The Problem with Paddy (Shrew & Company)

by Holley Trent

  Was there something wrong with her? Was she switched off? Or had she just not found the man who could do it for her?

  Well, he could test at least one of those theories. First things first, though.

  He crawled on the bed and situated himself between her open legs, putting a hand under both thighs. “We can talk positions later.”

  “If that’s what we’re going to be doing later, what’s happening right now?”

  “Taste test. I like to sample everything before I commit to buying.”

  She smoothed her face to a blank. “Who said anything about committing?”

  Okay, maybe it was the wrong choice of words, but there was something there, right? Not only was this woman damned sexy, but there was an undercurrent of attraction there that had nothing to do with her considerable good looks. Or maybe it was the pheromones, because fuck she smelled good.

  Nah, this wasn’t about glands and chemistry. He was as aroused by what was between her ears as he was with anything on her body. That snap and wit? He could verbally parry with her all evening and she’d probably keep up just fine.

  He slipped two fingers into her cunt and tested her for size. Yeah, he’d have to be careful. “You’ll commit,” he said, watching her pull that plump bottom lip between her teeth as he massaged inside of her wet sex. He turned his hand over. Let’s see if this does it for her.

  Her knees pounded against his sides and he laughed.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Patrick.”

  “Planning ahead is what makes me a good businessman, sweetheart.” He flattened his body against the bed and wrapped her legs over his shoulders. “Just think about it. You’d get me as a boyfriend.”

  She rolled her eyes, but it was evident her heart wasn’t in it. “A dirty cat.”

  “Cats are self-cleaning. And sometimes, they get a little…” He dipped his face low and licked her from slit to clit.

  She squirmed.

  “…over-enthusiastic.”

  Her fingers kneaded his hair in the back and she gave a pull that needed no captioning. More, she was saying. Or else, Stop talking.

  Gladly.

  He laved at her folds. Licking, nibbling, sucking, until he was certain there was no hair left at the back of his head. With every iota of pleasure he gave her, she gave him a heap of pain. It made him a bit afraid of what she’d do if he gave her an actual orgasm.

  Carefully, he unthreaded her fingers from his crown and crawled up so his knees staddled her breasts, holding his cock at the base and looking at her expectantly.

  The look of annoyance on her face, probably that he’d abandoned his job prematurely, shifted to one of understanding. “Oh.” She patted the bed around her and finally found the condom packet. It’d become wedged under her body while he teased her down below.

  She opened it, tossed the foil, and expertly rolled it onto him.

  Now, what position? She’d said she didn’t care one way or the other, but he wanted to show her sex was meant to look forward to. There should have always been an element of surprise—her partner should always have something up his sleeve.

  But, maybe next time. This time, he wanted to keep it simple, his gaze locked on hers, her comfort his primary concern.

  He eased back into the V of her legs and hooked her ankles together at his back.

  She watched him, expression that unreadable blank once more, as he gathered pillows and propped them under her rear, just enough to improve the angle. Just enough for him to see the wetness he’d aided and the slight clenching of her sex as he looked down at it.

  “It’s not exactly a work of art, Patrick. You don’t need to stare.”

  “I love your body. Of course I’m going to stare.” He angled himself over her, nestling his arms beneath the pillow holding her head, and fixed his gaze on hers. His cock probed at her entrance and she moved her hips to meet it, but he wasn’t ready. “Any man who doesn’t look—doesn’t stare—isn’t worthy of taking the prize.”

  “You think that makes you worthy?”

  With a slight tilt of his hips, his head was in her, and her hungry cunt tried to take more of him in. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “No. What makes me worthy is that I give a shit.” He eased in further, pausing to let her body adjust to his size, for her to relax and let in more of his length.

  Her lips parted and she exhaled a little moan, raising her chin and exposing more of her neck.

  He leaned in and kissed it, holding his cock very still inside her while he grazed his lips over her throat and licked her pulse points. She was so hot and her heart was beating so fast already.

  He slipped himself almost all the way out, and pushed back in further, this time touching her cervix. “Look at me,” he whispered.

  She didn’t. Her eyes were closed and she’d started to take ragged breaths through her mouth.

  As hot as it was knowing he had that effect on her, he wanted her present. Fully aware that she affected him as much as he affected her.

  “Dana, sweetheart, please. Look at me.”

  With a deep breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to the ceiling, then slowly tracked her gaze to his face. Now, forced to bear witness to the engagement, she looked a bit startled. Frightened, even. What was she expecting?

  He resumed his hips’ motion, watching her face in between stolen kisses.

  Tentatively, she put her hands on his back—an embrace that felt somewhere between caress and plea—and swallowed hard enough for him to hear.

  “How are you?” he asked, propping himself onto his forearms as he worked her.

  She took in some air and after a moment managed, “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “So you don’t mind if I go faster?”

  “B-b-be my guest.”

  He laughed at how flat and serious her voice was, even with her eyelids fluttering and her cunt clenching around him as if it contained the last source of water in a desert. She would milk him dry at the rate she was going.

  With her permission, he increased his pace, slipping in and out of her slick, tight sex, his balls slapping against her ass as he pistoned.

