by Sara Forbes
“Did you like San Francisco?” I ask. I’m studying his side profile to see the Lorcan connection. Indeed, the slant of the forehead and the nose, is very similar. Why didn’t I see it before?
“Ah, I miss it all right.” He grins. “But home is where the heart is.” He says it wistfully.
I wasn’t expecting Seamus to be like this. Human.
“You homesick yet?” he asks.
“Hm,” I say, thinking of Mom and Marci. But then I think of Brett. I let out a chuckle. “Nah, I got over it pretty much on day one.”
“That was quick,” he says. “So which part of Texas? I’ve been there a few times.”
“Austin.”
“Ah, nice. Getting expensive, though, no?”
“Yeah, even Riverside, where I’m living.”
“Where’s that? North?”
“No, east.”
“Anything exciting in that part of town?”
“No, but I’m moving back to my Mom’s anyway. She’s in Georgetown.”
“What has Georgetown got going for it?”
“We live opposite the library—if you count that as exciting.”
“I’m not much of reader,” he laughs. “What do you get up to there?”
“I run my internet business.”
"Impressive, doing what?"
I tell him as we drive over a hill and round a sharp bend. Then our chatter dies down. Normally I’d be firing questions back at him, but it feels wrong to be interested in his life.
“Was Cliona Stephenson up there with you this morning at all?” he asks.
“No, she wasn’t.”
Seamus takes another sharp turn. I notice we’re going down a long, straight dirt road, desolate for as far as the eye can see. It’s spooky as hell.
“If you wanted to kill someone, this’d be just the place,” I remark, with a laugh.
He goes still. “Jaysus, there’s a thing to be saying.”
“Sorry, I’m in a weird mood.”
“No wonder. Spending time in that place.”
I turn my head to face him. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“Nope.”
“It was an accident,” I say.
“That’s not why.”
“Then why?”
“Because,”—he glances at me—“because of the way he treats Lorcan.”
“But he’s very good with Lorcan!”
“That’s not the point,” he says. “He’s hiding the truth from him while he play-acts at being daddy. It can’t go on. Lorcan’s six, not a baby. If he were attending the local primary school, he’d have had it shoved down his throat by now.”
I wince.
“But instead, Danny’s got him in that posh school, away from the community, hiding him from the truth. When’s he gonna tell him? When Lorcan’s going off to college?” He shakes his head. “Cliona should know better.”
I stare into space, dumbfounded. Is Seamus right? When is a good age to tell a boy his father was killed by someone you love and trust? Oh God, poor Lorcan. And poor Danny, too.
“I present you Casa Del Callaghan,” Seamus says suddenly. A hint of pride laces his words.
We’re driving toward a rambling house, or set of cottages and outhouses, clearly ancient, but lovingly renovated. The uniformly sparkling pink-white paint of the walls contrasts with the dark black-browns of the wooden gables and roofs. The collection of buildings is set against the hazy blue backdrop of distant hills and the ever-present emerald green grass. It looks cozy and well-kept with a certain old-world elegance.
“That’s just the guest house,” Seamus says pointing. “Our own hut is over the hill.” He looks at me askew and I get the sense he’s not entirely serious and yet, I can’t be sure.
“Right,” I say.
He drives past the guesthouse which seems to be doing brisk business judging by the number of cars outside. Seamus scans the cars with keen interest. “Aha, our guests from Cavan have arrived.” In Ireland you can tell which counties the cars are from the registration plates.
Then I see a large stone castle shimmering in the distance. My intake of breath isn’t quite as sharp as it had been with Danny’s but yeah, the Callaghans do have the kind of house you’d expect of old Irish chieftains—set on the crest of a hill, a sturdy mansion in stone. Modern additions like a wide patio with decorative Japanese garden out front and a glass atrium connecting two parts of the house give it a lighter, contemporary look than Danny’s castle.
“Nice hut,” I say.
He flashes his full-wattage smile. “We think so too. Come on, let’s take you the back-road home.”
