Barefoot on a Starlit Night

by Jo McNally

  “You’re perfect. Fuckin’ perfect...” He nipped at her shoulder and started to move. She did her best to move with him, even as she was suspended in mid-air in his arms. He quickly lost all track of who was doing what. There was no up, down, floor, wall. Just the two of them connected in a way that made his heart feel like it was going to burst right out of his chest. No words. Just sounds and heavy breathing as he drove into her until stars appeared behind his closed eyelids.

  “Bridget...oi, Bridget...”

  Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades through his shirt. They weren’t two people anymore. They’d melded together as one, and they reached the climax with a tangled cry of triumph. Right there in the hallway of the Purple Shamrock. All the thoughts that left his brain a few minutes ago came flooding back now as he rested his head against her shoulder and waited for his pulse to steady.

  He’d told her he didn’t want a quick bang, then took her against a wall. Was he a jackass for doing it? She’d been as enthusiastic as him, but still. A wall. He cringed. He was forty, not some horny teenager. Bridget tapped the back of his head lightly with one finger. Her breathing was as ragged as his.

  “What the hell are you thinking so hard about?”

  “Tryin’ to decide if I should be apologizing or...”

  “Or doing a victory dance? I vote on the latter. Good Lord, Finn. That was amazing... Oh!” His body had taken one last shudder against her at the word amazing. “But I’m losing feeling in my legs, so if you could relax your...”

  His hands were holding her body off the ground, clutching her very fine ass tightly. He muttered an apology and reluctantly let her legs slide down until she was standing on her own. Her knees nearly buckled, so he kept a light hold on her hips to steady her. The hem of her sweatshirt fell against his hands. His jeans were still around his ankles. Very smooth, O’Hearn. He was quite the charmer, wasn’t he? He grimaced.

  “Not exactly the romantic interlude I’d intended, but things just...”

  “Happened? Yeah, they did. And it was fun. At least it was for me.” Her brows lowered in concern. “And I thought for you, too?”

  He shook his head to clear all the pesky doubts away. “Definitely fun. Like...the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. Maybe ever.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m sorry for getting in my head so much. It just caught me off guard...this...here...” He glanced down at the pants at his ankles. “Like this. You deserve...”

  “Whoa.” She pressed two fingers against his mouth. “I was a very active participant in what happened. And where. And how. And Finn?” Her right eyebrow rose high, and there was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “I liked it. A whole hell of a lot.” Her smile deepened. “Your mouth isn’t the only thing magical about you.”

  He barked out a laugh, and his chest finally began to loosen. He’d spent so much time over the past two years doubting every decision he’d ever made that it had become a habit. But she was right. Not about the magical part, although that was nice to hear. But the hot sex they’d had was mutual in every way. And just because he’d had her against a wall with his pants around his ankles didn’t mean he couldn’t follow it up with candles and wine and an actual bed.

  “Did you like it enough to repeat it?” He reached up to hold her fingers, kissing them at the same time. “In a more...horizontal position? With fewer articles of clothing? In an actual bed?”

  She didn’t answer right away, but it didn’t feel like hesitation as much as consideration.

  “Tomorrow is the Shamrock’s biggest day of the year. A long, busy day that’ll start early.”

  “Is that a no?” Please don’t be a no...

  She grinned.

  “Not a no. Just a statement of fact.” She moved to the side, pulling on her jeans and tucking her pink panties into a back pocket. That move was enough to arouse him all over again. “To make up for the lack of sleep, though, I may have to ask you to lower your standards and help with our tacky American celebration of St. Paddy’s Day.”

  He bent over to grab his own jeans, buckling his belt with a wink in her direction. “I think we already started a tacky American celebration that St. Paddy would definitely not approve of. The moral ground has been lost. May as well keep it going, yeah?”

  * * *

  THE MORAL GROUND has been lost...

