Page 53 of Cillian

She took one deep exhale. “Wow. That was intense.”

Lowering my gaze to the water, shame rushed to my cheeks, a mix of heat that likely turned them red. “Baby, I know. It's like one minute, I want to make you smile. And then the next I want to corrupt you. It's this damn Sullivan curse,” I confessed, a smile creeping back on my face as she raked big piles of bubbles on my hair.

“I admit, that does sound scary. But it’d just be make believe?”

“Of course. I’m not expecting that of you in our normal space. I’m not expecting that of you in any space. Doing it for me, isn’t something that would make me happy. Doing it because you’re genuinely curious, and into it, would.”

“Then I want to,” she confessed. “I just need more time, if that’s okay. Because once we go there, I know we can’t really go back.”

Nodding, I added, “I know, baby.”

“But I want to experience everything with you. So maybe we can do the backdoor stuff first and then we just kind of go from there?”

“Okay,” I replied, appreciating her openness.

She smiled. “Is it wishful thinking that I’d like one of our kids to get your red hair and freckles?” I chuckled.

“Long as they’re as pretty as you, they can take whatever they want from me.”

Twenty

Cillian

Nothing made mornings better than a whole lot of attention from the wife and a king's breakfast to follow up. “Baby, you outdo yourself every time. Make it hard to keep leftovers,” I praised, kissing her cheek from behind.

Tuesday’s, I learned was a light day for me, so I reckon I could be home by five. Maybe even have dinner with Queenie at a decent hour for once. “Today won’t be so late for me. So maybe we could get started on…you know? That thing we talked about last night?”

“Maybe. But just call me if anything changes,” she dismissed, as I pulled her close to my chest, eyeing her with a lustful calm.

“Whatcha mean maybe?” As if I hadn’t had enough of her for one morning, I leaned in for a kiss. “We still on for tonight, right?” She replied in one of her cute little nods.

“You gonna be ready for me?” I bit my lip.

“Well, we have to eat dinner first,” as she adorably rubbed her nose to mine.

“Okay, so what about after dinner?”

“We’ll see.” Now she was playing all coy with me.

“Ain’t no ‘we’ll see’. By the time I get home, I’ll be fucking starving. In more ways than one.” I smiled, even harder once I saw her smile.

“You gonna wear that thing I like?” I whispered, before meeting back to her gaze.

“The white one or the purple one?”

“The purple one.” The thought of it alone made my mouth water. Pulling me down by the collar, she leaned in for a proper goodbye kiss.

“If you need anything while I’m gone, I left my brother’s numbers on the table. Órfhlaith’s never too far too if something’s more urgent.” She tried to pull away, but being in a fresh mood, I pulled her back.

“You gonna miss me?”

“Boy, you need to go before someone ends up dragging you out,” she joked, pushing me away before I wished her a good day.

***

Memories of my childhood blended with the imagery of the boxing gym Bellamy owned in South Boston. I was about thirteen before I could take a good punch, which Pa gave me hell for, since before then, fighting didn’t come naturally to me.

Bellamy was the opposite though. It was like he was meant to be up there—should have been—had it not been for Pa. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I were jealous of Bellamy, or had just wanted to be him. But none of us had outrun serving the family.

---