Once Bitten: A Steamy Sexy Chance Romance (A O'Reilly Clan Novel Book 1)

by Daisy Allen

  In the circle of his embrace, as the city of Paris revolved around us, I felt in no rush to go anywhere.

  ***

  “In you get, easy.” Finn gripped my hand as I stepped into the bath he’d drawn for me.

  “Ohhhh, yeah.” The water engulfed me, soothing every sore cell as it sank into the almost scalding hot water.

  Finn sat on the edge of the bathtub running his fingers through the water and I smiled up appreciatively at him. The events of the last few days on top of the time change had wrung every last drop of energy from me, and he’d taken care of everything, calling the car, getting me up to the room, helping me undress and now was watching me as I soaked in the comforting hot bath.

  “Sorry I was such a, you know, blergh face.”

  Finn’s face scrunched up. “What is God’s name is a ‘blergh face’?”

  “It’s a scientific term for...you know, a face that’s blerghy!”

  “Oh. Informative.” He flicked his wet fingers at me. I poked my tongue out at him.

  “I just meant, I was all,” I made a limp puppet type gesture, “and you took care of everything. So, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, blergh face,” he leaned down and kissed my temple, and brushed the hair from my face. “Ok, I’m going to take a shower, and order up some food, how’s that sound? Or do you want to go out?”

  “No, staying in sounds good.”

  “Any preferences?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, ok, what?”

  “Large!”

  He laughed and shook his head, starting to unbutton his shirt which made a part of me underwater twitch awake.

  “A large what?”

  “I don’t care, just make it LARGE!”

  He continued to laugh as he walked out of the bathroom, yelling over his shoulder, “I knew you just wanted me for my body.”

  I swallowed the urge to tell him, it certainly helped sweeten the deal.

  ***

  “What is that smell and why isn’t it in my mouth?” I groaned as stepped out into my bedroom, the scent of something delicious filling my nostrils and making me salivate.

  “Ugh, I’ve never been so jealous of food since you came back into my life,” Finn replied pouting.

  “Oh my god!!!!” I fell on the bed laughing; there, on 1500 thread Egyptian cotton were two TV trays perfectly set up for a gourmet meal complete with increasingly large forks and napkin rings.

  A cart on the side of the bed was covered with metal cloches, barely able to contain the scent of the feasts within. The TV was set to a late night American talk show. It was the perfect night in.

  “Mademoiselle,” Finn said stiffly, a tea towel slung over his arm as he pulled the bed covers apart and helped me settle in, leaning against the bed head. “For our first course, we ‘ave for vous, fresh from ze garden, l’escargot!” He lifted the smallest cloche with a flourish and dropped it on the floor with a clang. “Er, oopsie, I am just a clumsee Americain, non?”

  He lifted the hot cast iron plate of the French delicacy onto my tray and I had to wipe the corners of my mouth with the napkin. It smelled buttery and garlicky and parsley-y, three of my favorite things. The only problem was how to get the meat from the shell and into my mouth. I poked at one with my fork and it rolled off the plate and onto the tray. I poked it again, chasing it around the tray with my knife and it plunged to a buttery death onto my blanket.

  I picked it up and dropped it like a hot stone back onto the cast iron plate, only to see Finn shaking with invisible laughter.

  “Help!” I pleaded.

  “Ah, oui, perhaps Mademoiselle would benefit from ze ‘elp of these,” and he pulled a set of tiny prongs from his pocket.

  “Finn! Why didn’t you give them to me before?” I was tempted to throw an escargot at him, if it weren’t for the way they were making me drunk with hunger.

  I popped the first de-shelled snail into my mouth, hissing as it scalded the insides of my cheeks. “Bloody hell,” I exclaimed without an ounce of daintiness. “Why does it taste so fucking good?” I asked.

  “Hmmmummmm,” Finn nodded, agreeing, his mouth full of bread dipped in the buttery garlicky runoffs of his own plate of snails and took a sip from his glass of wine.

