Irish Kiss: A Second Chance, Age Taboo Romance (An Irish Kiss Novel Book 1)

by Sienna Blake

  I had to leave.

  I had a family to take care of.

  I’d only keep hurting Saoirse if I stayed.

  “It should have been you. I should have given my virginity to you.”

  I winced at the memory before shoving it away. The best thing I could do for her was to leave her alone. To let her get over me. To let her grow up.

  I forced myself into the truck, slamming the door behind me, trying to ignore the fact that the wrong woman was sitting in my passenger seat. I turned the truck on and the radio blared to life, the familiar twangs of The Dubliners filling the cab.

  Saoirse’s favourite band.

  Her favourite song.

  She was everywhere. Even when she was gone.

  “What is this shit?” Ava turned the radio knob, cutting off the music, changing it to that pop channel she liked. I almost yelled at her for it. I stopped myself before a word left my mouth.

  I had to get used to pop now. Pop was my life.

  On the way out of town, we passed the café where Saoirse and I had breakfast every morning. I saw us in that booth near the window, laughing, talking, teasing each other. I saw her sitting there as clear as the road in front of me.

  Then I blinked and the image was gone, replaced by an elderly couple sitting in the booth.

  I forced myself to focus back on the road. With every beat of my heart the sinking feeling grew.

  Turn back.

  Turn back.

  You’re making a mistake.

  But I couldn’t.

  There was an even smaller soul growing inside of Ava’s stomach who needed me even more than Saoirse did. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. It didn’t make it any easier. Or any less painful.

  I could not be like my father.

  I would not be like my father.

  I had a responsibility. I had to do what was right, even if it killed me.

  Perhaps there was a part of me that was terrified of what might happen if I stayed. If I chose Saoirse over Ava.

  “I love you, Diarmuid.”

  I swallowed hard.

  I could never love her like that. Not now. She was a child.

  But she wouldn’t always be.

  And what could be in the future for Saoirse and me…it loomed so fierce and large that it threatened to consume me.

  Snatches of my mother’s voice and the scent of roses washed over me. Before the black hole of her loss sucked any happiness away.

  I didn’t know if I could survive loving someone that much again.

  So I drove away from my soul family for the sake of another.

  46

  ____________

  Saoirse

  Now—Limerick, Ireland

  For the first time, I was thankful for my da’s absence when I arrived home. He wasn’t around to ask me what was wrong. I didn’t have to lie to him.

  I slammed the door behind me, a new lock magically having been installed. He must have been home at some point. I ran up to my room and flung myself onto my bed, kicking off my shoes and burying my face into the pillow.

  You’re too young.

  Diarmuid’s words echoed in my head.

  Damn him.

  Damn him for kissing me like that, then pushing me away.

  He rejected me again.

  No, I saw how he looked at me.

  I felt the way he kissed me, like he was drowning and I was air.

  He felt what I felt, I know he did.

  I wouldn’t let him push me away again.

  I rolled over and grabbed my mobile out of my bag. There were already three missed calls from Diarmuid and a message.

  Diarmuid: Just tell me you got home safely. Please.

  My heart tugged. I wrote out several texts, deleting them all until I settled on something simple. Noncommittal.

  Me: I’m fine.

  Diarmuid: I’m sorry for what happened earlier.

  Anger surged through me. He was still beating himself up about a sin that was all in his head. I stabbed out my reply.

  Me: I’m not.

  Diarmuid: It was wrong of me.

  Me: The only thing wrong is you denying how you feel. I want you, Diarmuid. And you want me.

  Diarmuid: You’re just a child. It would be wrong of me.

  Screw him. I’d show him child.

  Me: I get wet thinking about you. I’m wet now.

  Diarmuid: Jesus. Selkie.

  Me: I’m playing with my pussy, running my finger through my wetness, imagining it’s you.

  Diarmuid: Stop. Please.

  Me: Tell me I can cum and I will. Just for you.

  Diarmuid: Fuck.

  Me: Tell me, are these the words of a child?

  I gripped my phone with my left hand, waiting for his response, my other working furiously in my panties. Frustration tumbled around, sharpening the need coursing through my body. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to kiss him until we both ran out of air.

  I came, my body jerking as the orgasm crashed through me.

  But he never replied.

  47

  ____________

  Diarmuid

  I get wet thinking about you. I’m wet now.

  Dear God.

  I lay on my back staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, my sheets twisted around my legs, Saoirse’s messages burning a hole in my brain.

  After she’d sent them to me, I’d oscillated between wanting to tear over to her house and throwing my phone out the window.

  My skin itched. My joints ached, my muscles burned as if I had a fever.

  Tell me I can come, Diarmuid, and I will.

  I couldn’t sleep, lying in my bed, smelling her scent of roses on my sheets and her tropical shampoo on my pillow, remembering waking up beside her, feeling that this king-sized bed was too big without her warmth.

  I groaned and flung my arm over my eyes, praying for unconsciousness. But all I saw on the backs of my eyes was her.