I watch in silence out the window as he navigates the windy, narrow roads with grass in the middle. It’s an unfamiliar way to Nuala’s house.
He stops the car about fifty yards from the entrance. “Can’t have Nuala seeing me taking you home,” he explains. “She’d have a conniption.”
I shake my head discreetly. Seriously, this place.
As I get out, he says, “If there’s ever any trouble, you can come to the Callaghans.”
I turn on my friendly smile. “There won’t be.”
“Well, just remember that.”
I frown as the car drives off.
I turn in the gate to Nuala’s. A heaviness returns from the conversation with Danny’s mother. Could she have been any clearer? I don’t belong there. And now after that conversation with Seamus, it’s clear that Danny’s life is more complicated than I thought. He has to tell Lorcan what happened that day and how he killed his father—in his own words. Or else Seamus will do it for him, and I can’t see that going down too well.
I exchange the usual greetings with Nuala. I ask her about her day. She finished two necklaces and is very pleased. She asks about mine and I tell her I got my chores done quickly and was able to finish an article. I’m glad she doesn’t question me on anything else. I go up to my room and pull out my phone. I’m in need of reassurance.
Miss you, I type. I pause. Should I really send this? I’ve never sent a needy text like this to Danny. Neediness is how it all started with Brett. I don’t want this to turn into a dependency relationship.
I squeeze my eyes shut, groan with the agony of decision-making, and I press send anyway.
Within seconds I see that he’s typing and then the message comes...
Miss you too.
A weight is lifted from my heart. Then I see he’s typing again.
When I get back, I’m taking you somewhere. Okay?
Sounds good. I type back. When are you home?
Not soon enough! Tomorrow.
Can’t wait!
Me neither.
22
DANNY
I drive up the driveway and park my Jaguar in my usual spot. I can tell that Shannon’s in the house already because the pantry light is on and my mother would never step foot in the pantry.
My heartbeat quickens. I’m hungry for her. I woke up dreaming of being with her and the lust kept me company on the whole trip home with no way to seek release. She’s not going to be doing much housework this morning if I have anything to do with it.
I tramp toward the back door. In general, things are going to change around here. I can’t hide what I feel for her, and I’m not going to sneak around in my own home even if the situation is delicate with Cliona.
I’m going to confront Mother about her barely-hidden fantasy that I’ll marry Cliona and adopt Lorcan officially. Get it all out in the open. I know her sympathy for Cliona goes to the ends of the earth, as does mine, but there is no point in hoping for something that goes against my own natural wishes.
As for Cliona herself, and what she wants, she doesn’t love me—our relationship is brother and sister, but she seems to enjoy the comfort of her and Lorcan being in this house. She’s avoiding the issue as much as I am. That’s a conversation we’re going to need to have, and it’ll be an awkward one.
I stroll in the back door, trying to be
cool.
“Hey!” Shannon turns to me, rosy-faced. She’s wearing a red apron over a white T-shirt and jeans. It accentuates her sexiness, though she’d look sexy in a potato sack.
“Hey,” I say. I take three strides across the kitchen floor and take her in my arms. Her eyes are sparkling, filled with a welcoming emotion that warms me to my core. She clutches me tight then tilts her chin up just in time to receive the kiss I plant on her lips. She’s warm, soft, glorious.
“What took you so long?” she asks.
“I want to come home to this forever,” I say and I lean into her again, pull her chin up to meet my mouth. I plunge into her with my tongue. She meets me with equal fervor and heat builds between us.
Then I become vaguely aware of a sound—a jarring, raspy sound.
“Hmm hmmm.”
I groan and break off the kiss. Mother is standing in the hall doorway, brows knitted, jaw clenched so tight her saggy skin quivers. Her gaze seems more directed at Shannon than me which is totally unfair.
Shannon is red-faced, hastily fixing her hair back, avoiding anyone’s gaze.