  We sat in silence for the next few minutes, savoring our hot appetizer and I absentmindedly watched the show on TV, just enjoying the familiar voices and language. Finn seemed to be just as immersed in his food as I was. And I had to admit, it made me feel how perfect he was for me. A ‘foodie’ to the core, (or to the tummy and thighs), I couldn’t stand when people didn’t take time to really appreciate their food. I really was a greedy guts.

  I mopped up the last of my escargot sauce with the toasted baguette Finn had laid on my bread plate and sucked the butter off the bread in my mouth before letting it totally dissolve into a sweet, garlicky paste on my tongue and sighed, laying back against the headboard and rubbing my stomach.

  “Fini? You are finished, Mademoiselle? You are ready for the main course?”

  “If you insist...” I shrugged nonchalantly

  “Oh, please don’t let me force you, I can geeve eet to ze peasants.”

  “Give it here, garcon.” I pointed to my tray and he feigned fear as he lifted the larger metal lid from its plate.

  “What the...?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “Oui oui, c’est le Cheezburger!” He put the plate down in front of me proudly.

  “Cheeseburger?! Finn! This better not be from McDonald’s!” A cheeseburger! In Paris!

  He just grinned and leaned over and gave me a soft kiss, his lips sweet from the wine.”Just try it, sweetheart, I promise you, it’s like no cheeseburger you’ve ever had.”

  I was skeptical, but I must admit, the aroma from the chargrilled beef patty was sending messages to my brain to get ready to freak out.

  My fingers only just managed to fit around the burger and I took a good look at it; some sort of ketchup-mayonnaisey concoction smear on the bun, a limp leaf of lettuce, a thick slice of tomato, two slices of cheese that seemed speckled with something, and a thick beef patty, its edges brown from the grill, and what I hoped, was soft, juicy, rare inside.

  As I lifted it to my mouth and took a bite, I could feel Finn watching me.

  I put the burger down as I chewed it, taking stock of the different flavors dancing around my mouth and up my nose. I swallowed the last bit of bun sticking to my mouth.

  “Ok.” I stopped and wondered how to word it. “I can die now.”

  Finn’s face broke out into a grin and he punched the air, “I knew it. Best burger in Paris. The French can grill a beef patty.”

  “Yes, yes they can” I agreed, almost not wanting to take a second bite in case it wouldn’t live up to the promise of the first one. Oh, who am I kidding, I gobbled down that thing so fast, the drops of sauce that kept threatening to fall out of the bottom of the bun, never made it to land. It was so delicious.

  “Finn?” The wine and food mellowing me out and l loosening my muscles and tongue, “what made you buy that hotel in Dublin?”

  He looked startled, whether at me asking the question or the question itself, I didn’t know.

  “Well, um,” he stacked our empty burger plates up and put them on the cart by his side of the bed.

  “I told you I hid out there for about a year after Dad died.” I saw a flash of pain flicker across his face, just for a second, then disappear, but I knew the sadness stayed with him every day.

  “Yeah, I remember,” I said softly.

  “I got to know all of the staff really well, I mean, when I say I only talked to about five people for the entire year, I mean it, and they were those five people, Devin and Cathleen Healy, the owners, and some of the other staff. That hotel and the staff there, they saved my life, Kara. They gave me a sense of family when I felt mine had been ripped away from me.”

  I nodded silently, not wanting to interrupt his flow.

&nb
sp; “So once I emerged back into the world, I still returned several times a year, each time, it felt like coming home. But a few years ago, Devin had a serious stroke and was left quite severely handicapped. Cathleen just couldn’t handle it on her own, as well as take care of Devin, obviously. I found out through the bellman that a large chain were wanting to acquire it as part of their boutique hotel range. I knew then and there that no matter what I did, I couldn’t let that happen. They would suck the soul out of that place, Kara.” He shook his head at the thought and stared out the window, as if telling the story as it was written in the stars.

