And then he followed me over the edge.
When his orgasm had pulled the last tremor from his body, Donal laughed and rested back on his palms as I rolled off him and onto my back. Leaning over to stare down into my eyes, he said, “This is the best fucking day of my life.”
And it occurred to me that it ranked right up there for me too.
Chapter 10
L A U R E N
For the next several days, I kept reminding myself that Donal wasn't going to walk through the kitchen door. And yet, my eyes strayed there every time I heard footsteps in the hall.
Except today was different. Just now I’d heard boisterous shouting on the other side of the door, some "fuck you's" and then he was there, limping into my kitchen. They’d changed out his boot for a larger, more stable one, and he lumbered now more than he walked.
"How'd your meeting go?" I asked as he made his way to my side and tugged me forward for a kiss. I made sure to keep my hands—coated in olive oil and herbs and spices—away from his clothing as I wrapped my arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe to meet his lips.
"About as well as you'd expect,” he answered, leaning his hip on the counter.
Donal had talked with his coach on Monday about what his options were, but they'd both known there was really only one. Today, the team would announce his retirement. Normally, a third string player retiring from rugby at the age of 22 wouldn't be newsworthy, but when your dad was Callum Casey and you'd suffered the same career-ending Achilles rupture as he had, the press was hungry to write about it.
I wiped my hands on a towel and clasped our fingers together. "I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that, and my words don't do anything to change the situation or make it better, but I'm here for you."
"I know," he said, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "Just being with you makes everything better."
Across the kitchen, Kathleen and Bess snickered and rolled their eyes while I pretended to ignore them. At first, I'd been concerned how people would react to Donal and I being together, but then I'd pushed those worries aside. If I were a 32-year-old man and he a 22-year-old woman, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact, one of the guys on the team who was nearing 35 was currently dating a former Miss Ireland who I was pretty sure was barely legal.
But it wasn’t just our age difference that drew curious glances. People like Bess and Kathleen thought Donal was a major player and I was “a stupid fucking eejit” for having fallen for his smooth words and practiced come-ons. But they didn't know him—not like I did. All they saw was a guy who hadn’t a care in the world, and who spent all of his free time indulging his baser instincts.
Once I’d realized that wasn’t who he was at all, I’d asked Donal why he let people think he was a walking, talking asshole. He’d shrugged and told me it was just easier that way. Easier how, he hadn’t said, but I’d walked away with the impression that Donal had grown up with a lot of expectations placed on his shoulders, and everything he did now was to rebel against that upbringing.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
He clasped the back of his neck and shifted his eyes away, a nervous gesture he pulled out whenever he was about to discuss his father. Donal loved Callum, but their relationship was complicated and fraught with landmines—especially now that his career as a professional athlete was over. He and his dad might have played different sports, but Callum Casey had expected his son to excel just as much as he had.
“I’m meeting Dad and his lawyers to go over my trust.”
My eyes darted toward my co-workers, but they were absorbed in their prep work for today’s meal and didn’t appear to be listening. “Anything you need to be worried about?”
“Nah,” he answered, pushing my concerns aside. “I started getting regular monthly payouts when I turned 21, but now that I won’t have my rugby money—not that it was much—they’ll probably just want to discuss managing the portfolio and planning for my future.”
“Okay then,” I said, going back to my prep work. Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether Donal’s blasé attitude toward his future lack of employment was an act or if he truly wasn’t concerned with not having a backup plan in place now that rugby was off the table. But since he seemed indifferent to it, I didn’t want to worry on his behalf. “Let me know if you want to get together later.”
“Oh, I will,” he replied, taking a step closer so our hips touched. With the table blocking anyone’s line of sight, Donal skated his hands over my hip to cup my ass. “I’m thinking dessert first, then dinner,” he growled.
My body immediately grew hot with desire. “Let’s do dinner first and then dessert. I’m thinking an all-you-can-eat buffet that’s open all night long.”
Just thinking about all the wicked and delightful things he’d do to me tonight had my breasts turning heavy with longing.
“You are the smartest fucking woman I know,” he said, squeezing my ass in his big, strong hands. I’d never get over how he could palm an entire cheek with just one squeeze. “Tonight, you’re coming no less than five times.”
Donal was voracious. If it was up to him, we’d never leave my apartment, ordering delivery every night and then fucking until we passed out from exhaustion. I shouldn't have been surprised—he had youth and an athlete’s stamina on his side—but good lord, he could come and then be hard again in a minute. Sometimes it was difficult keeping up with him. A woman was supposed to hit her sexual prime in her 30s, but my prime was clearly no match for his.
Now that he didn’t have to worry about winning matches anymore, he’d told me his only goal in life was to fuck me until I couldn’t walk the next day. As far as goals went, I supposed it was as good as any, but I’d never seen someone pursue an endeavor so single-mindedly. It was a miracle I was managing to keep up, I thought, flexing my jaw. This morning, I’d had to resort to a quick blow job to keep him from mauling me as I was walked to the bathroom to get ready for work.
