This Life 1

by Cara Dee

  I turned my head to muffle my amusement in Emilia’s hair.

  Someone finally came over with the microphone, and I braced myself to be roasted.

  “Is this gonna hurt you?” Emilia asked. By the look in her eyes, I could tell she hoped it would.

  “Probably,” I chuckled. “And you’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “Oh, I am. Technically.”

  Great.

  The dessert chatter died down, and everyone gave my brother a platform to be a dick to me.

  “As the best man and older brother of the groom, it’s my honor and my job to make Finn suffer,” he said, much to everyone’s sadistic pleasure. What fucking bitches we had in our family. Where was the love? “I can go on for hours about the hell he’s raised since we were kids, but since it’s my turn to sit where he’s sitting in a month, I’m going to keep this brief. And hopefully, he’ll remember I spared his ass and limited the digs to the last few months.”

  I merely smirked, ’cause I was making no fucking promises.

  “Who can forget,” Patrick went on, “how Finnegan couldn’t even score a date with Emilia on his own. He needed Kellan there to lay the groundwork by pretending to be someone else—an unbiased source, if you will.” Oh, that motherfucker was going down. “So while Kellan was convincing Emilia to let Finn take her to dinner, my brother was at his house removing every trace of Kellan. Photos came down from the walls, a toothbrush vanished from the guest bath, and then he was shipped all the way to Chicago so Emilia wouldn’t figure out they were all but brothers.”

  He wasn’t sparing me for shit. He was, however, sparing Emilia, and for that I was grateful. She was giggling up a storm next to me, and the guests were enjoying the storytelling.

  “Of course, seeing as Kellan is sitting right here…” Patrick gave Kellan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Emilia eventually learned the truth, and the wrath of this chick—let me tell you, she annihilated them both.”

  “Yeah, she did!” my mother hollered.

  I shook my head at the hate and pressed another kiss to Emilia’s hair. She was having fun, way too much fun.

  “I like this version of the story way better,” she giggled.

  I pinched her thigh.

  “My boy Kellan escaped with scratches and bruised balls,” Patrick said with a grin, “and Finnegan spent five days in the doghouse. Man, was he a miserable fuck without her.”

  Kellan leaned back, speaking behind Patrick. “Payback in a month?”

  I bumped his fist. “Of fucking course, mate.”

  Patrick wasn’t done. “He spent his days watching Spanish soap operas, binging on Twinkies, and writing love letters to Emilia.” He raised his glass and soaked up the laughter all around. “And somewhere in that hole he’d dug himself, he realized he was never going to find another girl like Emilia. He’d met his match, and he did everything to win her back.” He turned his smile to Emilia next. “Watching you two fall in love has been a gift, guys. I have no doubt you’ll keep his ass in check, sweetheart, just like he’ll drive you crazy the way I think you secretly like it. To Finnegan and Emilia, sláinte mhaith!”

  “Sláinte!”

  Well, fuck. Did he really have to go for the kill at the end? Amusement and annoyance mingled with the love I had for my brother, which sort of summed it up pretty well. If he wasn’t cracking me up, he was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I rose from my seat and hugged him. “I love you, you ugly brute.”

  “Love you too, kid.” He clapped me on the back and left a loud smooch on my cheek. “Away wit’chu, I wanna hug my sister-in-law.”

  I stepped to the side, and he wrapped my wife in a bear hug. Her eyes had welled up at some point, though now he was drawing giggles from her. He had that effect.

  Chapter 31

  Finnegan O’Shea

  With all the speeches out of the way, I dragged Alec up on the stage, mostly to play a couple songs for my wife, and now partly to get him away from the champagne. It was cute when he snuck his first glass and thought no one was watching. Now he was hiccupping.

  “Are you sure you can play, cub?” I chuckled.

  “Sh’t’up, ’m Irish, boss.” He grinned goofily and unpacked his violin and guitar from the cases. “Only had me one glass, swear.”

  I gripped his chin and stared him down. “What do you swear on, son?”

  He blinked. “Me mum’s diet?”

