Pull At My Heart

by Ellie Malouff

  “Shall I?” I ask him about the soap.

  He opens his eyes and they’re on fire, fierce as ever and drilling into my own. He nods and then closes his eyes again before leaning back under the spray.

  It’s hard work soaping up a man as chiseled and defined as him. Okay, that’s a lie—it’s a complete pleasure. Shoulders, pecs, back, abs, ass, thighs, and calves. I cover it all. There’s only one more place to go and I’ve held out long enough.

  I touch him.

  There.

  His eyes are on mine and I don’t break that contact as I start to stroke him. He’s rock hard but silky smooth.

  “Lass,” he grunts, and then closes his eyes tightly as he slides along my palm.

  I want this. I want to make him feel good. I want him to come undone and just melt into this pleasure. That moment is close, so close, and I’m ready for it, but he suddenly grabs my hand and stops me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he puts his mouth on mine and kisses me like he’ll never kiss me again. I’m overwhelmed with the sensation, but also confused. I pull back a little and he leaves my mouth to go to my neck. He’s ravenous and I’m burning for him.

  Finally, he speaks with such utter urgency it startles me, “I need to be inside you.”

  He shuts off the water, pulls back the curtain and, in a series of fast motions, I’m being carried and kissed roughly all the way to his bedroom. The next thing I know, I’m on my back and spread open on his bed.

  “We’ll get your bed wet,” I worry.

  “Good,” he replies and captures my mouth again.

  “I need to get ready for work,” I mumble as soon as he pulls back.

  “I won’t need long. I just need you, Juliana. I need you so much.”

  “Eoghan,” I whisper and our eyes lock. He’s checking before he continues. I need him just as much as he needs me. Our breath mingles and our skin is pressed together so snugly it’s hard to understand where each of us begins and ends. My eyes tell him everything, all the want and need I have for him. All the love.

  It clicks for him and my wordless plea is heard. His kisses start again at my jaw and hurriedly travel down my body, stopping only to pull each nipple and give it a good suck. The way his morning stubble grazes against my skin drives me wild. My back arches off the bed as the word “please” slips out of my mouth. It’s a cry, a request, and a promise that I will never stop wanting him like this.

  He digs into my hot wet center, his thumb going to work immediately on my nub. I start to writhe and press up as hard as he’s pressing down.

  “Come for me,” he commands, because the moment has set this scene. We need it hard and fast.

  “Yes,” I hiss and a few strokes later I come, tight and strained. My fingers press sharply into his shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch. He holds me, his face buried in my wet hair as I ride it out, and then he lets me go as I start to come down and quickly sits up on his knees to put on a condom. He drops to his elbows as he starts to squeeze into me and my, oh my, it feels so damn good. There’s nothing in my brain but him and this and us.

  “Holy…fuck,” he sputters against my mouth as he continues to press forward, then his forehead drops to mine and he mumbles, “Christ…I…” but he doesn’t complete that thought. His jaw sets and then visibly trembles as he starts to pick up the pace.

  I’m ready for it. I want him to move, thrust, fuck, and I make that clear by bucking up and trying to take everything I can get from him. He doesn’t let me down. He gives me his all, going as deep and hard as he can.

  “God, Eoghan,” I mutter through moans as I move beneath him. His eyes are wide open and staring down at me. I feel so connected to him. And I feel relieved to have this connection, because I don’t think I could make it another day with space between us.

  I have no sense of time, but I know he won’t let me down in that department, either. Before I know it, he snakes his hand down between us and starts to rub my clit as he continues to thrust. It drives me absolutely crazy and I can’t control my squirming. My orgasm is within reach and he knows it, because he drives it home, pushing me over the edge and then following quickly after. He collapses onto me and I hold him to me, never wanting to let him go.

  “Please, Juliana,” he speaks into my skin. “Make time for this, make time for us.”

  “I will, Eoghan,” I say, and hope to God I can keep my promise.

