Page 10 of Naughty Irish Liar

I didn’t know who the woman was last night, I wasn’t too worried.

Not really.

Okay, a little.

She was pretty, and she’d been touching Ronan.

I might be an adult, but my emotions were at teenager level when someone touched something I considered mine.

“How did it go?” My roommate and best friend asked staggering sleepily out of her bedroom walking like a creature from those zombie movies she’d force me to watch sometimes. It was way past lunch time but working nights in a lap dancing club, this was Gabby’s usually rising. Her body was amazing with a personality to match, my friend was seriously funny, smart and goal orientated. Streams of wavy brown hair poured down her spine, wearing white and blue sleep shorts with matching tank top, she didn’t look like she’d danced until four this morning. My best bitch and partner in most crimes always looked stunning no matter what.

But she hated what she calledmornings…basically any time before dusk.

I handed her a prepared latte laced with enough brown sugar to wake her enough so she would be alert to hear all my news.

“Like clockwork,” I preened tucking my legs underneath me. “He was so mad, Gab.” So gorgeous. So virile. So…everything.

“Girl, you know you’re crazy. Any other woman would just ask a guy out, this isn’t no Scooby caper. Just fuck the guy already so I can have my sane friend back.”

I shrugged, sipped again. We’d had this conversation several times. She thought I was a tad obsessed in a guy I hadn’t seen in years and stupid to want to test any residual feelings he might still carry for me. She thought my methods were silly.

If nothing else I knew now he felt something for me.

Anger meant there was emotions beneath his bottom of the sea icy gaze.

“We’re complicated.”

“How complicated can you be? You haven’t seen the guy since you had tiny little titties. You have a more complicated relationship with your vibrators, Catie.”

I looked down. My boobs were still tiny. I hardly needed a bra even.

The way he’d manhandled me, and I’d protested with such outrage … crock of cat poop by the way. I’d been smiling like an idiot behind his back. Being pinned to a wall with just the sheer aura of the man was so delicious I almost came. Seriously, it would have been the easiest orgasm of my life.

I obsessed again over if we would have kissed if not for being interrupted. He’d sure looked at my mouth like he wanted it.

Even now my belly bubbled with excitement.

I wanted Ronan MacNamara.

All six foot plus asshole inches of him.

I pretended to listen while Gabby told me about her night dealing with a grabby-hands customer which was a no-no at the club she worked at. Her boss was really cool, even if he was a little scary and looked like a mafia don but he didn’t let anyone mess with the dancers, Gabby especially.

I was fully aware I was being silly. Pining away for years, wanting a dream. I could be dreamy and logical at the same time, there was no law against it.

I should be getting ready for a class, but I wanted to be girlie for a minute more and day dream over every word and heated stare.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope.” I answered truthfully.

Gabby gasped with an eye-roll and took her coffee with her. “You’re impossible. This guy needs to be worth your life being on hold, Catie. And he better damn well dick you out so good for all the whining I’ve had to listen to over the years. I’m talking back broken, paralyzed in the legs and needing reconstruction on your vag, he plows it so hard.”

I whimpered dreamily. God, I hoped so too.

I had a virginity that was causing me indescribable aches and I wanted to give it to him so badly that over the last year I’d completely stopped dating anyone altogether because I realized, while I went through the motions with some nice guys who treated me well and made all the right noises of being a potentially good boyfriend … I craved the attention and love of only one man.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

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