  I laughed and gave his cheek a playful smack. “Just don’t mess up the tunes too much. I’m collecting brownie points here.”

  The DJ killed the music as I sat down behind the piano.

  “What whistle do you want for the other song, boss?” Alec held up my case of tin whistles.

  “Give me the Clarke.”

  “C or D?”

  I snatched up the latter from him and set it atop the piano. Then I adjusted the microphone.

  “Hey!” Alec loved the spotlight more than I did, and he handled the talkin’. “Finn’s gonna serenade me future wife with two songs we’ve been pact—practishing. He got into Emilia’s Spotimefy—Spotify—to see what songs she liked.”

  I hung my head, chuckled, and pinched the bridge of my nose. That fucking kid. He wasn’t supposed to tell them that last part.

  “Have you been stickin’ to Coke, boy?” John asked, amused.

  “It’s rude to interrupt, Dad!” Alec complained.

  “All right, you lush.” I tugged on his back pocket until he fell into his chair. “What Alec said,” I spoke into my mic, “I’m going to serenade his next wife. So when I fuck up, she can look back on today and give me another shot.”

  “That’s forward-thinking, mate!” I heard Colm holler from somewhere.

  “Got into my Spotify how?” Well, that was Emilia, and evidently, I was already fucking up.

  It had been way back when our devices had been synced. She’d had a whole playlist with just this song, so I figured it was because she liked it. It helped that it was a romantic song. More than that, it was a song I could foresee playing for her again, when I’d really fucked up. In the words of some British chick magnet named Calum Scott, “You Are the Reason.”

  Instead of answering her, I eased into the slow song, my fingers traveling across the keys. I heard Emilia’s soft “oh” when she realized what song it was.

  Some of the guests chose to dance, some of them watched from their tables, and some—Emilia included—gathered closer. She stood with my mother and Luna, the two whispering back and forth while the princess never looked away from me.

  Right in this moment, it was easy to picture our life together. We were young and in love, I sang of shaking hands, the mountains I’d climb for her, racing minds, and how hopeless I was for her, and everything was perfect. A moment to remember. A moment to remind her of one day.

  Alec, our favorite little drunk, didn’t mess up even once. He’d been playing the violin since he was four and could probably do it in his sleep.

  The second and last song was going to be interesting. He’d chosen it, his favorite Declan Galbraith tune, and he’d both sing and play the guitar while I would give Emilia another reason to call me her whistler.

  I played the last notes before Alec finished the song, and we were met by applause and awwwing women. Those who’d been married twenty to thirty years took the opportunity to ask their men why they never did anything like that. Score.

  “You ready, cub?” I turned away from the piano a bit, one leg on each side of the bench, and picked up my whistle.

  “Yeah, I’m not nervous at all, boss.” He swallowed hard and got seated with his guitar, and Patrick walked up to lower his mic for him.

  “Look at it this way, champ,” my brother told him. “Chances are one of the preteens here tonight is your actual next wife. You’ll have them lining up for you.”

  “I’ve got me eyes on her already.” Alec regained his confidence and shot Emilia a wink.

  I’d give him unt
il he hit puberty. Then those jokes would be less funny.

  For now, I was happy to let him flirt with my blushing bride and turn our guests into devoted fans. ’Cause he had the voice of a fucking angel, which was fitting considering the title of the song. I remembered being praised for my own singing voice as a kid, and then I turned thirteen and everything went to shite.

  Sensing that Alec was still nervous, I counted him in, my foot tapping lightly in his field of vision, and I was ready to play the intro twice in case he missed his cue.

  I’d worried for nothing in the end, and it took him approximately twenty seconds to steal the show. He sang with his eyes closed to shut everyone out, and I could tell he had practiced on his guitar at home. Watching him almost made me miss my own cue to the next chorus, and I shook my head at myself and played alongside him.

  He hit the wrong chord in the chorus, though I doubted anyone else noticed. It was just as his voice reached the high notes, sending an epidemic of goose bumps through the ballroom. Because it couldn’t have been only me.

