Page 37 of Wild Irish

“I’ll be fine.”

“Let me take a look.”

“I’m–”

“Fine. I know. Now sit and let me see.”

She sits down on the path and I crouch in front of her, helping her remove her boot.

I cup her foot in my hands, inspecting it, and watching her expression as I roll and massage her ankle. “There’s no swelling.”

“I told you–” She hisses in a breath when I push slightly on her toes. “Well, it hurts when you do that.”

“Ye’re not going to be able to climb the rest of the way.”

She shakes her head, a look of stubborn defiance thinning her lips. She grabs her boot, wincing when she starts to put it back on.

“Like you said, I came across the ocean to see it. I’m not going back down now when we’re almost at the top.”

She looks up, then back at me, and I can see what she’s thinking.

“I’m not carrying ye up the hill.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Standing, she turns and starts to hobble up the path, but I can see the pain in her every movement.

“God, ye’re an odd one,” I mutter.

“I’m not.” She glares at me over her shoulder, but when she does, she misses her step again and stumbles forward. I catch her before she falls this time.

“Ye are.” I press her close, running my hands down her waist and cupping her ass. “And I’m starting to think ye’re a disaster waiting to happen.” I lower my lips to her jaw, kissing a trail down her neck and breathing in her sweet scent. “But ye’re also incredibly sexy.”

The sound that leaves her throat is raspy and wanton, and goes straight to my balls. There’s no one else on the trail, and I have a mind to take her right here.

Her fingers are in my hair, her body melting into mine, and I have no doubt that if I ran my fingers up her thigh and underneath her panties that she’d be wet for me.

When my mouth captures hers, she trembles, her lips parting for my tongue. I kiss her hard, the need for her building inside me until I’m unaware of anything but her taste, her scent, her touch.

“Oh my,” a woman’s voice says, followed by a man’s cough.

My head jerks up, finding our audience, a family with two adolescent boys.

Delaney buries her face in my chest, and I give them a small awkward smile as they pass.

“Are they gone?” she asks.

“Yeah.” A smile tugs at my lips. She makes me smile, makes me want to linger in her warmth.

I can feel her shaking against my chest, and for a horrified second I think she’s crying, until a small laugh, followed by another, bubbles up from her throat.

“Ye think it’s funny?”

“Did you see the look on the woman’s face?” She’s still laughing, eyes watering with it.

I chuckle. “Yeah, but the boys seemed to enjoy the show.”

She wipes under her eyes. “This is exactly what Maeve would have wanted.”

“Who’s Maeve?”

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