Page 61 of Tempting Irish

Chapter 18

Bree

“Home?”I glare at Owen, my chest squeezing in confusion. “If you bought me a plane ticket back to theStates-”

“And they say I have trust issues.” His voice is like gravel, scraping across my skin, reminding me that even when I’m angry at him, I’m not immune to the dark, brooding sexuality heemits.

“You do.” I cross my arms, readying myself for a fight. If he thinks I’m stubborn now, wait till I actually dig my heels in. Because I won’t have him, or anyone, telling me I have toleave.

He smirks at me, glancing away from the road briefly, and says, “I’m taking ye to myhouse.”

“Your house?” I frown athim.

“I built a place down by the lough we used to swim at. Thought ye’d like to spend a few days where ye grewup.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I try to figure out his game, but all I can focus on is the way his black t-shirt clings to his chest, and grips his biceps that flex under my gaze. He drags his fingers through his dark hair, pushing the pieces off his forehead, eyeing me sideways, waiting for myreaction.

“Did Emer put you up tothis?”

“No,” he says roughly, not expanding on hismotives.

“I can’t.” My hands go all shaky, fingers tingling, and all of a sudden, I feel like a jitterymess.

“Whynot?”

“I don’t have mybags.”

“They’re in theback.”

My mouth drops open. “You brought myluggage?”

He gives one hardnod.

My heart races, my gaze skidding over his face, trying to find his intent. If it was just sex, he could have taken me back to the hotel. So, why hisplace?

“You confuse me, you knowthat?”

He chuckles. “Trust me, sweetheart. Ye’re not the only one who feels thatway.”

I slump back in the seat, wondering what the hell he’s planning. “Does Emerknow?”

He tenses slightly, but nods. “Since we have a couple hours to pass, why don’t we play agame?”

“I hategames.”

He chuckles. “Ye were always good at them, when ye werelittle.”

“Because Icheated.”

He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. “I knew ye did. Used to drive Cillianinsane.”

“Which is why I didit.”

He smirks atme.

“All right. What kind of game?” I ask, already knowing I’m not going to likeit.

“Ye ask me a question. If I answer honestly, I get to ask yeone.”

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