  Once it was over, he opened his eyes and gave me the biggest grin, and I nodded for him to take a bow and collect the cheers. Then I stood up, and he closed the distance and hugged me tightly.

  “I’m so proud of you, cub.” I ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head before he was off to soak up the attention.

  Emilia was waiting for me as I stepped off the stage, and she snaked her arms around my middle. “Whistler…?” She was biting her lip and staring at me strangely, her cheeks flushed and eyes a shade darker.

  “Princess.” I lifted a brow, unsure of how to read her.

  She cleared her throat. “I have a bunch of stuff going on inside me right now that I can’t really describe. The playing, seeing how you are with Alec—in short, is it too soon for you to take me home?”

  Ah, fucking victory. I quirked a grin and rubbed my nose to hers. “I can sneak you out in less than a minute if you want.”

  “If I take off my heels, I can run,” she replied.

  I let out a laugh and hugged her to me. “You go. I’m gonna let Pop know, and then I’ll meet up with you at the elevators.”

  “Just like that?” Now she hesitated. “Isn’t it rude—”

  I cut her off with a kiss, because fuck rude. We were newlyweds. Sneaking out was practically an unwritten rule.

  “Go. Now.” I smacked her on the ass.

  She went.

  I watched her disappear between the tables and out the doors, then walked over to where Pop was expecting me. He was doing shots with Ian.

  “Oh—get him one,” Ian said quietly.

  “You’re leaving us.” Pop smirked knowingly and poured a third glass. “I’m a little surprised you stayed this long.”

  “That makes two of us.” I accepted the glass and threw it back. “Fuck,” I coughed. Was this some of Ian’s homemade shit? My throat was on fire. “I wanted an update—okay, that’s fucking vile. The aftertaste is—”

  “Not why one drinks it.” Ian winked and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll feel the effects of it soon.”

  Wonderful. I slid my gaze to Pop and cocked a brow.

  “Everything’s good, son. As Patrick sometimes says, calm your tits. You can go make us some grandbabies.”

  Aw, my father was smashed. He was a funny drunk.

  “No one will bother you until Monday at ten thirty,” Ian promised. “We’ll be there to pick you up for brunch with the family. When’s your flight?”

  “At six,” I replied. “All right, brunch. We’ll be there.”

  Pop wagged a wobbly finger at me. “Does your uncle know you’re grooming Alec?”

  I chuckled at his drunk ass and leaned over the table to smack a smooch on his forehead. “Tell Ma I love her, and call if there’s an emergency.”

  A couple associates wanted to talk on my way out, so I said I was just going to the bathroom, and then I sidled up to Emilia and two Dubliners by the elevators. Colm had only had a couple beers, and Conn was stone-cold sober.

  I’d make it up to him soon.

  “What’s this?” I gestured at the wrapped gift in Emilia’s hands, and I took it from her to carry it. It was heavy and solid and felt like a gigantic book.

  “Luna saw me leaving and said we wouldn’t wanna wait to open her gift.”

  “Oh, really.” We stepped into the elevator, and I tore at the wrapping. “What the fresh fuck.” It was a book.

  Colm and Conn started laughing.

  It was a book on sex positions.

  “Oh my God,” Emilia guffawed. “Baby, we have to bring that on our honeymoon.”

  I side-eyed her and smiled, warmth spreading in my chest. And everywhere. It was the first time she’d called me that—okay, but the warmth was more of a liquid heat, and it tingled weirdly. I cleared my throat and loosened my tie. What the fuck had been in that shot?

  When the elevator stopped, I draped an arm around Emilia’s shoulders and ushered her out and through the large lobby. A handful of our guys were spread out, all of them alert. Our car was already pulled up, and Colm and Conn took it from there. The driver that’d taken us from the church to the hotel handed over the keys and said something to them that I couldn’t hear.

  In the meantime, I became acutely aware of Emilia being tucked so close to me.

  Colm opened the door for us, and I clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hit that mute button, mate.”

  He smirked and inclined his head.

  On the seats by the partition—that I made sure was closed—was a stack of Styrofoam boxes. Bless my mother, there would be leftovers and cake later.

