The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  “How could you hear that?” she asked, amazed as his ability.

  “I just tuned everythin’ else out. That’s the way that I feel when ya walk into the room, love. Everythin’ else just goes away. Ya are like beautiful music. Ya bring me such happiness.”

  Casey was unable to contain her emotions after receiving such a captivating compliment. A single tear escaped her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. Conor brushed it away softly, his own eyes appearing a bit misty. He pulled her close to him, and the two of them swayed to music that only they could hear. Together, they tuned the world out, and they were the only two people that remained in the universe.

  The next morning, Casey awoke in her new apartment, Conor holding her tightly, his flesh pressed snugly against hers. She reminisced about making love to him the night before, her heart thudding loudly and butterflies consuming her insides. Something had changed between them.

  After they had danced for what seemed like hours, he had led her silently to the bedroom, laying her down gently as if she were as fragile as her Nanna’s special china. Casey had loved that china—making sure to always be extra careful with it as she helped set it out for Christmas. She thought how she now resembled the china, delicate and elegant. Conor handled her with as much care.

  When he had made love to her, there was no trace of the dominant and fierce man that she had been sleeping with for months now. Instead, he had slid into her flesh softly, making slow thrusts deep inside her. Their eyes had remained locked on one another the entire time, only taking breaks to slide closed when their lips met. She had never felt that much emotion, so thick in the air that it was nearly impossible to breathe.

  When they had neared orgasm, Casey thought that she heard Conor mutter that he loved her. This normally would have scared her away instantly, but she was unsure if she actually heard the words or if she had just been caught up in the moment. After they had climaxed at the same time, they lay beside one another in silence, holding hands and enjoying the bliss they shared. Casey had slept sound, no nightmares invading her mind.

  As she watched her lover now in a deep slumber beside her, she contemplated how different things had become in a matter of months. She had a creeping suspicion that she was coming out from under her veil of grief. She thought for the first time in over a year that she might actually get a second chance at life, at love, at happiness. Maybe it was the apartment, or Conor, or Sammie being her roommate once again. Maybe it was the baby on the way. Whatever was the cause, Casey’s heart was so full it threatened to burst at the seams. Gone was the empty shell of a human that she had been for far too long. Decreasing were the nightmares that plagued her and reminded her of an unimaginable hell. She was alive, and she was desperate to continue living.

  Conor stirred in his sleep, and she bent over to kiss him. His eyes opened groggily, revealing the softest shade of emerald.

  “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, love,” he said. Casey giggled, thankful that Conor had waltzed into her life.

  Chapter 20

  Over the course of the next month, Casey and Conor spent a great deal of time together. The weather was changing in Boston, which excited Casey to no end. There had never been much of a winter in the part of Texas she came from, so the scent of impending snow in the chilly air made her ecstatic. She could not wait for the city to be blanketed in white. She thought often about she and Conor sharing a blanket, drinking coffee and watching the snowfall together. She fantasized about making love on a plush rug in front of a dazzling fireplace, their flesh damp with sweat, their bodies dancing in the flickering light from a searing fire. She could not wait! But, until the sky warned of the first snow, Casey made due having long, leisurely dates with her Irishman.

  One cool morning in October, she was awoken by a brisk knocking at her door. She sluggishly answered, though she must have looked a fright. Conor stood before her donning a Red Sox jersey and baseball hat. He held out his hand, offering her two tickets to a game.

  “Are ya free today, love? The Sox are playing the Yanks, and I need a date!”

  “Of course I am free,” Casey said. “What time is the game?”

  “Ya have exactly one hour to get ready. The game starts at 1, but we’re goin’ to go get pissed first.” Casey loved when he used words like “pissed” and “bollocks.” Some of his dialect was not used in everyday conversation by Americans, which made him even more appealing. How am I so lucky?

  She let him in and rushed off to get ready. About 45 minutes later, Casey walked out into the living room, excited that she had went from scary to ready in less than the allotted hour. Conor was sitting on the couch sipping on the Jameson he had helped himself to. When he spotted her, he sat down his glass and stood.

  “Well, would ya look at that?” he said, obviously impressed by her outfit. She had always been a fan of the Sox, so it was no surprise that she had a few different jerseys, hats, T-shirts, etc. to choose from.

  “What? I told you I liked baseball. Did you expect me in a dress or something?”

  He laughed and waltzed over to brush a quick kiss on her forehead. “No, love, I am just surprised at how cute ya look in a cap is all.”

  She had actually thought the same thing about herself when she covered her long black mane with the cap. She hadn’t thought much about herself over the last year, but something about being with Conor made her feel sexy. She had been desperately trying to exercise, she had been running often, eating better, and drinking less. She applied makeup more often, though she would never be one of those girls that plastered a bunch of wild, crazy colors on her face. She had been trying to straighten her hair more often, using products for shine and anti-frizz. She wanted to look good for him, because it was getting harder for her to deny that she was falling in love with him. Keeping him in her life was her main priority.

  “Isn’t it a little early for whiskey?” she asked jokingly, thinking how good a glass actually sounded.

  “Ah, bollocks! Ne’er too early for whiskey on game day. Are ya ready then, love?”

