5.
“We’re in Atlas’s room,” I whispered to Sean.
And Atlas . . . he’s sentimental? I didn’t know what to think about that.
I reached into my bag and grabbed the second listening and tracking device, which was like a small black sticker the size of a coin. This night turned out to be a hell of a lot better than I’d anticipated, minus Sean potentially falling to his death on the ledge.
Sean took hold of my arm a moment later, urging me to move after I planted the device inside his bag. “They’re coming. We have to go.” He pointed with his free hand toward a connecting door, which led to Bridgette’s suite, joining the two rooms together. A quick beep sounded, alerting us to the fact they’d unlocked the door.
Unable to make our escape, Sean pulled me into a nearby closet in one swift movement.
He carefully clicked the door shut and lowered my bag to the floor.
The space was tight and cramped, and our bodies were pinned together.
“Mm. I missed you.” Atlas’s words were followed by sounds of kissing. “I need you now.”
I was going to be sick. Between too much champagne, seeing a naked Bridgette kissing Sean, and now this, heaven help me, I’d need to wash these memories from my mind with Clorox.
Sean wrapped his hand around my waist as my palms skated up his chest with no room for my elbows. We were trapped until they finished screwing.
Why couldn’t they have stayed in her room, damn it?
“I need you in my mouth,” Bridgette said, her voice raspy. There was a thud, maybe her falling to her knees. This was not how I’d planned to spend my evening. Listening to Bridgette suck off the most powerful Alliance leader.
After my gaze had adjusted to the dark, I lifted my chin to see Sean peering down at me. The adrenaline, the close call of nearly being caught, and the sexual energy between us . . . it had me out of sorts. Confused. A little light-headed.
And despite the sounds of sex not far away, I found myself remembering Sean’s words to Bridgette back in her room.
Everything. I’m everything?
“Bedroom,” Atlas commanded.
Relief soared through me at the sound of a door shutting. Sean nodded, letting me know we ought to take the chance and make a run for it.
I slowly opened the closet, stole a look toward the bedroom to see the door was shut, then we crept out of the suite.
“Holy shite,” Sean said while blowing out a breath once we were safely away and in the lift, heading for our room. “Dress malfunction?”
I shrugged. “My dress was slowing me down.”
His lips went from a smirk to a frown in one quick blink of an eye. “About Bridgette’s dress . . . she unzipped it, not me. I wouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even want to kiss her. And with you watching—”
“You don’t need to explain.” I flicked my wrist as the lift doors parted. “Made for great photos.”
“I know I don’t need to explain.” His voice chased after me once I’d quickly fled the cramped space of the lift. “Emilia, would you stop walking away from me?”
His plea had me walking faster, and I flung the door open, but Sean was on my heels, and his presence loomed large, stealing my breath before I’d yet to confront him.
When the door clicked shut, I swung around to face him, the bag still hanging from my shoulder and nearly hitting him in the process.
“That’s what I do, Sean. I see a problem, I fix it, and then I walk away.” I let go of the bag and set my hands to my hips. “Tonight was a close call,” I deflected. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten drunk earlier or started talking about my father and Penelope. It isn’t like me to be so irresponsible.” I tensed, my body on fire. My thoughts wild and chaotic. “But we got way more than we bargained for tonight. Now we have evidence of the affair from the listening device, photos of you with her, and now maybe we can even move up our timetable. Adjust the Monaco plans.”
“New Year’s Eve. Your birthday.” He squinted as if the sun was in his eyes.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore.”
He stepped around the bag, whittling the space between us to almost nothing. “Maybe you ought to.”
“I don’t want to,” I said, fighting like hell to inject a touch of stubborn sass into my tone to keep from letting my emotions loose.
I worked the blonde wig and pins free from my hair, unleashing my black locks.
Sean’s focus followed the wig to the floor as I tossed it on top of the bobby pins.
“I thought we might . . .”
“Have sex?” I finished for him, breathy and confused. Not a feeling I liked. “I admit, I was ready to go. I had it all mapped out in my head. And you—” I dropped my words as he had me stumbling back to the wall, his strong body framing mine.
“What changed?” he asked, hooded eyes searching my face for answers while he leaned in and set a hand to the wall over my shoulder.
He was so close I felt his hard cock desperate to plunge inside me.
I squeezed my eyes tight, unable to look at him and turn him down. “You weren’t acting with Bridgette.”
“Of course I was, what are you talking about?” he hissed, and I felt his absence. I didn’t have to look to know he’d backed away as if I’d slapped him.
“When you told her I was everything. You weren’t acting.” My voice was shaky. My words trembling like the aftershocks from a quake still felt hundreds of kilometers away. “I want to be with you,” I confessed, my voice sounding like a strangled cry. “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything so much.”
His expression hardened. He clamped down on his teeth as if restraining himself from tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me straight to bed.
“But—”
“I think Adam has the right idea about that word. It should be off-feckin’-limits.” He grabbed hold of me and gathered me into his arms before I could protest.