  I’m playing with my pussy, running my finger through my wetness, imagining it’s you.

  Need surged through my body. I needed her. Wanted her with a fury that terrified me. My willpower was ebbing with every breath I took, and it became easier and easier to justify giving in.

  I’d be good for her. I cared about her, unlike that fucker who put her on the back of his bike without a helmet, who just wanted to get into her pants. My heart was already tangled with hers, our souls already family.

  She’s seventeen, Diarmuid. You’ve known her since she was thirteen.

  She was going to ruin me. And in turn, I would ruin her.

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  Two a.m. Two a.m. and I couldn’t sleep.

  I rang the only person I knew who’d be up at this ungodly hour.

  Danny picked up and his familiar brogue sounded over the phone, the strains of a melancholy guitar instrumental in the background. And…was that a violin, too?

  “What the fuck’s wrong?”

  I snorted. “Hello to you too, fucker.”

  “It’s two in the morning.”

  “And you’re wide awake.” I cleared my throat. “What’s that you’ve got playing in the background?” That was me, Mr Avoidance.

  Danny let out a snort. “Alright, asshole. We’ll do it your way. It’s something I’ve been working on lately.”

  “It that a violin as well?”

  “Well done, D, it is a violin.”

  “That’s new. I thought you said, and I quote ‘violins are for pansies’.”

  “Shite, you actually listen to me when I talk about music.”

  “Only sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well…maybe I changed my mind about violins.” I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

  I hummed under my breath as I listened to the song end, the strains ebbing away until they were gone. “It sounds almost cheerful. Well, compared to the suicide earporn you usually listen to.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I hear
d shuffling from his end, like he was moving around on his bed. “So, what’s the craic?”

  Nope, still avoiding. “You heard from Dex?”

  Danny paused. Then he spoke, seemingly okay to let me keep talking shit. “Not since his shotgun wedding to Miss Thang. You?”

  A few chords of a guitar strummed in the background. That was Danny. Half his mind was always on his music, even when he was talking to you.

  “Saw him the other day. Popped into town the other week. He’s invited me to his next match here in Limerick. I got a spare ticket. You should come.”

  Danny was not the “date” that Declan had in mind for me when he gave me the spare ticket. He’d probably rib me about being gay for a decade at least. Still, it’d be good to get the boys back together. Fuck, I hadn’t realised I missed these two assholes as much as I did until right now.

  “When is it?”

  “Friday night in two weeks.”

  Danny let out a sigh. “Can’t. Sorry. I’m teaching.”

  “Yeah, of course. Right. Semester’s back on, yeah?” Danny had been working part-time at the music college in Dublin for the past few months. “Any student prodigies this year?”

  I heard a twang, an off-key note, and frowned. Danny never missed a note.

  “That was a shitty chord. You losing your musical touch or what?” I teased.

  “When was the last fight of Dex’s you went to?” Danny said, ignoring my question.

  Looked like I wasn’t the only one in avoidance mode.

  I shifted on my bed, thinking. “Shit, not since he won his first title ages ago.”

  God, we were all kids back then. I used to go to almost all his fights. I’d been so proud of Dex, making something of himself, channelling all that rage into something positive. Then life seemed to get in the way. Actually, Ava got in the way. She hated the fights and I stopped going just to avoid fighting with her.

  I promised myself then and there I’d make more of an effort with these two guys. They meant so much to me.

  Danny was silent on the other end of the phone. “I wish I had been at that fight with you guys.”

  My throat closed up when I remembered what had happened to him that year. “You had other things to deal with, Danny,” I said softly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  Danny cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, you didn’t fucking ring me at two in the morning to talk about my sob story. Spill it, bro. What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

  Avoidance time was over now.

  I rubbed my face, wondering how damned I would become if I said it out loud. I wanted to bury this secret so deep inside of me that no one would ever find out, not even God. I bet He Himself had some things to say to me about it.

  Truth was, I wanted to scream Saoirse’s name out loud while I pounded into her, claiming her, consuming her, making her mine, her body as well as her heart and soul.

  Jesus, I was a dirty fucker. She was seventeen. Over a decade younger than me.

  It was so wrong.

  How could something so wrong feel so right?

  “Diarmuid, did your dick fall asleep? Spit it out.”

  “There’s a girl…” Fuck, not a girl. “A woman.”

  Danny snorted. “About fucking time. That Ava was a waste of fucking space if there ever was one.”

  I shut my eyes and breathed through my teeth to keep from yelling. “You’re telling me you don’t like Ava.”

  “Wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire.”

  “Jesus Christ. And you didn’t think to tell me this when I told you I was marrying her?”

  “Mate, you only married her because she was supposedly having your baby.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m just saying, did you ever see this pregnancy test?”

  I did. She showed me the doctor’s pregnancy test result. “Ava wouldn’t lie about a baby.”

  Danny snorted. “That’s your problem, you think everyone else is as moral as you.”