  “Any way, I flew home the next day, talked to the Brian, our trustee advisor, who said I could either withdraw my part of the inheritance left from Dad and then find some investors to help cough up the extra 30% I needed, or use the pooled family money to buy it. I didn’t want to risk any of mom’s or Heather’s inheritance, they had enough going on without worrying about dead beat Finn fucking everything up so bad they’d end up on the street. So I took out my share, turned on the charm on some deep pocketed old high school buddies, came back here and gave Devin and Cathleen an offer I hoped they couldn’t refuse. Been mine ever since.”He shrugged, as if it were nothing. “I spent about a year looking for a manager for the place before I found Patrick and Doris. They used to run a chain of BnB’s along the coast, knew the area in and out, but this was better for them, being settled in one spot, and frankly, they’re perfect. So passionate, so professional, if anyone loves that place more than me it would be them. It’s safe in their hands. I am so lucky to have found them.”

  I was riveted to his story and the matter of fact way he told it. The previous three days had shown me that Finn had natural business acumen, and he was smart, eloquent, logical, thoughtful.

  But this tale of him acquiring the hotel in Dublin was about his own passion, his own business, something that came from a personal need. I was so impressed by what he’d become.

  “But sometimes...” He continued, there was something in his voice, a soft wavering, an uncertainty, “I don’t know. I’m onto my third hotel, and now I’m starting work with Paul’s company, but I can’t help but wonder if Dad is looking down on me and thinking, ‘geez, who does he think he is? He can’t even get up from bed on time, and he wants to run multi million, billion dollar entities? He’s going to fuck up for sure’.” Finn dropped his head a little, as if lost in his own fear.

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying, that he would feel this way. I knew that his false bravado when we were growing up, was just that, false, a way to exude a sense of confidence to the world. But surely he could see what he’d grown into.

  “Finn,” I reached out for his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. “You are...amazing.” He looked up at me sharply, as if surprised at what I’d said. “You are, you just are. I mean, you’re your Dad’s son for sure. You have grown into such a poised, brilliant, amazing man. Businessman, yes, but just a wonderful man, in general. I might’ve been head over heels with that vampire douche 15 years ago? But he has nothing on you.

  And your Dad is probably beaming down so freakin’ proud of you right now, that that blonde hair of his is just stickin’ right up, all over the place, like it used to do when he’d dry it with the towel after getting out of the pool.”

  Finn let out a small laugh, “oh yeah, I forgot about that. So hilarious, drove no hair out of place Mom bloody bonkers.”

  We giggled softly at the memory of the great man he was. Then I felt a soft squeeze of my hand.

  “You really think he’d be proud?”

  “Out of his fucking mind, proud, Finn. I promise you. About as proud of you as I am.” I stared into his eyes and hoped he could see that he was the centre of everything that mattered to me in that moment.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Want dessert?”

  “Bloody time! I thought I was going to have to threaten to cut your tip.”

  “A selection of French pâtisseries et viennoiseries for Mademoiselle Greedy Guts!”He laid out a giant try with more than 15 miniature versions of different French cakes, tarts and pastries on the bed in front of us, and handed me an espresso.

  “Damn. I’m glad I didn’t die after the burger before, or else I would’ve missed this.” I stared out at the array of sweets in awe, not wanting to eat them, they were so beautiful.

  “You won’t want to miss the next course either.”

  “Oh my god, more?? What is it?”

  Finn’s eyes sparkled as he scooped up a tuft of whipped cream off a cake and smeared it against my neck. “You,” he answered my question, before licking the cream off my neck, making me want to skip the cakes altogether.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new lii-iiife, foo-oo-ooor me...” I sang as I held my scarf up over my head, watching it catch the wind and making it dance.

  “And I’m feelin’ good...” Finn finished and took his eyes off the road for a moment to grin at me.

  We were barreling down the highway in a convertible Finn had made appear out of nowhere, (I’m guessing it had something to do with the whispering to the concierge that morning as we came back from a walk along the Seine and a quick window shop).

  After my morning shower after we got back from our walk, Finn had given me five minutes to get dressed and pack an overnight bag. “Faster woman, faster! You won’t be needing too many clothes!” Finn rushed me as he watched me throw dress after dress into a small carry on.