  The words should make Bridget feel ashamed, at least a little. But they didn’t. Instead, she felt a sense of...victory. Not for having loose morals—she knew Finn wasn’t serious about that. They were two consenting adults. But there was a personal victory in letting go of her defenses and just going with the moment for once. She’d given up the role of The Responsible One, and damn, it felt good. Would there be regrets tomorrow? Maybe. Probably. But tomorrow was hours away, and the idea of spending those hours in a nice warm bed with Finn O’Hearn was too tempting to turn down without at least some consideration.

  If she and Finn were a mistake, it had already been made. If they were going to regret it, why not make it a night worth the regrets?

  But of all nights, the night before St. Patrick’s Day. So much work to do tomorrow. It would be more practical to wait and think about this...

  Finn cupped her face in his hands, planting a soft kiss on her lips. He pulled back, looking resigned.

  “It’s okay, love. No pressure. We don’t have to do anything tonight. The memories alone will keep me...”

  She traced her fingers through his black hair and went on tiptoe to kiss him. He groaned and gripped her tighter, taking control of the kiss. People teased her for being a control freak, but she gladly conceded to Finn. He took over her mouth and her breath and her heart. She was completely lost in him, ready to drop her jeans again right here in the cold back hall of the Purple Shamrock. Her back bumped the door. Finn reached behind her to take the handle, murmuring against her mouth.

  “My place or yours?” he asked.

  “We’ll never make it up the stairs at this rate. Yours.”

  Finn chuckled and pushed the door open. The blast of cold air did nothing to cool off the fire burning between them. Neither did the laughter as they locked up the pub and hurried across the parking lot and into the house. They did it all while tangled up in each other, kissing every few seconds, stumbling on the icy front steps, fumbling with the keys, shedding their coats in the entryway and the rest of their clothes on the way to the bedroom in Finn’s apartment.

  They didn’t slow down until they hit the mattress, laughing and out of breath. Finn propped himself up on one elbow and ran his hand down her side, sliding from her shoulder to her ribs, her waist and her hip without saying a word. The only light was from a lamp out in the living room, brushing through the doorway, soft and sensual. He stared at his own hand intently as it made its way gently down to her thigh, then slid between her legs. He traced up the thigh of her other leg, then back between them again. Her hips rocked up against him and he stopped, pressing his fingers against her.

  “Uh-uh. We have all night, love. No rushing this time.”

  His fingers began to move, and she moaned his name as she lay back to let him have it his way. Because his way was delicious. She’d take control later...much, much later...

  There was no doubt Finn knew his way around a woman. Between his fingers and his mouth, he’d had her crying out more than once before he reached for the nightstand and pulled out a box of condoms. She couldn’t help laughing, but at the same time, she felt just a shadow of worry.

  “That’s a lot of condoms, Finn.”

  It was a joke. Sort of. Had the room just chilled, or was her busy brain trying to ruin everything?

  Finn had gone still. He hesitated before holding up the box.

  “Bridget, I bought this months ago.” His voice was gentle but serious. “And it’s still sealed. That one in my pocket is even older than these.” He set
the box on the bed and ran his fingers up her arm. “We’ve both been burned by cheaters. I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t... I don’t do one-night stands.” He frowned. “And that’s not what we’re doing.”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop. I wasn’t trying to slut-shame you, Finn. I had no right to say that. You’re a grown man who had a whole life before we met. I’ve lived a life, too. It was just a little freak-out moment. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled against her fingers, his eyes shining with mischief again as he reached for the small blue box. “So you don’t mind if I unseal this now?”

  She snatched it away from him. “Even better, let me do it.”

  Finn sucked in a sharp breath when she slid the condom on, playfully running her fingers up and down. He was on his knees between her legs, and his head dropped back, eyes tightly closed until she released him. His gaze nearly set her on fire as he stretched out over her, teasing her until her back was arching to reach him. He dropped his head next to hers and whispered roughly in her ear.