  Ava was not an argument I wanted to get into.

  I let out a noise of frustration. “Motherfucker. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are, asshole.”

  “Then don’t keep shit like that from me again.”

  “As if you’d have listened to me if I’d told you I didn’t like the bitch, you stubborn bastard.”

  “I would have listened,” I grumbled. I would have done what I was going to do anyway, but I would have at least listened.

  Danny let out a snort. “So, this girl…?”

  Saoirse Quinn, I wanted to scream.

  And she wasn’t a girl.

  “Do you remember about three years ago I had this genius kid assigned to me?”

  “Saoirse Quinn.”

  Hearing her name coming easily off my best friend’s lips made me want to punch him. Jesus, I was getting possessive over her fucking name.

  “How could I forget her?” Danny let out a laugh. “You spoke about her all the time, like she was your own flesh and blood.”

  I gritted my teeth against that “flesh and blood” reference. She may not have been my flesh and blood, but she was in it now.

  “She’s been reassigned to me again. She’s seventeen but God, she doesn’t look it…”

  There was a long pause on the other end. I could practically hear the light flicking on in Danny’s head.

  “Oh shit,” he spat out.

  Oh shit, indeed.

  “Diarmuid, that’s—”

  “I know.

  “She’s—”

  “I fucking know,” I growled.

  Danny let out a string of curses. “Jesus, Diarmuid. Seventeen-year-old pussy might be tight as fuck, but it ain’t worth jail time.”

  “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that, man, or I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

  “Oh…shit.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my breath out between my teeth. I had called Danny wanting to talk, wanting his help. He did not deserve me yelling obscenities at him.

  “You’re in love with her.”

  My eyes snapped open. What the hell did he just say?

  “I am not in—”

  “Man, you’re so far gone you don’t even realise it.”

  “I. Am—”

  “You asked me not to keep shit from you anymore. You said you’d listen when I talked.”

  Danny’s words hit me like a slap to my face. I sat there stunned, my skin tingling with pins and needles.

  “You’re in love with her. You’re so far gone you don’t even realise it.”

  Jesus, fuck. Was he right? Was I in love with Saoirse?

  We’re soul family.

  I love you, too.

  No. I shook my head even though Danny couldn’t see me. I couldn’t be in love with Saoirse Quinn. I was supposed to be her mentor, her guiding light. I had watched her grow up. I saw her going through puberty. I had looked after her when she’d been thirteen.

  You have my skin. And I have yours.

  What if I’d just been waiting for her to grow up?

  “I want someone I shouldn’t want, too.” Danny’s voice was so quiet, I almost missed it.

  I sat up. “You what?”

  “You heard me.”

  I had. I just couldn’t believe it. For as long as I’d known Danny, he’d been a slave to his music, married to his guitar. He rarely spoke about a woman that he was interested in.

  Scratch that. He never spoke about women. Never.

  Sure, he fucked women, but only ever strangers. No strings attached. Never anyone he knew. Especially not from the music scene, which could complicate his life.

  Women were “distractions from my art”, he said. All they did was want to take up all his time, demanding his energy and efforts.

  This woman must be something special if he was admitting he wanted her.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Don’t judge.”

  I s
norted. “Do I ever?”

  “No.” He let out a sigh. “One of my students.”

  I let his words sink into my skin. “Jesus Christ.”

  “I know.”

  “You could be fired.”

  “So could you, you fucker.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Danny was right. Even after Saoirse turned eighteen, she’d still be one of my assignments, and we’d still be almost a decade apart in age.

  I wasn’t allowed to touch her.

  My skin burned at the thought. How unfair was life. How cruel. The only woman I’d wanted in years and she was the one woman I was not allowed to have.

  “So…” I said into the phone.

  “So,” Danny replied, because what else could he say?

  “What are you going to do about it?” I asked him. Maybe he’d have a plan I could follow.

  He let out a snort. “Not what I want to, obviously.” Then he sighed, and his voice turned bitter and hard. “The only thing I can think to do is to be cruel to her so she never knows that I want her.”

  I could never be intentionally cruel to Saoirse.

  But I guess that was the difference between Danny and me.

  But perhaps my being kind to Saoirse was just another form of cruelty. A more painful one.

  48

  ____________

  Saoirse

  I didn’t hear from Diarmuid all week.

  I didn’t message him again, instinctively feeling like he needed space. He still had half a mind that I was still fourteen.

  I was not fourteen anymore.

  I was a grown woman, legally able to give my consent at seventeen. Legally able to give him my consent. He just needed time to get used to the idea of us.

  I went to my café job, taking every shift that I could. I ate dinner alone and called Moina most nights, just enjoying the sound of her voice and the feeling that I wasn’t alone.

  By the time Friday came around, my body itched with the need to be near Diarmuid again, my head spinning at the thought of hearing his deep voice cascading over my skin. I twitched like a drug addict knowing that her next hit was just around the corner.