  “But I don’t know what to bring if you don’t tell me where we’re going!” I yelled as I ran around, his excitement rubbing off on me.

  “And....stop! Let’s go, France doesn’t wait for slow packers!” He grabbed my hand and bag and pulled me out the door, giving me just enough time to pocket my phone and purse.

  “Monsieur O’Reilly, Mademoiselle Sinclair, your car is ready,” the doorman told us and pointed to the convertible waiting in front to the hotel.

  “Thank you, Philippe.” Finn said politely, tucking a generous tip into his pocket.

  An hour later, he still hadn’t told me where we were going, and I couldn’t tell from the road signs that whizzed by too fast for me to read. But I couldn’t care less.

  The old school songs radio station was turned up high and we sang along to songs we’d forgotten that we even knew. And I felt more carefree and content than I could ever remember.

  “Hey, you’re not such a bad singer,” I admitted to Finn.

  “Well, I was a rockstar in a former life, but, you know, the groupies, the groupies just became too much. I wanted them to love me for me, not my smooth dulcet tones and sexy white man dancing.” He said soberly.

  “Oooh, and here I thought you wanted to me love you for your big cock.”

  “Oh my, Ms Kara, you do have such a potty mouth.”

  “You liked that last night!”

  He cocked his eyebrow at me, and I couldn’t help but let out a whoop of laughter, seemingly for no reason.

  “What was that for?”

  “No reason; I’m just happy,” I shrugged, and turned my attention to the fields of canola blossoms stretched out for miles in front of us.

  “Hey,” Finn said, squeezing my hand.

  I turned back to face him.

  “Me too.”

  ***

  Two hours and two heads resembling birds’ nests later, he exited off the highway.

  “Lyon.” I read off the sign, craning my neck as he sped past. “Oh my god! We’re going to Lyon?” Lyon, as every French guidebook had told me, was the gastronomic belly of the country, which was saying something in France.

  Finn grinned and nodded.

  “Wheeee!!! Lyon! Wow!” I whooped, my excitement level increasing to an almost painful peak. “It’s so close to Paris?”

  “About three hours I’d say, we’re almost there. And I have a surprise for you.”

  I bit ba
ck the urge to whoop again, in case Finn went deaf. I opted instead to lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

  “Finn?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?

  “You’re a bit of ok.”

  He sighed softly and draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close to his side, so close I felt like we were one.

  As I snuggled against his side, I wondered how much it was going to hurt when I’d have to tear myself apart from him.

  ***

  Finn turned into a long dirt road. It seemed familiar even though, of course, I’d never been there before. The road was lined by tall birch trees, casting shadows on the car as we drove passed them, and end at the drive way stood a stunning sandstone walled chateau. I suddenly knew why it seemed familiar, it felt just like Finn’s hotel in Ireland.

  “Finn,” I turned to him as he turned off the ignition, “is this…?”

  He just winked and jumped out of the car, coming over to my side to open the door for me as I sat there, open mouthed, staring up at the beautiful architecture.

  “Come on then. You don’t want the Lyonnais to eat all your lunch do you?”

  That got me up and I jumped out, enjoying the sound of the gravel under my boots.

  Finn led me through the entrance, where he’d renovated it to open into a stunning foyer, small but filled with intricate decadent details, with a feel like the one in hotel but somehow, still quintessentially French.

  “Boss in the house!” Finn called out, surprising me with his out of character preening.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m comi-...wait, OH MY GOD! KARA SINCLAIR?!”

  I turned and became face to face with the only person in the world I’d ever called my best friend.

  “HEATHER?!”

  We ran toward each other, dropping bags and files and whatever was in our hands. Stopping inches apart, we clasped each others’ fingers, staring in amazement as reach other for a moment, before falling into a long, tight embrace. I felt the tears wet my face, and I didn’t care, I laughed and cried for the loss and the reunion of my dear friend all at once.

  “Oh my god, Kara!” she sobbed, pulling away from me, I reached up to brush the tears from her cheeks.