Page 13 of Until Ireland

She scrunched up her nose. “How are you still drinking?”

I chuckled. I wouldn’t tell her I drank the same glass of wine through dinner while allowing her to consume her fill and have fun. “High tolerance.”

She narrowed her eyes, giving me a look like she didn’t believe me. “Lucky. I hate that shit. Landon is the same.”

The jealousy burning through my gut used the alcohol I’d drank as fuel. “Who’s Landon?” The emotion was irrational. I’d jumped the gun before with her brothers, yet I couldn’t stop myself. “Is he your boyfriend?”

She laughed, and the full-belly chortle grated on my nerves. “Good night, Mack. You should really put the glass down.”

“Wait,” I called out, trailing behind her. I didn’t poach on other men’s territory. If she had a boyfriend, they should know where she was. “Are you seeing someone? Should I be calling them to come get you?”

Humor lit her eyes. “Do you honestly believe if I was screwing some other guy I’d be spending the night with you?” Fuck, the way she arched that brow of hers in challenge got me. She fucking had me by the nuts.

“Well, we don’t know each other very well,” I quipped, shrugging.

She snorted. “I am lit tonight, or else I’d be knocking you on your ass.”

Jesus. Why was she pushing my buttons? She could’ve said no, Landon was a girl, which, technically would be hot as fuck if they were dating, but it wasn’t here nor there. Or, she could’ve said Landon was a cousin or some other family member. “Ireland...”

“Mack...” She popped her brow again, and I wanted to wipe the smug look off her face with a kiss or watch her suck my dick.

I clenched my hands at my side, holding back. She was in no condition to be fooling around. “Well then, good night.”

“You said as much already,” she whispered then tucked her lip between her teeth.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm the surge of arousal spilling through my veins. “Who’s Landon?”

“Does it matter, Mack?” She placed her hand to my chest. I gasped at the heat spreading outward from where she touched me.

Tension radiated off of me. It would be so easy to close the distance between us and make her forget whoever Landon was. Yet, I kept myself in check. I didn’t stick my dick where it didn’t belong. “Yes. It does.” I turned away from her and headed for my room. Stopping mid-stride, I glanced over my shoulder. “You should know, I don’t share.”

Again, her tinkering laugh grated my nerves. “Oh, Mack. You’re so easy.”

I turned to face her. The wrath burning through my veins consumed me. I closed the distance between us in two strides. “What did you say?” My heart pounded against my ribs. I shook from fighting a losing battle with her.

She grinned, turning me inside out. Ireland took a step closer to me, narrowing the distance between us. The smell of her rosewater perfume wafted around us, leaving me a bit lightheaded. “You’re. So. Easy.” Each word was punctuated with a tap to my nose. “I should be pissed off at you, telling you to go fuck yourself, but I’m feeling too good.”

“Oh? Are you?” I barely took a breath. Waiting. Watching her. “How good are you feeling?”

She gave a tipsy giggle. “Really good, Mack. I even forgot my strike system.”

“I’m glad you did,” I replied, hating the fucking system of hers but thankful for the clean slate.

Ireland looped her arms around my neck, pulling close enough, to the point I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fuck, she tore at my control. How easy it would be to tug off the shirt and suck on her pert tits? That dress she wore earlier did nothing to conceal her hourglass figure. I already knew her breasts would overflow in my palms.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, keeping myself in check. I didn’t enter another man’s territory. As much as I wanted Ireland, I wouldn’t start down that path today.

Her emerald eyes sparkled as she brushed her lips over mine and murmured, “Landon is my brother. You already met him.”

“Fuck,” I snarled, pushing her backward into the guest room. “I should paddle your ass for teasing me.”

I slammed my mouth down on hers. The first cry to fall from her lips went straight to my head, leaving me dizzy with lust. Her fire engine red nails dug into my shoulders, and I groaned while devouring her. When her knees hit the bed, I went down with her, covering her body with mine. Her legs went around my thighs, bracing me to her while she unbuttoned my shirt. We should stop. She was drunk, and I didn’t take advantage of impaired women. I wanted mine consenting and screaming my name when I fucked them.

“You could screw the impertinence out of me,” she said, licking her bottom lip as she pulled my shirt from my pants. “Call me a bad girl.”

I muttered a curse when she scored those nails of hers down my chest. Every bit of me screamed at me to forget my morals and fuck her all night. However, staring down at her, her eyes glassy with arousal and too much alcohol, I held back. “I could, but would you remember in the morning?”

She frowned. “You’re a party pooper.”

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