  The filthy fuck book ended up next to the boxes, and I took my seat with Emilia. We were going to take this slowly; I wasn’t gonna maul her and act like a teenager. Her hand came to my chest, and she pressed a soft kiss to my neck, whispering that she’d had an amazing time tonight. I agreed, though I was finding it difficult to form words. The heat kept spreading wherever she touched me, and my heart rate was already spiking.

  I was gonna kill Ian.

  My gaze flicked to her cleavage, to her exposed shoulders and arms, to her leg and how it was crossed sexily over the other under her wedding dress.

  “Are you okay?” She nuzzled my jaw, which made it impossible to focus on the concern in her voice. Was she seducing me or just being affectionate because we’d gotten married today? I couldn’t fucking tell.

  I swallowed and unbuttoned the top button in my dress shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s kinda hot, innit?”

  “Feels fine to me. But you’re in a suit,” she offered. “My dress is thinner, and I’m bare up here now.”

  I hadn’t noticed…

  My brain was suddenly slammed with images of her naked body writhing underneath me. Tonight there would be nothing holding me back, and I wasn’t about to remind her that she wasn’t a hundred percent safe yet with her dumbass birth control. She’d said it would be up to six weeks, a milestone we hadn’t crossed yet.

  Those thoughts were pushing slow and steady out the window, and I cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply. The thirst for her was in-fucking-sane. I wanted my mouth and tongue on every inch of her sweet body, I wanted to lick and suck and watch the shivers run through her, I wanted to fuck her into next week.

  She was taken off guard by the force of my kiss but quickly caught on and pressed herself up against me.

  “I need something.” Even I reacted to the urgency in my voice. “Fuck.” I slid my hand up her thigh and swept my tongue into her mouth—I paused momentarily. “What’s this?” There was a strap of something high up on her thigh.

  Emilia flushed, her breathing unsteady. “My garter? We, um, left before we could throw it—and the bouquet.”

  Nothing of hers would be thrown anywhere. And fuck slow, I had to get a look. Before I knew what I was doing, my knees hit the floor of the car, and I was inching between her legs.

  She cursed and white-knuckled
the black leather seats.

  I touched her teasingly to take in her reactions. My fingers ghosted along her calves under the dress.

  “Lift your dress for me, Emilia,” I ordered softly.

  She swallowed hard and hiked up the layers of lace and silk, revealing soft, smooth, flawless skin. My cock grew thicker and harder in my pants, and I kneaded her thighs unhurriedly, letting the desire course through me and take over.

  A light blue scrap of lace with little ribbons on it came into view, and I had to stifle a groan.

  Hooking my fingers where her knees bent, I pulled her closer to the edge of the seat. I dipped down and began leaving a trail of openmouthed kisses along her thigh. Emilia gasped when I reached the bridal garter, and I was nothing if not a traditional man. I removed it slowly with my teeth until it slipped down her calf. Then I was back to kissing her thighs, my hands pushing up the dress farther until I saw the sheer thong she was wearing.

  I didn’t give it a second thought. Parting her legs farther, I pressed my lips to her pussy and sucked on her sweet flesh through the fabric. Emilia gasped again and exhaled around a moan.

  Our time was limited, and it became my excuse to get a quick fix. Pushing aside the thong, I ate her beautiful little cunt in greedy strokes of my tongue. She whimpered and squirmed against me, her fingers finding their grip in my hair. I wrapped my lips around her clit and flicked my tongue over it, around in circles, pressing down on it.

  With two fingers curling inside her, I had her crying out her orgasm moments later.

  The one piece of advice that’d stuck with me from my teenage years when my parents gave me the mandatory sex talk was something Pop had mentioned offhandedly. The bedroom was the last place to be arrogant, so I wasn’t gonna pretend to be an expert. I was going to get off no matter what; Emilia needed more.

  It was time to break out the sex toys.

  Emilia blushed, one part champagne and one part embarrassment, when she showed me the box in the drawer of her nightstand. To be honest, I’d expected some shit I’d seen in porn. These toys were nothing like it.