  “I’m going to need you t’ spend more time touching me like that, love. But right now I need t’ be in you...”

  And then he was. The wall sex had been hot and fun, but this? This was so much better. They moved together, her legs wrapped around him, sheets twisted around their feet. He’d take her right to the edge, then bring her back again, slowing down until she was whimpering with desire. Then he rolled so she was on top, and that was...incredible. His hands reached up and tangled into her hair as she took control of the game. She was just about to achieve what she wanted when he gave a laugh and rolled again, pinning her to the mattress and holding her hands above her head. As if knowing she was about to lose her mind, he drove hard and fast, and they both went with a loud cry. He collapsed on her, face buried into the pillow. Their bodies pulsed a few more times, but all they did was groan and hold each other tighter. Bridget had one question on repeat inside her head.

  What the ever-loving hell was that?

  Before she could ask the question out loud, she realized Finn’s breathing had suddenly slowed. His weight pressed down on her. He was asleep. Or unconscious, which was a serious possibility after...whatever that was. More than sex. More than lovemaking. More than anything she’d experienced. She was a little light-headed herself. Or maybe that was lack of oxygen, since he was crushing her. She pushed on his shoulder. He grunted, then slid to his side. His arms were tight around her, but at least she could breathe. She’d assumed he was sleeping, until he squeezed her and murmured against the back of her neck.

  “You feel so good, love. Stay with me, yeah?”

  She grinned. As if she had any choice with the way he was holding her. As if she’d want to move, even if she could. She patted his arm.

  “I’m staying.”

  It seemed as if she’d just blinked, but the next time she opened her eyes, the alarm clock read three o’clock. In the morning. She stretched, and felt Finn’s strong arms around her from behind, holding her firmly against him. He let out a breath against her neck.

  “I was wondering when you were going t’ wake up.” His lips brushed her shoulder. “Not that I mind holding on to you, love.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “But that snoring of yours...”

  “I beg your pardon!” She turned to meet his laughing eyes. “I do not snore. I...I purr.” Her snoring wasn’t news to her. She’d been teased about it since she was a teen.

  Finn chuckled. “Purr, eh? Let me think...” He shook his head. “Nope. Not a purr, unless you’re referring to an engine purring. Like...a big engine. Diesel, maybe...”

  She swatted at him, but he easily blocked it, grabbing her arm lightly and holding it against her chest. She was trapped. And she didn’t care. In fact, she moved back against him, making him hiss when her butt touched his growing hardness. He was clearly enjoying this playful exchange as much as she was.

  “Sorry if I disturbed your beauty sleep, professor.”

  “You didna’ disturb a thing, love. Everything you do is a delight to me.”

  “Wait until you hear me pass gas...”

  He laughed, pretending to push her away, but not releasing her completely.

  “Oh, that’s lovely. How did we go from earth-shattering sex to talking about farts? You’re a true romantic, Bridget McKinnon.” He pushed her onto her back, grinning down at her in the darkness. The only reason she could see him at all was because of the lights from the pub parking lot shining through a slit in the curtains. His hair was practically on end, dark and shining. His eyes gleamed in the muted light, and his fingers traced across her stomach. It made her shiver. And then her stomach grumbled.

  “And there she is again!” Finn laughed. “Any more noises this heavenly body of yours can make?”

  Bridget covered her face with her hands. “I refuse to apologize for being hungry, but wow, that was embarrassing!”

  Finn sat up so quickly that his absence sent a chill across her skin. “Come on,” he said. “I’m a bit peaked myself. I’ll make us some omelets.”

  “At three in the morning?” She sat up, starting to cover her breasts with the sheet, then realizing it was too late for modesty. Finn tossed her a T-shirt that was hanging from the back of the bedroom door. It was soft and used, and it smelled of Finn and sweat. Combined with the general odor of sex in the room... She’d make a fortune if she could bottle that heady combination. She tugged the shirt over her head and hopped out of bed to follow Finn, tugging on her panties along the way—the tee wasn’t quite long enough for her to feel comfortable walking into a kitchen.