  “So anyway, Dylan wants to invest in the pub and help me renovate the kitchen,” Eoghan tells me as we enter the town of Ballycoom.

  “Really? That’s amazing! Eoghan, you’re going to get your gastropub.”

  He beams the most beautiful smile and I am so happy for him. He deserves it all, truly.

  “You’re going to be a chef!”

  “Chef,” he says, and laughs like it’s unreal.

  “What’s going to be on the menu? And can I be your taste tester?”

  “I have no idea, and of course you can be my taste tester,” he says and squeezes my leg.

  “This is so cool. You and Dylan!”

  “Yeah, but…” he starts, and I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going.

  “Ruth, right? Like, what is he going to do about that whole thing? I mean, she’s still planning on going to New York, yeah?”

  “Exactly. She’s definitely still going to New York. I asked him about it, but he pushed back on the idea of following her altogether. He wouldn’t hear it.”

  “God, he’s so stubborn.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “But at least you tried, Eoghan.”

  “I did,” he says and then frowns. Eoghan is a natural fixer. That was one of the first things I learned about him, and I love him for it. I can tell it’s bothering him that he can’t fix Dylan and Ruth, and I’m afraid he’s going to have to let that one go. They’re just too complicated. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks about them, so I use the opportunity to check my personal email. It’s been days since I’ve done it. I just haven’t been able to keep up.

  “Whoa,” I blurt out as I stare down at my phone.

  “What?” Eoghan asks as he pulls into the parking lot of CloudSoft Solutions.

  “My email. Uh…apparently, Liam has been referring me to people.”

  “For your photography?”

  “Yeah, there are”—and I count them—“four separate people asking if they can meet with me about my photography services,” I say, and use air quotes around that last bit. “Two musicians, a furniture shop, and an actress who wants head shots.”

  He’s smiling so proudly. “That’s class, lass.”

  “That’s crazy, more like it. I can’t possibly do that. God, it’s like Liam knows everybody.”

  He turns offs the ignition and turns toward me. “He does know everybody, but that’s not the point. Why can’t you do it?”

  “Well for one, I don’t have a business set up. Like, could I even do that as an American here?”

  “Details,” Eoghan says and shrugs. “What else?”

  “Those aren’t just details, Eoghan,” I reply, and then brush a wisp of hair behind my ears. “I mean, that matters.”

  “What else?” he continues, not deterred at all.

  “Well, I’m not exactly set up for that, am I?”

  “You’ve got the studio.”

  “Yeah, but my equipment isn’t the most professional stuff and I haven’t been professionally trained.”

  “You’re damned gifted lass, that’s all that matters. It’s your eye that they want. What else?”

  “God, you make this sound so easy.”

  “It is easy.”

  “It’s not,” I tell him, and I’m struggling to breathe. I wish it were this easy, but he knows damn well what I know. I don’t have time. I barely have time to spend with him. How the hell could I take on a side photography business? “Eoghan, my free time is precious these days. If I’m working an
y side gigs, it’s going to be down in the pub.”

  His eyes move from mine down to my knees. “Lass,” he starts, and then clears his throat. “We’re going to hire some more help.”

  “You are?” I say, and even though it makes all the sense in the world, it hurts.

  He meets my eyes again. They’re soft and sad. “You can always, always help in the pub. I want you there. I want you with me all the time, but I need you to know that you don’t have to do it. We’ll be covered. We’ve got to be, especially if we turn the place into a gastropub.”

  “I know,” I tell him, but I have to hold back tears. This whole work situation sucks. Totally fucking sucks. I glance at the clock and I’m two minutes late. Shit! “I’ve got to go in.”

  “Wait,” he says, and puts his hand on my thigh and takes hold of my hand.

  I quickly glance around the parking lot and I don’t see Aiden’s car, feeling the slightest bit relieved he isn’t at work yet. “What?”