  Beneath him, her belly quaked, and her fingernails clamped into his back. When she closed her eyes, he pulled out.

  Her eyelids sprang open and forehead furrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I was clear. Look at me.”

  She forced a hiss through clenched teeth, but gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. Compliance.

  “Thank you.” He eased back in, and this time when he stoked her, she hardly even blinked. So of course, she had to see every twitch of his lips as she clamped him tight, every gasp he sucked in, every grind of his teeth.

  She felt good. So good, and watching her face as her body received him was going to send him over the edge fast.

  God. The intimacy. The closeness. The emotion. And there was a lot of that. She not only wanted him, but he could see in those far-too-knowing eyes of hers that she needed him, too.

  Now it was his turn to want to close his eyes and stave off the torrent of what was coming, but he didn’t. He counted all the beer brands he knew from memory in his head and thought about the week’s pub payroll. That’d buy him a couple of minutes, at least.

  Finally, when her eyes began to water and her breaths became more ragged, he freed his hands from beneath the pillow and cupped her face between them. “Go on,” he whispered.

  He hoped she would, because he didn’t have much left.

  She cried out his name and held him tight, and she obviously understood what had happened, because suddenly there was confusion on her face, followed immediately by resignation. She wasn’t used to vocalizing it. He could tell.

  “Just enjoy it, sweetheart,” he said, and he came too, eyes wide open, whispering her name.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dana wasn’t sure if she should be ashamed of what she and Patrick had done. She didn’t do casual sex. Never had so much as a one-night-stan
d. The way she saw it, sex was a complication she didn’t need in her life, because it always came with strings attached. And Patrick? Patrick definitely felt like he had a lot of strings, and maybe some hooks, too. Perhaps a few of those hooks had already gotten under her skin.

  She lay there in the dark, listening to the sound of the wall clock in the kitchen tick off seconds, and Patrick’s slow, even breaths as he slept. Even in his sleep, he was tending to her. He lay on his belly with one arm and one leg slung over her body. She’d always been annoyed at that in the past—having her personal space invaded—but didn’t mind so much with him. He wasn’t just trying to take up space on the bed. He was trying to be in her space specifically.

  She liked him in her space.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered into the dark. Her fingers stroked the top ruffle of his messy hair, twining strands around them.

  “Can’t do what, sweetheart?” he whispered back.

  “You heard that, huh?”

  “Cat thing, I guess.”

  “If I go outside and shake a bag of kibble, will you come running?”

  He chuckled and pulled her a little closer. “Sweetheart, if it’s toward you, I’ll always come.”

  Her cheeks burned and she was glad he couldn’t see them in the dark.

  She’d been sweet-talked by a player or two in the past, but this was different. She knew it down to her gut that when Patrick blew smoke, it’s because there was a fire. He wasn’t trying to trick her, set her up for a bait-and-switch like so many others had. Humiliate her.

  He wanted her as she was, the idiot.

  She sat up. “Patrick, you do understand I’m a very difficult person to get along with, right?”

  “I have a well-honed sense of self-preservation,” he said, and she imagined him grinning because there was a smile in his voice.

  “I’m serious. Everyone tries to change me and they all fail. I’m warning you now.”

  “I have no interest in changing you. I’m sure your personality suits you well in a lot of ways, especially as a businesswoman. But, I’ll say this…”

  It felt like he was trying to sit up, but couldn’t manage it. The bed shook as he dropped his head back onto his pillow.

  “Ugh,” he grunted.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, just feeling a little tight. Worked a few muscles I haven’t taxed in a while, I guess. Anyhow, I’m the type of man who’s kind to people who are kind to him. If you try, sweetheart, I’ll reward you for it.”

  She drummed her fingers on her thighs as she considered the words. Sounded almost like positive reinforcement in a way. She was a lab rat again.

  “Dana, sweetheart, I can smell your sweat. Chill out.” He yawned and the mattress sank a bit as he rolled onto his side, facing her, given now she could feel his breath tickling her waist.

  “You’ve got to understand where I’m coming from.”

  “I’ll never understand where you’re coming from. I haven’t been in your shoes. I’m not going to pretend I know what you’ve been through. I just want you to get that I know it’s hard for you to open up. I’m not going to take anything personally that isn’t meant to be an insult.”

  “You can tell the difference? Most people can’t.”

  “I’ll learn it.”

  And just like that, he’d committed. What kind of shit is this? Men aren’t that easy.

  She let him stroke the side of her leg for a moment, then swung her other leg over the edge of the bed. “Shit, I need to find out where Sarah is.”

  He put an arm around her waist and pulled, ineffectually, then sighed. He sounded way too tired, given his occupation. He should have been raring to go for another few hours at least.

  “All right. I’ll keep the bed warm.”

  There was something in his voice she didn’t like. It was rough, and not from the sexy brogue that’d been making her private parts clench all evening, but as if he were in pain or had been drugged somehow.

  She’d been told she was a good shag before, but not that good. But, he’d said he was all right, so she stood.

  She slipped around the bed, patted the floor in search of clothing, and stood again with his shirt. She pulled it over her head and carefully made her way to the kitchen, somehow managing not to stub her toes in the dark before switching lights on.

