Page 8 of Tempting Irish

Thetroubleis, I’ve never been able to resist a damsel in distress. Emer calls it my white-knight complex. And this girl is in definite need of saving. At least, fortonight.

The numbness from earlier is gone, replaced by a simmering heat from the way the woman looks at me. Need and something else that I can’t quite place, shimmering in hergaze.

She’d taste sweet. Hell, after the dry spell I’ve been in, she’d probably taste like manna from heaven. I can almost feel the way the soft curves of her body would mold against mine, hear the soft moans she’d make when I dragged my tongue across herclit.

Yeah, there’s no way this girl is sleeping in the fuckinglobby.

Without a second thought, and knowing I’ll probably regret it, I take her bag from her hand and toss it over myshoulder.

“Wha-what are youdoing?”

I grin down at her. “Ye said ye needed a bed. I just happen to haveone.”