“Mother,” I say. I take hold of Shannon’s hand even though she tries to pull away. I’m not letting her. Mother needs to see this.
“You’re home,” my parent finally says.
“As you can see.”
Shannon tries to tug her hand away again. This time I let her go. She shakes out her fingers and darts a look between Mother and then at the ground.
“So, that’s how it is,” Mother declares finally, nodding at Shannon, managing to sound both hurt and dismissive at the same time.
“That’s how it is.” I drape my arm lightly around Shannon’s shoulders. This time she doesn’t try to wriggle away. If anything, she leans into me.
“I see.” Mother scans us both. If I’m reading her correctly, she’s thinking this isn’t the last you’ll hear about this.
Then with a majestic cock of her head, she turns to leave the kitchen. I debate calling her back, but then she’s out of sight and the impulse fades. I’m too tired, too overjoyed to see Shannon to deal with my mother right now.
“She doesn’t like us being together, huh?” Shannon says.
“You picked that up, did you?” I turn to her and pull her into my chest. “Well, she’d better get used to it.”
Shannon gives me a beautiful smile that’s vulnerable and determined all at once. “She has…good intentions though,” Shannon says in a subdued voice.
“What?” I come closer. “Oh no, she’s been getting to you, hasn’t she? What’s she been saying?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin our moment, Danny. I’ve missed you too much.”
Our lips meet again, I don’t care about anything else. It’s clear what she feels for me—it’s in her lips, her mouth, her body. And I can’t get enough. I want to strip her naked and get to the core of her. Every second standing in this kitchen is a wasted one.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I tell her in a low, urgent voice, sliding my hands around her waist. “To my bedroom.”
She slides a finger inside the buttons of my shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We clamber up the backstairs, and I’m too far gone to even care that my mother is listening, clutching at her pearls. When Shannon giggles, I join in with my laughter of my own. I feel lightheaded, years younger. Maybe I’ll pay for this, but whatever the cost, it’s worth it.
I dive on top of Shannon who’s sprawled on the bedsheet. I scoop her up in my arms, pressing kisses on her mouth and then trailing down along her jawbone to her neck. I want to have her desperate and shaking for me. I want to bring her to the highest heights, to make her forget her own name.
She’s clawing at my buttons. I push her back and slide my hands under her T-shirt.
“Put your hands over your head,” I command.
Her gaze is glued to me as she grips the vertical bars of the headboard. I pull the T-shirt over her head, inch by inch, bringing my face so close to her chest she must feel my breath on her skin. Goosebumps spring up on her breasts and her muscles harden, thrusting those perfect mounds nearer my face. When the T-shirt is at the level of her eyes, I leave it there, obscuring her view. I take a moment to watch her wriggle with anticipation. Then I reach around her and unclasp her bra at the back. With leisurely sweeps of my fingertips, I lift the bra cups off her breasts and set her free. Her nipples are hard and dark pink, jutting toward my mouth, inviting me. I can’t say no. I pause to let the suspense build and then I dip my head and take each hardened tip between my lips, sucking and teasing while she writhes beneath me.
“Oh, God,” she whispers.
I maneuver her arms to remove both the t-shirt and the bra. Now she can see me again. We lock gazes. I don’t want anything in the way of me and her.
She grips bars of the headboard again, squeezing so tight her skin goes white. Her lips are parted through which her breath comes and goes in sharp puffs.
“Just relax.” I let my hand slide down the valley between her breasts, exploring her shape, what makes her breath hitch, her eyelids flutter, her mouth goes slack even more. She’s restless, almost anxious. I sense she’s not used to a man taking his time with her.
“I could do this forever,” I assure her. “Just watching you enjoy this.”
Her breath comes out as a hiss. “I can’t wait forever.”
“Why?” Our eyes meet. “Were you rushing off somewhere?”
“Uh...no.”
“Let me remind you, you’re still on working time.”
She snorts. “You’re paying me for this? Christ, what has my life come to?”