  “Almost,” she said as she looked to the kitchen, thought what the hell and went to pour herself a glass. If your man shows up with tickets to Fenway, looking absolutely adorable in game day gear, and wants to drink Jameson at 11 a.m, you join him.

  By the bottom of the 8th, Conor and Casey were thoroughly “pissed,” as he would say. They had started the day with lunch and beer at a bar close to the park, which was overflowing with drunken Boston fans. The high-spirited crowd yelled and sang, their thick New England accents drowning out any conversation that she and Conor could have had. She had laughed as Conor joined in some of the songs, his bellowing Irish accent overpowering them all. About a half hour before game time, they had walked to Fenway, lost in a sea of red and blue. When they finally got to their seats, Casey had been surprised (though she shouldn’t have been) that they were in the first row behind first base. She had been to a game or two before, but she was always stuck in the nosebleed section. This was the first time ever that she was so close she could smell the field in front of her. She had given Conor a long kiss, thanking him for bringing her.

  By the 9th inning, the crowd was getting rowdy as the Yankees were down by 5. Like everyone else, Casey knew that a win was on the horizon. She could not wait to see the crowd’s reaction then! As she was enjoying what must have been her tenth beer of the day, something happened that caught her completely off-guard.

  “Conor M’Cullagh. How have you been?” Casey heard a female voice say. She turned to see a tall brunette standing right beside Conor. She was stunning, her hair long and dark, her skin an exotic olive color. Her breasts were perky, and her body was tight and slender all over. She wore a short black skirt and four-inch strappy heels. Casey thought about how the woman’s outfit was a strange choice to wear to a game, but she looked flawless. She could have been one of those models you see on the Victoria Secret Fashion Show.

  “Oh Jaysus, Annika! How are ya, love?”
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br />   The words seared into Casey’s brain, as Conor stood to embrace the gorgeous woman before him. She could not help but to feel stupid for ever thinking that “love” was a pet name reserved only for her. It might have been jealousy or the ten beers she had just guzzled, but she was instantly in a panic to get away from the both of them. She sat awkwardly watching the game for a moment while Conor and what she assumed was an ex-girlfriend chatted about God-knows-what. She wanted to escape, and made the decision to get up and go to the bathroom.

  She was about to stand when Conor said, “Annika, I would like ya to meet Casey, my girlfriend.” Wait, did he just call me his girlfriend? Casey was shocked! They had been making love constantly and spending so much time together, but they had never really discussed their relationship status.

  She stood to meet Annika, feeling stupid for getting so upset by the use of her pet name on this gorgeous creature. It did not matter that this woman was a bombshell in ways that she could never be…Casey was Conor’s girlfriend. She felt whole, and completely relieved. After a short chat with Annika, the woman said her goodbyes and walked off back to her seat. When she had gone, Casey decided to dig for a little more information on the woman, now at ease with the fact that she was not a threat.

  “She seemed nice. How did you two meet?”

  Conor watched the game intently, waiting for the win but replied, “We met in college. I’ve known her for a long time.” He paused, taking an easy swig of his beer. “She’s a model now for some big agency in New York.” That’s no surprise, Casey thought.

  “Did you two ever…date?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Of course they had dated. Between Conor and Annika, Casey had never observed so much beauty.

  Conor informed her that they had been together the last year in college, but when she left for New York, they had broken it off.

  “Oh,” was all Casey could manage in response.

  Conor’s attention broke from the game, and he tried to read her face. A smile reached across his face and he said, “Are ya jealous, love?” That word seared again—it was no longer just hers. Casey had no idea how to respond, because she was both jealous and not at the same time.

  “She is just so beautiful, is all.”

  At that, Conor pulled her face close to his saying, “Ya’re beautiful. And ya’re my gal.” He kissed her passionately and turned back to watch the game. She left it at that, deciding to wait until after the game to address the whole “girlfriend” situation.

  When the Sox had taken the victory, and the crowd went nothing shy of ape-shit, Conor and Casey began to make their trek once again through the sea of fans. The energy radiating from Fenway was electric. People all around her were talking excitedly about this hit or that homerun. She loved being immersed in this kind of crowd…she had never before experienced this level of love for the game. She found herself having a new sense of pride and respect for Boston in general.

  “So my friends are playin’ at this pub near here. What do ya say?” Casey, eager to get the scoop on their relationship, agreed, and they made their way hand in hand up the street. When they were almost to a pub named O’Malleys, Conor unexpectedly pulled Casey into a dark alleyway, sandwiching her in between his rock-hard body and a brick wall. She could feel his erection, and wondered what it was that had gotten him so aroused—if it was the game, they were going to attend every one that season!

  “How did ya like being introduced as my girlfriend?” he asked, his lips mere inches from her face. “Ya like havin’ some sort of claim on me, don’t ya?”

  Casey, robbed of speech, and breath, for that matter, nodded.

  “Good, because ya are my gal and I don’t want ya to go forgettin’ it. Ya are mine.”

  If it wasn’t Conor saying this to her, she might have been frightened. The way he said it was so dominant, ferocious even. They were both turned on, their scent overpowering the dank smell of the alley. In any other circumstance, the dark, smelly alleyway might have put Casey off, but all she could feel in this moment was a divine hunger for her man.