  Her phone was in her blazer pocket, and when she plucked it out, there was one missed call, one missed message.

  She queued it up.

  “Hey, Boss lady. It’s Sarah checking in. Believe it or not, I’m at a payphone out in Macon County. Shit, hold on. Some guy is staring at me from his truck.”

  Dana looked at the clock. It was barely eleven and Sarah had left the message at ten. She must have ignored every single traffic law to get out there that fast. Or maybe…

  “Sorry about that. I’m back. Yeah, I took my dad’s plane. Don’t get mad. Flight instructor said I needed some night hours, so he came out with me. He has family in the area, and they loaned me a car. Listen, I’ve already picked up some leads and I’m going to go check them out. Give me a call and let me know where to meet you. I’m going to move out of this area and should have cellular connectivity again soon. If I don’t, I’ll find another payphone and check my messages that way. Bye.”

  Dana shook her head in awe. Leads already. When it came to picking up trails, even cold ones, Sarah was better than anyone…even Dana. She would have made a great cop, and it helped that she knew so many people, thanks to her last gig.

  Dana dialed Sarah’s number and when the voicemail prompt ended, relayed directions to the cabin. She stood, and decided to keep her phone on her just in case.

  There was cold water in the refrigerator, so she helped herself to a bottle, and on second thought returned to fetch a second. In the bedroom she patted the nightstand, found the lamp base, and eased her hand up until she found the switch. She clicked it.

  “Patrick, I brought you some—” She dropped the bottles and climbed onto the bed, shaking him.

  “Patrick!”

  He’d thrown the covers aside and his naked skin had acquired a sheen of sweat in the few minutes she’d been away. Dark circles hung beneath his closed eyes and his cheeks, formerly pink and healthy now stretched drained and white over his bones.

  He didn’t respond, only moaned.

  She straddled him, clamping him by the shoulders and shaking hard. “Patrick O’Dwyer, you answer me, now.”

  His skin was so hot to her touch. It was as if he’d been laying out in the sun for hours and his body was now reflecting all those rays back at her.

  He opened his mouth, and a hiss of breath rattled through his lips. “God, you’re…a battleaxe,” he said, eyes still closed.

  If he hadn’t have looked like so much shit, she might have slapped him for that retort, but the fact he was joking with her was a good sign. Right?

  “What’s wrong, Patrick? You’re hot as hell.”

  “Sexy.” A grin stretched his lips, and as if that’d been some sort of invitation, he grazed his hands up her naked backside and gave it a squeeze.

  “Not what I meant.” She swatted his hands away and leaned over the bed’s edge. Somehow, she managed to reach one of the water bottles without tumbling off and taking Patrick with her. “Here, drink this.”

  He forced his eyes open with a groan, blinking rapidly as if he was struggling to adjust to the light.

  Startled, she backed off him, mouth open in shock, or…what? Fear?

  Nah, not Dana.

  But his eyes, formerly the lush green of an Irish summer, were now a cat-like yellow-gray—some indefinable hue that didn’t exist in humans. His pupils had elongated into long slits. “Shit, turn off the light, sweetheart.”

  “Patrick…”

  “What is it?”

  “Not it. They. Your eyes.”

  He managed to work himself up to lean on his elbows. “What about them?”

  “They’re…they�
��re yellow.”

  It was as if the truth had dawned on him all at once. He took whatever strength he had and forced his legs over the edge of the bed. “I gotta go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I don’t know.” He stood, clenching his teeth in pain and rubbing the muscles of his thighs as if they were causing him considerable pain.

  Then it dawned on her, too. She hurried around the bed and got in front of him, putting the flat of her palms on his chest and nudging him back. “Patrick, you can’t just go out there alone. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  Gently, he gripped her wrists, kissed the backs of her hands, and let them fall. “Exactly. I don’t know. But it’s better for me to be out there than in here. I don’t know if I’ll be me or some beast who can’t rationalize. When I leave, you lock the door.”

  “No, that’s ridiculous. I’m not going to let you—”

  He kissed her. Shut her right up by delving his tongue into her mouth and stilling it. When he backed away, she was breathless and could hardly remember what objection she was going to make. With a groan, he stepped into his jeans, but didn’t bother buttoning them.

  Her expression must have been so easy to read a blind man could have, because he said, “Dana, this is what I would have been doing even if you hadn’t come.”

  “But, I’m here. Why would you want to do this alone?”

  He scoffed, then cringed. “Shit, it’s starting, I can feel it. I don’t know what’s happening, but it hurts. Dana, just lock the doors, all right? If I get too close, you take that Ruger and you shoot. There’s silver in it.”

  “S-silver?”

  He shrugged. “Just a precaution. Please. I’ll be back at sunup, I guess, but you don’t have to wait around.” He grabbed her hand and walked her to the front door and pointed to the tree line in the distance. “Once I disappear into there, make a run for your car. Go meet up with your employee, and I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

  “No.”

  She watched a lump travel down his convulsing throat and his grip on her hand tightened. “This isn’t a great time to be difficult, shrew.”