Page 90 of Tempting Irish

“If this is about me dancingwith-”

His lips crash down on mine as one of his hands twist in the mass of myhair.

“Owen,” I breathe out breathlessly, barely able to catch mybreath.

“I told ye not to talk to him.” His hands and mouth are on me, desperate,frenzied.

“You don’t get to say who I talk to.” I tug at his shirt, then snake my hands under it, my touch fevered as I run my fingers across his stomach, up hischest.

“As long as ye’re with me, Ido.”

“I’m not with you. We’rejust…”

“Just what?” he saysroughly.

“Sleepingtogether.”

A growl vibrates from his throat, and his mouth is back on mine, his hands pulling at the fabric of my dress, until it’s pulled high on mythighs.

“Is that all ye think thisis?”

“Yes.” Because if I acknowledge that it’s anything else, I know I won’t survive it. Not when I have to leave in two days. And I do have to leave. I know that now. If I’m ever going to move forward, I need to first deal with mypast.

“That’s all yewant?”

“Yes,” Ilie.

I want him. Need him. His smile. Hisbody.

But it’s too damn scary to say the words, knowing he can reject them. Rejectme.

He pulls back a fraction, his palm cupping my jaw, eyes studying me like he sees right through mylies.

Desire quivers between mythighs.

“You’re going to destroy me.” The words are out before I can stop them. They tumble from the deepest part of mysoul.

He freezes, his eyes stormier than I’ve ever seen them. An impenetrable blizzard of emotions that I can’tcomprehend.

His nostrils flare. “Bree…”

I shouldn’t have said it. Because it exposes just how vulnerable I am to him. Not that I think he’d ever hurt me on purpose. I’m the one that pushed this. That accepted his terms. I have no right to blame him for who heis.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper, feeling every fundamental part of myself detaching from him, setting up walls to protect my heart from the rejection I know will eventuallycome.

“Weneedto talk about it.” His thumb traces my jaw, his other hand still on my bare hip, his erection straining against my belly. “I don’t want to hurtye-”

The door springs open. Saving him. Saving me from the humiliation I know wascoming.

“Jeezus, Cillian. Get the hell out of here.” Owen shields my body with his as I straighten mydress.

Cillian looks away, but he doesn’t leave. “Ye need to come.Now.”

I hear the panic in hisvoice.

“What’s wrong?” Owen tucks his shirt into his pants, his brows drawing down as he glances over at hisbrother.

“Emer. Something’s wrong. Aiden’s taking her to thehospital.”

Pure panic washes over Owen’s features. “Fuck.”

Owen glances at me, and I can tell he’s not sure what todo.

“Go. You should be withthem.”

I hope that he’ll ask me to come, but he just kisses my cheek, then says, “I’ll call ye when I knowmore.”

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