Page 44 of Wild Irish

At the end of the song, Cillian hands the guitar back to Patrick. They exchange a few whispered words. Patrick hands something to Cillian, then slaps him on the back again. Patrick looks at me and gives me a grin that has heat infusing my cheeks.

When Cillian steps off the stage, men and women—but mostly women—stop him as he makes his way back to the booth, some asking for autographs, and others taking selfies with him.

Patrick and his band get through a whole other song by the time Cillian reaches me.

His expression is unreadable, his gaze searching mine. “Well?”

“You’re Wild Irish.” I stand up when he takes my hand.

He shrugs and his arms wrap around my waist. “I was.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

He exhales and rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the other tightening around me as if he’s worried I’ll take off. “Are ye upset?”

“No.”

“What are ye thinking?” His gaze is as dark and intense as it always is when he looks at me, but there’s a hint of vulnerability there as well.

“How freaking hot you are,” I say honestly, curling my fingers in his shirt and tugging him closer. I can feel people staring, and I’m pretty sure a few of them are taking pictures with their phones. But I don’t care. All I care about is the incredibly sexy man in front of me. “And how jealous every single woman in here is of me right now.”

“None of them hold a candle to ye, love.”

“I like when you call me that,” I murmur as his lips find mine.

He kisses me hard and long, and there are a few cheers from people around us.

“Do ye have any idea what ye do to me?” he says roughly, fingers tangling in my hair.

I know exactly what I do to him. Because I can feel the result pressed against my belly.

“Why don’t we leave and you can show me.”

He lets out a small growl before taking my hand and pulling me from the stool. “Patrick gave me the keys to his rental. We can stay here for the night if ye want.”

As long as I’m with him, I don’t care where I am.

I nod, and he grins. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here. Because I’ve been dying to get that dress off ye all day.”

Chapter 18

Cillian

Patrick’srental apartment is small, pretty much just a bedroom and bathroom with a small kitchenette against one wall. But it has a bed. And for what I want to do to Delaney tonight, that’s all I need. All day, the only thing I could think about was the heat of her pussy gripping my cock, her muscles rippling around me as she came, and hearing my name on her lips as she cried out in pleasure.

“What?” she asks when she catches me watching her.

I lock the deadbolt and grin. “You.”

“What about me?”

Tossing the keys on the small table by the door, I stalk towards her. Her eyes flare, filling with arousal and heat as I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her towards me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as intrigued by a woman as I am her. It’s not just her looks. Sure, she’s gorgeous. But there’s something else. An untapped wildness. A kindred spirit. I don’t know what it is, but I know I’ve never wanted so bad to get inside a woman’s mind, just as much as her body, as I do Delaney’s.

“Ye fascinate me.” I trace the line of her jaw. “And ye’re incredibly sexy, ye know that?”

She blushes, and her gaze drops, but I tilt her chin with my thumb and kiss her.

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