  Conor pressed his lips against hers in wanting, trapping her between the wall and his throbbing shaft. He swiftly unbuttoned her jeans, and was dipping his fingers in and out of her slick flesh in no time. He kissed her neck as he did so, nibbling her flesh ever so often with his gorgeous white teeth. He worked her flesh until she moaned loudly, begging for him to replace his dripping fingers with his throbbing shaft. He refused, saying, “Come for me first. Come and let me feel how ya like bein’ mine.” That word, “mine,” sent her straight into ecstasy beyond what she thought possible.

  “Say it again,” she begged.

  He put his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his jagged breath, which tickled in the most delectable way. Penetrating her faster with his steady fingers, he said, “Ya. Are. Mine.”

  At that, she came hard, unable to hold back the scream rising within her chest. Casey was aware that people from the street were laughing at her scream, and more than likely watching the two of them, but she did not care. His act of possession over her would have made it impossible to get home without jumping all over him anyway.

  Conor removed his fingers from inside her jeans and brought them to his lips. He licked clean the sweet juice that he had just brought forth from her, a growl of pleasure escaping his lips.

  In mere seconds, Conor had his pants unbuttoned and his cock exposed, clearly unaffected by the cool evening air. He pulled her pants down around her ankles and picked her up, her back pressed firmly against the wall. Though she could not wrap her legs around his back, he had no trouble thrusting his gorgeous erection deep inside her.

  He pumped rough, and she loved every second of it. When he came, he held her with one muscled arm and steadied himself against the brick with the other. To keep from screaming himself, he dug his teeth into the soft flesh at her nape, biting down so hard she might have bled. A low snarl escaped his chest as he pierced her flesh. He was so animalistic, and it was somehow so enticing. When he was finished filling her with his seed, his entire body shuddered.

  When they had finished and pulled up their pants, Conor turned from feral animal to romantic man once again. Casey loved that there were two sides to him when it came to sex—she never knew which she was going to get. He was a regular Jekyll and Hyde, and there was no discerning which she preferred.

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her back. She cringed, hissing in a breath through her teeth.

  “What is it?” Conor asked.

  “My back stings,” she replied.

  Conor grabbed her hand and led her back into the light of the street. He turned her around and lifted her shirt.

  “Oh, shite. I’m so sorry, love. I was too rough with ya.” He pushed away a piece of hair to expose the area on her neck where he bit her. “Shite,” he said again.

  Appearing distraught by his ferocious sexual behavior, Conor ran his hand through his hair. He had been growing it out—a suggestion that escaped Casey’s lips a while back while they were watching a movie. He did not have red hair like so many other Irishmen, and she thought it would look amazing a little longer…she was right.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to assure him that he hadn’t hurt her. “That was the number one hottest moment of my life to date. You have no reason to be sorry.” When he began his search for truth in her eyes, she said, “Now come on. Let’s go have a beer and see your friends.” He smiled handsomely as she grabbed his hand and led him in the direction of O’Malleys. She would not let his worry for a few measly scrapes on her back, and one bite that came during the height of pleasure, ruin this amazing day. They were dating. She was falling in love. He possibly was, too.

  All of a sudden, Casey was immersed in a memory of Jace.

  They were together at one of their favorite dive bars, drinking excessively with a large group of friends. It was someone’s birthday, but Jace and Casey used it as an excuse to get
hammered like they so often did. Jace, eyes beet-red and glazed over, laid a sloppy kiss on Casey and told her for the first time that he loved her.

  “I love you, Case. I really do. I know you may not believe me, because I’m sorta drunk, but I love you,” he said, the words slurred and near unintelligible.

  “Whatever. Don’t tell me that unless you mean it, Jace Baker,” Casey replied, feeling not at all in the mood for his drunken bullshit tonight.

  “What, you don’t believe me? Fine, I will swear it in front of the entire bar.” Jace then somehow managed to get on top of the bar and get the attention of the crowded space. He swayed as he yelled, “Hello, everyone! My name is Jace Baker and this here is my girlfriend Casey. I just told Casey that I love her, but she doesn’t believe me. Now, do you think that if I didn’t really love her, I would get up here and make a gigantic ass of myself?”

  The crowd screamed “No!” loudly, so Jace went on.

  “Well, I bet that Casey is pretty embarrassed with me right now, so I am going to keep making an ass out of myself until she tells me she loves me, too.”

  Casey shook her head, shielding her eyes from the crowd and Jace as if her hand would magically make her invisible. He liked the attention he got from stunts like this, but she did not.

  “Casey, I love you. Do you love me, too? You better tell me or I am going to start singing to these fine folks.”

  At that, Casey grabbed his hand and pulled him down from the bar. “Okay, okay. Yes, Jace, I love you. Now will you stop embarrassing me?” He smiled and kissed her. The crowd had applauded.

  “Ya all right, love?” The sound of Conor’s voice brought her back to reality. She swallowed the memory and the sadness accompanying it. She felt like she was choking on a rock, but she refused to ruin what had been an otherwise perfect day.