by Mari Carr
Anyway, Robbie had said yes, and that was where the conversation had ended.
If she’d had a clearer head—and more time—she probably would have called a halt to tonight’s sexcapade, but Robbie kept distracting her with amazing kisses and—holy crap—the guy had managed to find approximately fifty-nine erogenous zones on her body she didn’t even know about. After that, she didn’t give a damn about anything other than coming.
She must have fallen asleep after the last earth-shattering orgasm, though she didn’t have a clue how long she’d been out.
Robbie placed another soft kiss on her shoulder, and she opened her mouth, about to ask if he was ready for round two.
She didn’t say it though. They’d spent the entire evening in this bed, blind and mute, and fuck if it didn’t turn her on. She wasn’t ready to end that game. There would be plenty of time to talk this out tomorrow.
Given his heavy, slow breathing and his gentle, almost lethargic touches, she wondered if he was fully awake. She sighed, blissfully, loving the feeling of his arms around her. The tenderness, the comfort of it, was something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She slowly wiggled her ass against him, suddenly aware that he was hard and ready to go.
He nuzzled against her, his nose in her hair as he pressed more sweet kisses to the back of her head, and his arm tightened. She reached around until she found his ass, feeling the need to do a little exploring herself. The first time, the pleasure—times three—had been all hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with such a patient, attentive lover who knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.
Then she realized why she couldn’t remember.
It had never happened.
She started to roll over, but he stopped her, tightened his grip in this sexy spoon. Kelli tried again—shocked when Robbie lifted his hand and slapped her ass. Just once, but it wasn’t a tap. It actually stung.
Once more, Kelli tried to make this guy fit with what she’d always believed about Robbie. She came up short.
More than that, she was starting to wonder if she’d missed the boat back in college.
She tried to twist again, ready to see just how alpha he was.
Kelli wasn’t disappointed when she heard his dark, deep chuckle and felt him shift on the bed. He pulled her to her hands and knees, one firm hand flat on her stomach, the other stroking her ass.
“Ahh,” she gasped when he spanked her again.
This time, he didn’t hold back, and he continued to pepper her ass with stinging slaps that hurt…in a surprisingly hot way.
Kelli opened her mouth to…what? Tell him to stop? Beg him for more?
It was too much, too good. And she was afraid if she spoke, the spell would be broken. He would stop.
She lowered her upper body, shifting from her hands to her elbows, keeping her ass lifted high. She wasn’t sure how she could tell her actions had pleased him, but there was a definite shift in him, in the way he gently caressed her sore ass that told her he approved.
The whole night had been spent issuing unspoken demands and pleas, speaking only through body language, sighs and moans.
Like right now.
Kelli sighed when he ran his fingers along her slit, slipping two inside her. She arched her back, pushing toward them, wanting—needing more.
He didn’t disappoint as he stroked her harder, faster.
God, she’d never had a lover work so hard to make sure she found her pleasure, and there was something about the way he was touching her right now that told her he wasn’t going to stop until she came.
His fingers left her, and she growled. The sound clearly amused him as he gave a breathy laugh—all air, no sound.
And then he repeated the whole thing again. Spanking her, rubbing her heated skin, fucking her with those two fingers.
Over and over, until finally, he added a third finger to the game.
Kelli was lost, especially when the hand on her stomach slipped lower and he stroked her clit.
Her body reacted before her brain could catch up, lightning tingling from her pussy, pulsating up her spine. She gasped and groaned, the sounds muted by the pillow beneath her.
He gave her no time to recover. Instead, he donned a condom, pushing into her still-quivering pussy, straight to the hilt.
She had only a split second to wonder about the condom—it was the second time he’d used one—before he took her with all the speed and force she’d ever dreamed of.
His fingers clenched tightly into her hips as he pulled her toward him on every inward thrust.
Kelli realized she wasn’t an active participant at the moment. She hadn’t found her sea legs yet, still reeling from the first orgasm.
Not that he cared. He wanted her. So he took her.
It was heady, passionate, everything she’d ever dreamed about but never found.
Her second climax struck fast and hard, her body trembling as if she’d received one hell of an electric shock. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t slow down.
“Ahh!” she yelled into the pillow, uncertain she could withstand another orgasm like that. Even as her traitorous hips began pushing back toward him, demanding that he take her harder.
Every thrust felt like flint against steel, sparking hotter, making her burn.
Then his thumb found its way to her ass, the tip rubbing around the entrance.
Oh my God.
He wiggled it suggestively—that was it, just a suggestion—and she was lost. When she came again, she took him down with her. Both of them jerking against each other, taking as much as they could, roughly, gracelessly.
Kelli’s knees gave out, sliding down until she lay prostrate on the bed, facedown.
Robbie turned as he fell to his back next to her, his hand resting on the heated flesh of her ass.
She huffed out a laugh when he lifted it lazily, placing one last smack there, before she heard his breath deepen, sleep taking him.
Kelli was only a moment behind him, her eyes drifting shut. Her last cognizant thought was that she’d never felt so…content, sated.