With a quick smack on my ass, and then a smack of his lips to my cheek, Donal turned and strolled out of the kitchen, winking at Bess as he went.
The second the double doors swung shut, Kathleen—her eyes remaining glued to the lamb she was butterflying—said, “You need to tell me your secret.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You didn’t just land one of Dublin’s most eligible young bachelors, you’ve got him panting after you like a dog in heat.” She chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cast a love charm on our Donal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how you’re the only woman in Dublin who’s been able to get Donal Casey to come back for seconds.”
“And thirds and fourths, from the looks of it,” Bess chimed in.
I shrugged. “We get along all right.”
“I’d say you do,” Kathleen tittered and then went back to cutting vegetables, while I tried to put the conversation behind me.
I’d been sufficiently warned about Donal, so their commentary shouldn’t have fazed me, but somehow it did. Not that I didn’t trust him. Since our first kiss, he hadn’t been with anyone else. He wasn’t the manwhore he’d been before we met. He’d changed—for me.
But what about when I’m gone?
For the second time this morning, I found myself wondering what would happen when I boarded the plane back to Los Angeles. I’d tried not to get too attached to Donal, but like I’d said from the beginning, I didn’t do casual sex. During our time together I’d grown to care about him—more than I’d ever wanted to. And now, the idea of leaving him had me tied up in knots.
He’d asked me to stay in Ireland a few extra weeks after my contract with Dublin Rugby was up, but maybe there was a different solution. Maybe, now that he was officially retired, I could convince him to come back to L.A with me. He had family there, too. Surely he’d want to spend time with his half brothers and sisters?
Hmm, this idea doesn’t sound half bad, I thought, shovi
ng the lamb in the oven to braise for the next couple of hours.
Maybe we could explore Ireland together when my contract was up, and then I’d show him California. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It didn’t have to mean anything.
Shit, who was I kidding? I really wanted it to.
Chapter 11
D O N A L
When I showed up at Lauren’s apartment to pick her up for our date, I found her pacing a trail through her living room rug. I'd told her a hundred times she had nothing to be nervous about, but hanging out with Eoin and Aoife was giving her some serious anxiety.
“I'm telling you, it'll be fine,” I said as we sat in the back seat of a taxi on our way to the museum.
When I'd re-ruptured my Achilles and then spent the weekend in Lauren’s bed screwing her brains out, I'd rescheduled with Eoin for this week instead. Lauren didn't care what most people thought when they realized we were together, but she didn't want the guys not to think of her like some dirty old lady. And yeah, I'd gotten some shit from a few of them about my cougar, but I'd assured her Eoin and Aoife would be the least judgmental people she'd ever meet. I mean, you couldn't be when you'd been knocked up at 21.
“Is it silly that I want them to like me?”
“They will.”
As if I hadn't answered she continued, “I mean, I don't need them to love me or anything since I won't be around long, but since Eoin knows your story, I kind of want him to think I'm worthy of you.”
I laughed and squeezed her fingers. “Trust me. That won't be a problem.”
I'd lived with Eoin long enough that he knew all my worst flaws. It wasn't a question of Lauren being worthy of me, but vice versa. But she'd find that out soon enough.
Right now I wanted to talk about that other thing she'd brought up. I hadn't said anything about it, but I was getting frustrated at how often she mentioned her departure. We both knew it was inevitable, but lately, I felt like she was throwing it out there more frequently—as if to remind each of us that what we had wasn't permanent and we shouldn't get attached.
The problem with that was I already was.
Fergus thought it was because Lauren had some magical pussy that I couldn't get enough of but that wasn't it. Okay, it was true I couldn't get enough of her delicious cunt, but there was way more to Chef Andrews than just her magic pussy. Shock of all shocks, I enjoyed her brain, including hearing her take on politics and economics. I'd learned more about world affairs from talking to her these past couple of weeks than I'd ever learned in school. No doubt I loved Lauren’s cooking, but I could totally see how she would have made an excellent diplomat or something if her dad hadn't died and she'd stayed at Harvard.
“Have you given any more thought to what I asked the other night?”
For the past week, I'd been trying to persuade her to stay in Dublin longer than she'd initially planned. Lauren’s contract with Dublin Rugby was for eight weeks, but her visa allowed her to remain in the country for a full 90 days. Since I wasn't playing anymore, we could use those extra days to see Ireland together. And secretly I hoped some more time together would help get her out of my system … because if things continued the way they were, I was going to be one sad puppy when she left. We'd talked offhandedly a couple of times about me flying out to LA to visit her--which I totally planned on doing--but I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn't going to be satisfied with that if I couldn't get her out of my system before then.
The taxi pulled to a stop outside the museum, and she turned to me. “Let's talk about that tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I answered passing the driver a €20 and waiting for my change.
Inside, we met up with Eoin, who told us Aoife was in the toilet. Apparently, that was something that occurred a lot now. I'd be lying if I said pregnancy didn’t freak me out a bit. With the crazy shit that was happening to Aoife—the way her body wasn’t her own anymore—I was more than halfway convinced she was hosting an alien life form in her belly … not another human being.