My elbows were bent, my hands trapped between our bodies while he held me. And strangely, this feeling of being cocooned in his embrace was comforting. Like being swaddled in love, something I’d lacked growing up without a mother.
“We can’t be together aside from sex. Okay?” I needed to hear him confirm it before this moved forward. Before I gave him a piece of myself that I knew I’d never be able to take back.
A line cut across his forehead, but he nodded. “We can’t be together.”
“We can’t be together,” I repeated, surprised when my eyes became damp and my vision blurry.
“I hear you, Emilia.” He set his forehead to mine, and I freed my arms to encircle his hips. “But for tonight, we can.”
Chapter Ten
Emili
a
I can’t. That was the brilliant response I’d muttered before ripping myself out of Sean’s embrace, racing into the second bedroom of the suite, and slamming the door shut a minute ago.
The dress was too tight. I couldn’t breathe. I did my best to finish the job I’d started earlier and desperately tore at the fabric. My hands trembled as I fumbled to get it off, my thoughts mangled and unclear. It wasn’t until my fingers touched the small metal pull that I remembered the hidden side zipper. When I finally yanked myself free, a huge whoosh of air left my lungs.
No longer constricted by the dress, I took several deep, calming breaths, the effects of which were ruined when I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
My hair and my flushed cheeks had the post-sex look without the benefit of an orgasm, and I shoved the wispy strands away from my face and willed away the color from my cheeks.
Shoulders back, I heard my nanny’s voice, my pseudo-mother, repeating what she said to me every day from age five to six whenever I let them slump. I unhooked my bra, tossed it back, and let my shoulders dramatically droop.
“Screw you,” I whispered under my breath. Screw her and that sharp fingernail she jabbed in my back when I wanted to be a normal kid for five minutes.
I traced my finger over the faint line near my breast. Another bad memory in a sea of dozens and dozens.
Sean felt like the life raft meant to save me.
And I was the stubborn woman too afraid to jump to safety. To take a chance that it’d be better on the other side. Somehow. Someway. It was supposed to be, right?
But the grass was never greener.
The grass was always fucking dead.
“Emilia, you okay?” Sean’s voice floated through the door, the longing he had for me still kicking around in his tone.
My eyes fell shut, and the only thing I could see was his mouth claiming Bridgette’s. Another ridiculous stir of jealousy had my palms landing on the dresser, my head bowing. “I’m . . .”
What am I? Oh, I was lots of things right now, but fine wasn’t one of them. That was for sure.
Sean had agreed to my terms, accepted that the only thing I could offer was sex. And then I freaked out. Decided the price of us being together was still too high, too dangerous, and I walked away.
What the hell, Emilia? This time, it wasn’t clear whose voice was in my head, mine, the nanny’s, or Chanel’s.
“May I come in?” he asked softly, interrupting my mental break from reality.
“There’s nothing to say.” Damn the crack in my voice.
“I disagree. Let me in,” he responded, his words like a calloused palm dragging over my skin, designed to hurt me where it would the most—my heart.
If I let him in, I knew what was sure to happen. There’d be nowhere left to run but into his arms.
“I’m naked. One second.” Apparently, my body had taken over, opting to ignore the precautions of my mind to wave a white flag because the words came tumbling out on their own accord.
I unstrapped my heels and retrieved a fuzzy white cotton robe from the closet. After securing the belt around my waist, I steadied my breath and swung open the door before I changed my mind.
He was leaning against the wall, one hand on the doorframe and the other hand in the pocket of his black sweats. No shirt or shoes. He’d changed, same as me. The lines of his chest were as hard as the tight draw of his mouth as he studied me.
His gaze lingered on the robe before sliding up. “Now that we’re both more comfortable, maybe we can start over?” Those vivid blue eyes were a window to all that was the beauty of Ireland, and they were my weakness. Sean knew how to weaponize them. Dismantle my defenses. Conquer me.
And was it wrong I wanted him to do exactly that? For it to be my lips that he kissed and my body that he pulled tight to his, not Bridgette’s? The memory of their brief moment together was torturing my thoughts, and I was desperate to erase it.
I angrily slapped a hand to my chest, attempting to claw at the pain building there. “It hurts. Like a heart attack.” Whenever I think of you not being in my life. That’s what I needed to say, but I chickened out and chose a half-truth instead, murmuring, “Thinking of you and Bridgette . . .” I whirled away, but he tightened a hand around my wrist and abruptly spun me back and into his arms.
“That’s the pain I feel knowing you’re right here in front of me, and I can’t have you,” he rasped, clutching my arms, willing me with his touch and commanding blue eyes not to run again. To be with him. “A deep, throbbing feckin’ pain,” he added, his Irish accent growing thicker with each word. That familiar blend of arousal and anger I now knew well coloring his words. When he spoke like this, it was as though he were reaching out and transferring his emotions inside me, willing our souls together. I felt every nuance of what he was feeling.