  “Will you consider the photography work? I know you love it.”

  I take a deep breath and nod my head. “Okay.”

  He dips his head a little lower and catches my gaze. His eyes are happier and I’m guessing mine are, too. He brushes some hair away from my face and leans across to kiss me. It’s a very sweet kiss. Our lips know how to lock together perfectly. My hands find their way into his hair and that little action turns our innocent kiss into something a little rawer. With ease, our tongues meet and I totally lose all awareness of my surroundings and time.

  Eoghan pulls back first and I’m enchanted by the smile on his face. “You’ve got to go,” he says—and just like that, the spell is broken. I glance at the dash clock. I’ve lost another two minutes.

  Worse yet, my tardiness will not go unnoticed by my boss, because Aiden is standing there watching us and I’m guessing he’s been watching us for some time. We make the briefest of eye contact and then he walks off toward the building. I look back at Eoghan, who is still looking at me. Thank goodness, he didn’t notice Aiden watching us. I have a feeling Eoghan would love nothing more than to beat the shit out of Aiden. As much as I would enjoy that, too, I know better. It would make everything so much worse.

  “Hey, I’ve got to go now.”

  “I’m sorry I kept ya.”

  “Don’t apologize, especially not for that.”

  “Bye, lass. See you tonight.”

  “See you tonight.”

  On the way to my desk, I prepare myself for Aiden’s retaliation. I fully expect an email to be waiting in my inbox that documents my tardiness, but there isn’t one. I glance over at his office, but he’s not there, either. Instead he’s in Deidre’s office, talking to her about something as he paces around the room.

  She’s as hard to read as ever as he goes on and on. Finally, she nods once and then looks directly at me. This can’t be good. I brace myself for one of her cunning smiles, but that’s not what I get at all. Her forehead is wrinkled and she bites down on her lip. She looks…concerned. About me.

  Aiden steps out of her office and goes back to his own without even glancing in my direction.

  Fuck!

  I consider that I might be paranoid, or maybe I’m just being vain. Not everything is about me. There’s a whole slew of CloudSoft topics they could have been discussing. Maybe I’m not registering on his radar this morning.

  But then I remember the icy feeling of seeing him stopped, dead in his tracks, watching me and Eoghan in the car.

  If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have done that.

  He cares, and for all the wrong reasons. I haven’t broken his heart, or stomped on his feelings. I’ve bruised his ego, plain and simple. And there’s a part of me that really is starting to think that he believes I owe him for this job and that I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.

  Well that is a bunch of shit.

  I earned this position. I’ve worked above and beyond what was ever expected of me and I’ve done it well.

  I watch Aiden wearily most of the day, but he never looks in my direction. He works, he takes phone calls, but he never once gives me any indication that something is wrong. And to my most utter surprise, I don’t receive any kind of reprimanding email. Instead, the workday carries on as if nothing happened at all.

  Eoghan

  “So, if you remove this wall and then use part of the storeroom, you’ll be able to have the ten-burner range you want and the three-compartment sink,” Seán says. The drawings he’s made for a potential kitchen renovation are laid out between us on my desk. In the week since Dylan and I worked out our new partnership, our plans are moving fast on the renovation.

  “That wall isn’t load bearing?” I ask.

  “No, but this wall is,” Seán says, and points it out using a sharpened pencil.

  “Interesting, and seemingly doable,” I mutter.

  “Space isn’t the problem. It’s ventilation. Right now, there’s only this one exhaust.”

  “Right.”

  “That’s not enough. You’ll have to put in a ceiling unit right in the center. That’s why I think,” he says, and flips to a second page that has a different design, “you might be better off with a large island that has a five-burner range on each side of it and a double sink. I know that’s not exactly what you wanted, but you’ll get more work area along the walls, and you can install shelves. You’ll still have your other double sink that’s there today.”

  “And the oven?”