  He was cracking eggs into a bowl, and humming to himself. It was a haunting melody, and she guessed it was Irish. Not Irish like “The Unicorn,” but real Irish. The Irish of “all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad.” Her grandmother used to repeat that Chesterton quote a lot, and Bridget never understood what it meant. But watching this bookish, dark-haired Irishman standing at the stove wearing nothing more than a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips... She started to get it. The Irish were deeper—and darker—than laughing leprechauns with their pots of gold. She slid onto one of the counter stools.

  “You’re really making breakfast?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Aye, I said I would. It’s gonna be a long day, so maybe we should call it pre-breakfast.” He flashed her a grin. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Bridget.”

  “Happy St. Patrick’s Day right back at you.”

  He tossed some sliced onions and mushrooms into a small pan, letting them cook up nice and tender. Meanwhile, he poured some egg into an omelet pan—the man had an omelet pan—and swirled it around as it cooked. He scooped half the mushroom mixture onto the egg, along with a pinch of shredded cheese, then folded it in half. He slid it onto a small plate for her and went to work on a second one for himself. The golden brown omelet on her plate was practically perfect, and she dove into it, letting out a moan with the first mouthful.

  “Oh, wow. This is so good.” She swallowed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  He raised one brow. “Your stomach seemed to know.”

  She laughed. “True. I was so busy tonight...last night...whatever. I don’t think I actually ate anything. I just grabbed snacks from the bar. And then all of that...um...”

  “Wild sex? Horny escapades in the hallway? Hot lovemaking in my bed?”

  He slid his own omelet onto a plate, filled two mugs with coffee and joined her at the counter. She grinned.

  “I was going to say physical activity, but yes, those all work, too.” What a surprising night. Then again, she should have seen this coming. The chemistry between them had been off the charts. It was only a matter of time before they succumbed. Was it a mistake? She didn’t realize she’d asked the question out loud until Finn answered.

  “Only if we let it be.”

  “Wha
t?” She reached for her coffee, feeling a need to clear her head.

  “You asked if tonight was a mistake. And I don’t think it has to be. We’re grown-ups who had a very grown-up evening that lasted until...” he gestured down to his plate with a grin “...until pre-breakfast. We had fun...at least I know I did. There’s nothing saying we can’t do it again, as long as we’re clear where we stand.” He finished his omelet, as cool as could be, as if they were discussing the odds of snow that day, then waved his fork in the air. “We agreed we were exploring chemistry. I think we’ve determined that the chemistry is quite real. So there’s nothin’ sayin’ we can’t continue. Like adults.” With his brogue, the word came out as add-ults. Such a little thing, but she liked it. She liked him.

  “You’re suggesting we spend more nights together?” Her belly warmed at the thought, making her squirm on the stool.

  His shoulder rose. “Everyone thinks we’re doin’ it anyhow. We’d have no reason to hide it.”

  There was something to be said for not hiding things. The fake engagement was killing her because she had to lie to people she loved. But this idea wouldn’t require any lying at all. The fake engagement would be the perfect cover for a real affair. She closed her eyes tightly, suddenly dizzy from all the stories.

  “This is getting so confusing.”

  Finn tugged her off the stool to stand between his legs, sliding his arms around her waist and holding her close. His forehead rested on hers, his eyes glowing like dark emeralds in the soft kitchen light.

  “I’m sorry, love, for dragging you into the engagement mess. But if we can have a bit of fun out of it, is that a bad thing?”

  She closed her eyes again. Something rankled inside of her.

  “Is that what tonight was? A bit of fun?”

  That was actually what they’d agreed to. No strings, exploring possibilities, etc. But standing here, having omelets together, with him touching her...it felt like something...more.

  Finn’s brows gathered, and he hesitated before answering.