Page 67 of Naughty Irish Liar

The Saint Patrick’s Day party was a success.

Not to brag or anything. Oh, who am I kidding! I was bragging like a crow as the bar went to capacity so quick we started having to refuse people entry.

I was so happy that when arms reached around me and tried to inch up my green mini skirt I turned ready to laugh thinking it was Ronan. I hadn’t seen him in hours save for a few starved glances passed between us since he’d pitched in to tend bar.

It was not Ronan and the shock of seeing a drunk guy trying to get his hand up my skirt had me frozen for seconds before I tried to shove him away.

“Ahhh, c’mon now, girlie. Give us a kiss, I’m Irish.”

“I don’t care if you’re Jason Momoa talking Dothraki, don’t fucking grab me again.”

“Ahh, babe.” He slurred with a crook to his smile. His octopus hands tried again, and I knocked him back. “Come on, we’re having fun.”

Because the crowd was body-to-body almost, it meant serving tables became a contact sport. I was about to clobber this guy with my serving tray.

I don’t even know how I heard him since the Irish folk music we had playing drowned out audible human noises that itshouldhave been impossible for me to hear Ronan.

But I sensed him somewhere and when I turned around it was in time to see him vaulting over the bar, his feet didn’t even skim the surface and he came through the crowd like an avenging MMA fighter. He’d separated the guy from me in seconds, and I still didn’t know how he’d seen me in a crowd of hundreds and then gotten through in moments.

My hero.

While he dragged the guy to an open spot by the door, holding him by the scruff of his neck, I positively preened with hero-worship. There’s something so fucking hot about a man in protective mode. If not for the crowd I would have done him right there on the floor, seriously rode him stupid, no lie. Instead, I watched Ronan through dazzled eyes.

“Three things you need to know, friend. This is my pub, so you’re now barred for fucking life.” He informed the guy with the wide, scared eyes. “This is my girl you just manhandled, so you’re about to walk out of here with two broken fucking legs and if you ever try touching her again it’ll be the last thing you do with your miserable life.”

Oh, my. I know I shouldn’t be so turned on by his threats, but my heart was swooning and flip-flopping all around my chest.

In seconds four of Ronan’s brawniest staff and security had joined him, not only to back him up if he needed it (He didn’t) but they also stepped in front of me as protection. Whether it was because I was one of them or because they recognized me now as Ronan’s girlfriend.

“Get him out of fucking sight,” Ronan issued between his clenched teeth and tossed the guy aside like he was garbage. Instantly coming for me he took my hand and lead me through the celebrating mob to the back corridor where it was at least semi-quiet enough for me to be able to hear his churned breaths when he laid his forehead against mine, two big hands cupped my face.

“My hero,” I grinned up at him, but he didn’t match my smile. In fact, he looked downright miserable as he continued to breathe heavily, the air stirred against my mouth.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, he was just a drunk idiot.”

“I wanted to kill him when I saw his hands on you.”

“You better not kill anyone now that I finally have you. How can I have sex in the bat mobile if you’re in jail?”

That did bring a grin this time and I felt him relax against me.

He bumped me with his hips, crowding me into the wall. Hard flesh made me moan and reach up to give him a little kiss.

“You’re so turned on by me right now,” I crowed with a bounce to my voice because I loved seeing open lust on his face. Now we’d confessed all our feelings he didn’t hide anything from me. It was beyond cute how easily Ronan fell into being a great boyfriend who loved me. Using my fingers locked into the front of his shirt I yanked him forward until we bounced chest-to-chest.

He groaned, lowered his head, giving me an upfront look at his pleasure-giving mouth. “Fucking right I am,” oh, when he got real Irish my thighs became liquid in the middle.

“Ronan…” I breathed. “Please.” I wanted his kiss. I needed his kiss more than I needed anything else.

My teeth grazed my lower lip, it was as though everything around us fell away, leaving behind just my Ronan and his incredible mouth.

Tonight was a success in part to the faith he’d put in me and we both needed to be out there serving to the public, making sure their Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations were as good as we could make them. But listening to his chuffed breathing and the way he held my face meant all I could think about was needing his kiss.

“Kiss me, please.” I repeated.

“Not here.” He sounded pained and unconvinced by his own words. I smiled and brushed our lips together, up on my tip toes to try and match our heights, he was a hard man … in more ways than one … to convince once his mind was made up. “Don’t you want to know if I’m wearing green underpants under my skirt for my Irish man?”

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