“Hey, I’m Eoin.”
Shyly, Lauren reached out her hand.
“For fuck’s sake. You already met,” I exclaimed, interrupting the exchange.
“Not really,” Eoin replied. “When Lauren was introduced, you zeroed in on her before anyone could get a word in.”
With an abashed chuckle, I recalled how the second I'd seen her walk into the room carrying that heavy plate of food, I'd wanted to claim her. The response had been unlike anything I’d ever experienced. One glance at Lauren and the word mine roared through my head like a freight train on a collision course with destiny. I’d been so naive to think one taste of her would ever be enough. Shit, we'd only left her apartment 30 minutes ago, and already I wanted to drag her back there and strip her naked. I needed to leave my mark on her so that when she left in a couple of weeks, she never forgot about me … because I sure as fuck was never going to forget her.
This wasn’t how I’d seen things playing out that day. I’d wanted to mess around with her, get my mouth on her body, but I hadn’t anticipated things going any further than that. I didn’t take most things seriously, but I was serious as a heart attack about getting my fill of Lauren Andrews. Somehow, she’d managed to do something no other woman had: get under my skin and stay there. I was consumed by her, and it scared the fuck out of me. I was close to begging her not to go back to the U.S., but I knew there was only one way to make sure that she stayed. And I didn’t think either of us was ready for that yet.
Breaking that thought, Eoin snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Hey man, you in there?”
I blinked. “Sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”
Lauren rested a hand against my shoulder. “You feel okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, scrubbing a hand down my face before giving her a reassuring smile.
The pain in my Achilles had ratcheted up the past couple of days, and I was having trouble sleeping. The pills the doctor had prescribed made me sick to my stomach, so I’d stopped taking them. But neither the pain or my sleepless nights were why I’d zoned out just now. That said, I was happy to let Lauren think they were because I didn’t want her to suspect the real reason my mind had just floated a million miles away. “Just tired is all.”
Just then, Aoife strolled up, her beach ball belly leading the way. She’d gotten so much bigger since I’d last seen her. It was still hard to believe she was going to be a mom. But more importantly, Eoin—my 22-year-old best friend—was going to be a dad.
If he can be a dad, why can’t you—?
I put a lid on that idea before I could finish the rest of that sentence.
“I’m Aoife. You must be Lauren. Nice to meet you.”
After another round of introductions, the four of us made our way inside the museum.
“So, what did you want to see first?” Eoin turned to me with the museum map in his hands.
I shrugged. The truth was, I didn’t have the first clue about anything here. I just knew the place was open late and that smart people like Lauren typically liked museums. Turning to my girl, I asked, “What do you think?”
Studying the map in her hand for a quick moment, she glanced back up. “The bog people?” she asked, looking between the rest of us.
Aoife scrunched up her nose. “You go on ahead. They freak me out.”
Eoin laughed and rolled his eyes as he led the way toward the part of the museum that housed the famous bog people. “Not this again.”
“I don’t care what you say; they should have decomposed like everyone else.”
“You know why they didn’t though, right?”
Back and forth they went as we walked, sounding as if they’d had this discussion countless times before. Which they probably had. Eoin and Aoife had known each other their whole lives. While I’d been growing up in America, they’d been visiting places like this on school field trips.
“They’re cute,” Lauren whispered. “How long have they been together?”
I smirked. “They grew up in the same town and have been friends forever, but they’ve been together less than a year.”
Lauren’s eyes grew wide, and I chuckled. “Yeah, she got knocked up literally the first time they had sex.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yup, pretty much.”
Her eyes wandered to my friends. Eoin was dragging Aoife toward the clear glass case while she exclaimed promises of retribution.
She continued staring at them, a speculative look on her face.
“What?” I asked.
Lauren shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she said, moving toward the display.
As she went, I studied her the same way she’d been studying Eoin and Aoife, wondering what she’d been thinking. It sucked that they’d gotten pregnant so young, but it was doubly hard because Aoife looked a few years younger than she was. Because of it, they dealt with a lot of judgmental assholes who looked at her and saw just another pregnant teenager. I didn’t think Lauren was like that, but knowing her stance on kids, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she wasn’t judging them too.
Stepping near, I wrapped my arm around her waist and bent down to whisper in her ear. “They’re good people and they love each other.”
Her eyes darted up to meet mine. “What?”
I notched my chin toward Aoife and Eoin, who were looking at a nearby display of ancient Irish artifacts. “You had a look on your face just now.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“What’s it like then?” I asked, studying her face.
We hadn’t known each other long, but I’d quickly learned to read her expressions, so I knew when Lauren was holding back on me. She would have made a terrible poker player.
She glanced toward Eoin and Aoife again and then back to me. The right side of her mouth hitched up in a small grin. “It doesn’t seem like an unplanned pregnancy has put a strain on their relationship. You look at them and you can immediately tell they’re in love.”
SCRUMptious: (Dublin Rugby #3) Page 8