And it hurt.
Why did it have to hurt so much?
Slowly, my hands went to his abdomen and up over the hard ridges of his chest. His heart was thrashing wildly beneath my palm, and yet, he stood steady before me. A dominating force that appeared capable of weathering any storm. Unflappable. Powerful and focused. Determined to have his way, and his way was to be with me.
And I wanted that power and that force to wrap me up tight because I was tired. So, so tired of being strong every second of every day. Of pinning my shoulders back every moment when sometimes I just wanted to let them fall, if only for an hour.
“I’m scared of you,” I whispered, hating the wobble in my lower lip that I think he noticed because his gaze cut straight to my mouth. His brows slanted, and he brought both palms to my face.
“Then let me show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.” His rough tone skated over my skin and had me shivering.
“I can’t do more,” I protested, my tone weak and not all that convincing, not even to me. I can’t jump.
With his hands still caressing my face, Sean brushed his thumbs over my cheeks as he brought his lips closer to mine.
“Can’t you just be the Irish guy with swagger and charm? A playboy? Why do you have to be so much more?” Could he feel the tremble in my body as he held me? Did he see the battle in my eyes I was fighting?
His jaw clenched, a hint of restraint there. “Tonight, I’ll be whoever you need me to be.” He slanted his mouth over mine, and this time, my knees did buckle.
I felt weightless, completely lost to our kiss. The endless worrying of my mind stilled. But I quickly pushed away from his chest and set a hand to mine, trying to recover the breath he stole from my lungs with that kiss.
Sean was breathing hard. Quick twitches of his abdominal wall. He dragged his thumb along the bottom of his lip as if trying to taste me again. Or sear the memory there forever.
His kiss was imprinted. On my lips. My body. In my mind.
“Emilia.” My name rolled from his tongue, but the command was clear, Don’t run.
Determined to meet his silent order, I wet my lips and brought my fingers to the knot of my robe, unfastening it and never breaking eye contact. And he didn’t look away either. Didn’t follow the slow movements of my hands. His eyes remained on mine. Bold. Beautiful. Making a statement.
With the belt free, I hooked my fingers beneath the lapels of the robe and slowly peeled the thick fabric back, letting it fall and pool at my feet.
“I’m not running.” Not tonight, at least. I lifted my chin like a warrior who knew she’d be leaving the battlefield on top of her shield instead of walking behind it.
Wearing only my lacy thong, I stepped around the robe, flung my arms over his shoulders, and linked my wrists behind his neck, bringing his lips back to mine.
His warm palms gripped my waist as we kissed again with more fervor and intensity than before. That achy throb in my chest slid down and settled between my legs as heat bloomed throughout my body.
I kissed him like it was my first time. Like it was my last.
Like the sky w
as falling, and there was only this moment left.
And just as in Cinderella, when the world reset at the stroke of midnight, we were also short on time.
His tongue matched mine stroke for stroke, and when his hand slid between my thighs and cupped my sex atop the panties, a soft moan of surrender left my mouth—a yearning for more.
“You’re soaking these things. I ought to take them off,” he said into my ear, his warm breath feathering lightly over my skin.
My nipples felt amazing pressed to his muscular chest, the sensations of skin-on-skin contact with him driving me wild. So wild I barely recognized he was ridding me of the thong.
Setting my hands to his hips, I trailed my fingertips just beneath the waistband of his sweats, happy to feel he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I shoved them down, and he took over, freeing his legs completely and kicking the sweats away, giving me a mouthwatering view. His cock was hard. Thick and veiny with precum glistening the tip.
I licked my lips, envisioning taking him between my lips, but he crooked a finger beneath my chin, stealing my focus back to his lust-darkened eyes.
“Tonight is about you. I need . . .” The movement in his throat was a signal he was working through his emotions, same as me.
This wasn’t the playboy I’d requested, the one who’d leave before the sun came up. But was he ever that man? Even in Vegas, he’d admitted he’d want my name and number before parting ways.
I couldn’t think about that now. Instead of getting lost inside my head, I needed to get lost in his body. Be in the moment without fear of tomorrow. Or the consequences.
I set a finger to his lips and shook my head.
Sex with no strings. No amore.
But hell, if I wasn’t a ball of yarn all tangled up right now.
“You drive me crazy, woman,” he seethed in a sexy growl before retaking my mouth. He gently fisted my hair, urging my chin up in the process, taking command of the situation.
And it felt good to give him the control.
Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the mirror. His chest to my back, one hand cupping my wet sex and the other teasing my nipple between his fingers. His eyes captured mine in the reflection. “This is about sex. Just two people getting off.” Sean’s voice was flat. He was working to disguise his emotions, to hide the lie. “But I need you to look at us. See how beautiful you are as you clench around my fingers when you come,” he said just as his thick finger pushed inside, drawing a gasp from me. “Keep your eyes open. Watch,” he ordered before I had a chance to close them.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 14