I laugh. “Didn’t you always dream of being courtesan to an Irish duke?”
She draws her eyebrows into a fake frown. “No, actually, I dreamt of being an astronaut.”
“Let me take you to the stars then.”
She giggles. “Oh, smooth.”
I use this moment to sweep my fingers down her abdomen, down, down, until I’m pressing against her most sensitive spot. She mewls in satisfaction and squeezes her eyes shut as I make small circles with my fingertips against her hardening clit. Soon she’s lifting her ass for me, and I slide my hands in under her, massaging so she’s completely open to me.
She begins writhing, using the bars of the headboard as leverage. I make small circles until she’s arching her hips off the bed and whimpering, “Come on... yes… please.”
She’s at the point of losing herself, not caring about anything but this pleasure. And she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
I grip her bucking hips, holding her in place, letting her know I’ll be taking care of her. Every wave of her pleasure sets my own thumping through me like an electric current. I’m totally hard and her wetness soaking my fingers is making me lose all sense of control. I need to act fast.
Reaching over her trembling body to my nightstand, I yank open the drawer, pull out a condom, open it and sheath myself. While I’m working on that she takes her hands down off the bars and caresses my shoulders. “Should I flip around for you?”
“No, I want to see your face. But don’t worry, I’ll flip you around when I’ve done you this way.”
“Will you have energy left?” she asks, that vixen-like smile appearing again.
I smirk down at her. “Let’s find out.”
Her teasing expression softens to dewy-eyed surrender as my cock presses against her hot, slick entrance, parting her, entering her, filling her. I pump into her, hard then gentle, then hard again. It feels incredible—hot, tight, and just so right. I’ll never want to come out again.
Her cries start off muffled, but after a dozen or so thrusts of my cock, her voice rings out in the high-ceilinged room. “Yes, ohmigod, yes, yes, oh, Danny.”
She goes slack, her face filled with hazy happiness. I kiss her breasts then her mouth. Her eyes flutter open. “That was amazing.”
“Tell me when you’re ready
for more,” I say.
She looks me up and down and smiles. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
I flip her over, so her face is pushed against the pillows. I take a firm grip on her hips and lift her ass up to an angle that exposes her beautifully. I take my time, caressing her softly over her buttocks, along her pussy lips, and ever so softly on her clit, getting her slowly worked up again. I love making her quiver.
Her grateful sighs are muffled by the pillows as she buries her face into them. She’s lost to the sensation, giving me total control.
I knee above her, press my cock to her entrance, and listen to her sighs turning to moans. I don’t know what she’s saying—it’s incoherent. I slide inside. At first, there’s some resistance, but I smooth my hands down her back, encouraging her to let it all go.
She surrenders with a low moan as I fill her to the hilt. The angle is great for me too, squeezing my cock tight. I reach around her hip to rub her clit again. “Oh God,” she gasps.
I push faster and harder until I’m pounding her in a frantic rhythm and the bed is shaking beneath us. Giving up all attempts to be gentle, I ride her until I reach the point of no return and I jerk violently and shoot out everything I’ve got.
“God, Shannon,” I say hoarsely.
I pull out and drape my body over hers, pressing my chest against her spine, connecting body-to-body all the way down. Then I back off and let her slide down and relax beside me.
Spent, I roll onto my back. She trails her hand down my chest, toying with the hairs. Neither of us speaks as we listen to the other regain a normal breathing rhythm.
“That was…there are no words,” I say. “You’re the wordsmith. What was it?”
She smiles. “Worth coming home for?”
“Worth coming home for,” I say.
23
SHANNON
It’s been five days since I got introduced to Danny’s bedroom. Let’s just say I’m enjoying that acquaintance very much and I’m not getting a whole load of housework done.
My naughty little routine starts when I put on my apron first thing in the morning only to have it untied by Danny again, usually by mid-morning. He comes into the kitchen for a “cup of tea” when he takes a break from the accounting work in his study. He never gets that tea. What he gets is me.