Happy.
* * *
The next time Kelli opened her eyes, the darkness that had permeated the room had brightened to a dark slate gray. It was still hard to see, but Kelli knew morning had arrived. She shifted slowly, grinning at the stiffness in muscles that hadn’t gotten that good of a workout in way too long. She’d passed out on the edge of the bed, so it was very easy for her to sit up without jarring Robbie, who was still sound asleep.
She sighed, blissfully, blinking to try to bring some part of the room into focus. Colm was going to kill her when she confessed to having sex in his bed.
Not that the thought dimmed her smile. It actually only made the whole night that much better.
Her head hurt, but not as badly as she might have expected. And she was thirsty, her mouth bone-dry. Neither of those things bothered her as much as they might have if last night hadn’t been so…perfect.
She rose gingerly, secretly loving the soreness between her legs.
She’d missed sex, even the lackluster variety she’d endured the past few years.
Now…God…
Kelli wasn’t certain she’d be able to settle for anything less than what she and Robbie had shared last night.
Robbie.
She turned to look at him, but he faced away from her. She admired his bare, muscular back. She hadn’t realized he was so strong, so physically built. He hid way too much of the good stuff under his loose-fitting T-shirts.
Glancing around the room, she spotted her Merida dress laying in a heap near the corner. She hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes, which was stupid. She’d known she was spending the night, but she’d been running late and figured she’d just borrow something from Darcy for the return trip home.
She stood up and stretched. The shifting of the mattress didn’t wake Robbie, but it roused him enough that he turned over, his arm claiming t
he spot she’d just vacated.
Kelli started to bend down to see if she could wake him with a kiss, but as she shifted closer…
Fuck.
No.
Fuck no.
She backed away from the bed quickly, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat, her lungs constricted so tightly, she couldn’t breathe.
Padraig?
She shook her head, sheer panic clawing at her, as she studied the sleeping form on the bed in the dimly lit room.
Not Robbie.
Padraig’s clean-shaven face was peaceful as he slept.
Kelli’s brain was on system overload as she tried to figure out what was going on.
Padraig had been drunk last night. Very drunk. And sad about Mia and upset about almost losing Seamus.
Had he sought her out? For sex?
No.
Jesus, no. He wouldn’t do that. It didn’t make sense.
He shifted again and she reacted before she could think.
Escape.
The headache she’d thought bearable was now a blinding migraine, and she suddenly felt nauseous.
She had to get the fuck out of there.
Kelli quickly reached for her dress, shoving it on, only bothering to zip it halfway up her back.
Where the fuck are my shoes?
Downstairs. The rest of her stuff was downstairs.
Tiptoeing to the door, she left the room, managing to get her stuff and get out of the apartment—and closed pub—without running into anyone.
Dashing across the street in her ridiculous ballgown—talk about the ultimate Halloween walk of shame—she got into her car and stared out the windshield without seeing anything around her. Her hands were trembling as one thought kept beating a tempo in her aching head.
What the hell have I done?
Chapter Six
Kelli stood outside Pat’s Pub a week later and cursed herself for being such a damn coward. Running away last Saturday had been wrong. Stupid.
But she’d been hungover, shocked, and God…so freaked out.
So she’d gone home, taken some Advil, crawled into her own bed, and slept until dinnertime. After that, she’d gone on autopilot, sleepwalking through her days, tossing and turning all night.
At work, she was able to forget what they’d done before coming home and staring at her phone for hours, wondering and worrying what it meant that Padraig hadn’t called or texted her.
Then chastising herself for not calling or texting him.
On Wednesday, Padraig put her out of her misery.
Sort of.
He’d texted to see if she’d recovered from the party. She’d responded with one tentative word.
Yes.
Just yes.
Then he’d given her a “me too—barely,” followed by LOL and “See you Friday?”
And that was it.
Again, she’d just said yes, assuming he wanted to talk about what had happened after the party face-to-face. It was just like Padraig. He was sensible and kind and not a complete chicken shit, like her. Obviously, he wasn’t angry at her for leaving or upset about what had happened. She could have saved herself a lot of angst if she’d just stuck around the morning after. They could have talked it out, laughed it off, and moved on.
Except…Kelli wasn’t sure she could do any of those things.
She wanted to. Desperately. But…he’d rocked her world. Shaken her to the core. Good sex was pretty rare in her realm of experience.
Great, amazing sex? Unheard of.
Plus, Padraig had been her best friend since kindergarten, and never, not once in all those years, had she looked at him as anything more than the brother she’d never had.
Now…she kept remembering Friday night. The way he’d kissed her, spanked her, held her. It was fucking hot.
But even now, a week out, she couldn’t make the pieces fit. Because Padraig still loved Mia, deeply. He hadn’t gotten over her death and he wasn’t ready to move on.
She knew that because she was his best friend, and in a lot of ways, she felt like she knew him better than she knew herself.
So. No.
Nothing fit here.
She glanced through the plate-glass window and spotted Padraig behind the bar, pouring drinks, talking and laughing with Emmy.
