Page 91 of An Irish Summer

We left with two bottles of something local, wordlessly making our way to the staff wing. I’d hoped we were heading to his room, because I left mine in a state of disarray trying to find something to wear to the roast.

When we got to the hallway, Collin took out his keys and I breathed a sigh of relief. He raised his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of his door, and I nodded in return.

I’d never seen the inside of his room, and it left me mildly surprised. It was immaculate, and the walls bore only a few faded postcards from faraway places and a framed print of the first page of a book I didn’t recognize. The layout of our rooms was almost the same, except his had a window seat that overlooked the courtyard.

I made my way to the window and leaned out, using the fresh air to steady my nerves. “It’s nice in here,” I said. “Youkeep it so neat.” I sat in the sill, bringing my knees up to my chest and leaning my head on the wall.

“After seeing my childhood home, I’m sure you can imagine why,” he said. “Too much clutter growing up. Niamh had more stuff than the rest of us combined, so it was a proper treat to move away and have my own space.”

“You didn’t have a lot of that growing up?” I asked. “Space, I mean?”

“Unfortunately not,” he said, shaking his head. “How about yourself?”

“I had too much space when I think about it. No siblings, just me and my parents. Well, Ada, who is basically like a sister, but no one else in the house. It was quiet.”

“Ah, that explains why it was so difficult for you to adjust to hostel life,” he said. I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but he was right.

“And your upbringing explains why you like it so much, doesn’t it?” I was working through the realization aloud, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You grew up in a house that was noisy and dynamic, and even though you wanted to get away from them, you didn’t want to escape that lifestyle entirely?”

“Bang on,” he said. “Took me a while to admit that myself, if I’m honest.”

“Things like that are always easier to see from the outside.”

“By this point, Chels, I reckon you’re on the inside.”

I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to take in exactly how it felt to be let in by Collin Finegan. He seemed so open on the surface, but I was beginning to see layers beneath I knew weren’t on display for everyone.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since the first night you got here,” he said, pushing a curl behind my ear.

“You have not.” I smiled, wanting him to tell me it was true.

“I swear,” he said, crossing his heart. “I couldn’t take my eyes off ya, Chels. Really. And it only got worse the more I got to know you.”

“And where do you stand now?” I asked, holding my breath while I waited for a response. There was no going back. I’d gotten out of my own way, cleared a path, and now I had to see where it led.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” he said. He put his drink on the desk and joined me at the window. I sat up straighter, and he closed the gap between us. “But in case you don’t, I stand at a crossroads.” He ran his thumb over my jaw, letting his hand linger on the back of my neck. “On one side of the road, I want to pull you into me and hold you close, and on the other, I want to keep you at arm’s length because I know you’re going to take a part of me with you when you leave.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, trying to memorize the feel of it in my hand, the feel of his hand on my neck, the feel of my heart in my chest. “And on both sides,” he continued, “you’re the only thing I’ve thought about since the day you walked in here. I’ve been falling in love with you since that moment in the hallway, and I know whether I pull you close or push you away, nothing is going to change that.”

Time stopped. All summer we’d either been moving at a glacial pace or hurtling toward the end. But in this moment, I felt the peace and chaos usually found in the eye of a storm. It was time I danced in the rain.

With words stuck in my throat, I answered in the next best way I knew how. I put my hand in the same spot on the back of his neck and pulled his lips to mine, standing up to reach him. In an instant he had me out of the windowsill and pinnedagainst the wall, hungry kisses tracing a path from my jaw to my throat. When I raked my hands through his hair, scratching his scalp with my nails, he turned me around and laid me on the bed beneath him.

If there was anything that mattered beyond these four walls, I had zero interest in it. For the first time all summer, it was just me and Collin. And I was prepared to savor it.

I studied the weight of his body, the way he felt with our hips in line, the feel of his kisses as they dropped from my sternum to my stomach and lower still. I studied the sounds that came from deep in his chest, the needy grasp of his hands, and the map of ink across his skin. The more I studied, the more I knew he wouldn’t be the only one losing a piece of himself when I left.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” he mumbled against my skin, his voice hoarse in the silence. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the resident storyteller,” I teased, sucking in a sharp breath when he sat up and grabbed his shirt between his shoulder blades, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. “Isn’t imagination your thing?” I let my fingertips wander over his firm stomach, tracing their path with my gaze.

“Even I couldn’t dream of something that feels this good.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, stopping my hand in its path. “Look at me,” he whispered, and I snapped my eyes to his before he could say anything else that would undo me, even though looking at him did just that. Hair a mess, pupils blown, wet lips parted, inhaling ragged breaths. “You don’t know how badly I want you, Chelsea.”

“So, show me,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

After another second of smoldering eye contact, his lips were back on mine, and every inch of me sought his touch. I wanted to know his body better than I knew my own, starting with the rippling muscles in his back, down his toned arms and his ribs and the flexed muscles of his stomach, until I got to where he was pressed against me, both of us already breathless at the contact.

We moved together as if we had done this a thousand times before. There was no learning curve or awkward fumbling. We filled the dark silence of the room with whispers of each other’s names, and we didn’t stop our wandering hands from wherever they wanted to go. Every touch was more electric than the last, and the entire summer crumbled around us. And we crumbled with it.

When he sat up and pulled me onto his lap, my legs wrapped around his back and our foreheads pressed against each other, I was certain I’d never been so close to someone in my life. Any barriers between us, any walls I’d been focused on building, were long gone. Even I couldn’t deny that I should have torn them down a long time ago. Despite our closeness, we pulled each other tighter still, desperate to erase any semblance of separation. I ground my hips into his, matching his rhythm, threading my fingers through the tangles of his hair. His moans were muffled against my collarbone, and I knew it would take my body a lifetime to forget how that felt.

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