  “That’s easy. It can go here, and you’ll still have room for that dishwasher you want.”

  “That’s class,” I tell him and look up at Dylan, who’s been listening carefully. “What do you think?”

  “I’m worried about the storeroom. Both designs cut it in half.”

  Seán nods. “Well, you could always use the floor above us for overflow, maybe put in a dumb waiter.”

  “That’s Juliana’s studio,” I’m quick to remind them.

  “Does she need all that space?” Seán asks.

  My arms cross across my chest. “Yes, she needs all of it.”

  Dylan gives me a look. A look that says: you’re bananas.

  Seán is also looking at me as if I’m gone in the mind. Well, when it comes my lass, I am, and I’m not terribly apologetic about it.

  “Listen,” I tell them. “Juliana’s got people clawing at her to set up portrait sessions. This may turn into something…and she may really need this if her work situation doesn’t improve.”

  The lads glance at each other and then back at me.

  “What?”

  Dylan bites. “It’s the pub, mate. We’ve got to make it the top priority, and we’ve got to ensure this place can operate properly, especially if you want to make these improvements.”

  “I won’t infringe on her space.”

  “Eoghan…” Seán starts.

  “I won’t do it. Take this office. Use this for the storeroom.”

  Seán’s face twists in disgust. “Grandda’s office?”

  “It’s not his anymore, is it?” And that comes out way harsher than it needed to.

  They both look at each other again and then Dylan leans over and rests on his elbows. “Listen, we’ve got a little time. Think about it. Maybe there’s something we can do to give Juliana her studio and use part of the area for storage.”

  “Maybe,” I reply. “I’m sure there’s a solution. We’ll come up with it.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Seán says.

  I look back at the designs and am filled with pride at my little brother. He’s going to be a savage architect one day. “This is smashing, Seán. Well done, lad.”

  Dylan pats him on the back in silent agreement.

  A quiet moment passes between us and then Seán clears his throat and asks, “Have you talked to dad about this?”

  “This is none of his business.”

  “I know he really wants to contribute. He still can,” Seán suggests.

  “Are you d
efending him?”

  “No, but he seems to have worked it out, Eoghan. He wants to make amends and reparations, to some extent.”

  My jaw sets tight as my fists ball up. Dylan dutifully slips out of the office and leaves us alone.

  “Don’t you fall for it, Seán.”

  “I’m not. Trust me, I’ve been very skeptical, but it’s been a couple of weeks now.”

  “A couple of weeks? A couple of weeks? Do you think that means anything at all?”

  “I think—”

  “It means nothing. Not a bleedin’ thing. I see him for what he is. He’s an addict and his habit will never die.”

  “But, he’s—”

  “I won’t hear it. Not another word, Seán,” I warn him and just like that, my little brother buttons up about it.

  I walk him out of the office and we stop by the bar where Dylan is working on inventory.

  “Good luck. Cheers,” Seán says and takes off.

  Dylan lifts his chin in acknowledgement and then turns to me. “When do you think we can start?”

  “Well, there’s something I need to do first and I need the kitchen completely intact. What are you doing Thursday?”

  “I’ll be here, as always,” he responds, his eyes lit with curiosity.

  “Grand, I’ll let you know more about it as my plan comes together.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “Partner,” I correct him.

  I look down at my watch and see it’s half three. “Where’s Ruth?”

  “I’m not her keeper,” Dylan says bitterly.

  “We’ve got interviews this afternoon for the wait staff job.”

  And just like that, Ruth breezes through the doors and into the pub. “Hi, hi, sorry I’m late.”

  Dylan turns away from her and starts counting bottles.

  “No worries, you’re right on time,” I tell her. “The first applicant will be here in fifteen minutes. Let’s go prepare.”

  “Grand.”

  “Dylan, send ’em back to the office, yeah?”

  “Will do,” he says and keeps on counting.

  “What’s with the cold shoulder?” I ask Ruth after we get into the office.