He looked and acted exactly the same.
Meanwhile, she felt as if she was someone completely different, a stranger to herself.
She’d been doing Friday happy hours at the pub for years, but this week…God, this week it was taking everything she had to walk into the place.
“This is Paddy,” she murmured, trying to reassure herself that they could talk this out, make things right.
She couldn’t lose him over this. She wouldn’t.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and walked in, walked right over to the counter and claimed her stool.
Padraig gave her the same sweet, friendly smile he always gave her, the one reserved just for her, and she felt like she could breathe for the first time in days.
“There’s Merida! How was your week, Kell?” he asked.
She glanced from Padraig to Emmy, then back again. He was acting like, well, like Padraig.
So she gave him the same. “A whole week of five-year-olds hopped up on Halloween candy. I’ll let you puzzle out the answer to that.”
He laughed and lifted a wine bottle.
She raised her hand with an unspoken “stop” cue. “God, no.”
Padraig laughed harder. “Yeah. I hear you. Pretty sure it’s going to be a damn long time before I drink again. Maybe years. Maybe never. I’m a little embarrassed.” He glanced at Emmy. “Okay, I’m a lot embarrassed.”
Emmy giggled. “I didn’t say a word.”
“So…it was a rough Saturday?” Kelli asked, trying to figure out how to start the conversation they needed to have. Unfortunately, the pub was quite busy, and it would be tough to pull him aside for a few minutes. She also really didn’t want to talk this out with Emmy there.
That had been another layer to this week’s unending guilt. The fact that Kelli genuinely believed Emmy and Padraig would make a wonderful couple, that she could be the woman to heal her best friend’s shattered heart.
He nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Rough Friday night too,” Emmy added with a laugh.
Kelli was taken aback. Had Padraig confided what happened to Emmy? “Was it?” she asked, looking at him.
“I blacked out, Kell. I’ve never done that in my life, and I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I don’t remember the end of that party at all. I’m not sure how I let myself go that far.”
Kelli could suddenly hear her pulse thudding in her ears, her heart beating so fast, so hard, so fucking loud.
Emmy and Padraig said something, the two of them laughing, but Kelli couldn’t hear them over her own panic.
He didn’t remember. He didn’t know what they’d done.
“Pour me a pint of Guinness, Paddy, and keep ’em coming.”
Kelli glanced over as Colm claimed the spot next to her. He looked as bad as she felt. His dark hair was mussed, like he’d run his hand through it a hundred times too many, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Plus, he’d gotten a little heavy-handed with the trimmers, his beard shorter than normal, even a bit patchy in places.
He looked like shit.
“You okay?” she asked, despite the fact she was in freak-out mode.
A-fucking-gain.
Padraig didn’t remember having sex with her. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?
Colm shrugged. His response little more than a grunt. “Yeah.”
“Still not returning your calls?” Padraig asked, as Kelli forced herself to listen to their conversation, needing the distraction.
“Who?” she asked.
“Brooke.” Colm didn’t bother to elaborate.
“Apparently, she and my brother here had one hell of an after-party the night of Halloween.” Padraig l
ooked ready to continue the tale, but someone at a nearby table called his name, asking for another round. “I’ll be right back.”
“Do you mind watching my laptop real quick?” Emmy asked, excusing herself to go to the ladies’ room.
Kelli waved her assent. “So you hit a homer, huh?” she asked, confused by his misery.
Colm nodded. “Best sex I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”
Kelli could relate to that. She felt the same way about her night with Padraig. And he couldn’t even remember it. “Wow. Didn’t realize Regina George had it in her,” she said, working hard to adopt the teasing tone reserved pretty much exclusively for Colm.
“Neither did I. In fact, I was debating breaking things off with her.”
“After you had sex with her, of course.”
Despite the fact he looked like he’d been ridden hard and put up wet, Colm managed to give her his signature cocky grin. “Of course after. Jesus. I’m not an idiot.”
“And now she’s not returning your calls?” Kelli asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she added, “Good for her. Starting to respect Brooke more.”
Colm ignored her. “No. She’s not returning my calls. Or my texts. I’m starting to feel like a creepy stalker. I just can’t figure out…”
“Have you considered that maybe it wasn’t as great for her?”
Colm smirked. “That thought never crossed my mind. Because I know it was. That many orgasms don’t lie.”
“You realize women can fake those, right?”
Colm took a long swig of his beer. “Nope. Not fake. I’d know.”
“Says every man on the planet. Yet most women are faking them. That’s pretty simple math.”
“No. It was good for her too. I know it was. Which is why I can’t… Aw, fuck it. I’m tired of talking about it. Tired of thinking about it.” Colm set his pint glass down and stroked his beard before running his hand through his hair.
“You’re going to go bald if you keep tugging at it like that,” she said.
And then, she recalled her conversation with Colm last week, the way he’d really listened and been supportive of her decision to have a baby on her own.
Padraig was gathering up empty glasses from a table nearby, and Emmy was on her way back from the bathroom.
