Page 23 of The Celtic Resolution
“I thought prison was tough but those fights have got nothing on you.”
“You were rusty,” she says, draining her glass. “I thought you were old and slow, but prison? It makes sense. A fight with you in your prime, though?” She licks her lips like a cat approaching prey. “Wouldn’t that be an experience.”
“I’m working on it.” I smirk. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.” There’s something a touch more sultry in her tone this time. Is she flirting with me? Or is the alcohol warming the signals I’m picking up? It’s hard to tell, but they remain for the rest of the night and strengthen when we leave the bar behind and take a lazy walk along the river. Dawn spreads its pinkfingers along the skyline and Saoirse hums softly as she walks next to me in silence.
I want to say something, anything just to get her to look at me, but the words don’t come. Not until she tsks softly and stops in her tracks.
“Bruno.”
The way she says my name is like some kind of secret, soft and quiet. I stop before her and our eyes meet with a heat that sends shivers skittering down my spine. Her teeth catch briefly on her lower lip and then they part, ready to say whatever is on her mind.
Those words don’t come.
Before I can stop myself, the urge to be closer to such a brilliant woman surges up. Whether it’s the alcohol or my own deeply starved need for affection, it doesn’t matter.
I grasp her by the wrist, cup her jaw with my other hand, and pull her in for a deep, full kiss.
10
SAOIRSE
It’s a mystery how we make it back to Bruno’s motel room without tearing each other’s clothes off.
His kiss was sudden but not at all unpleasant. All through drinks I’d been admiring the light that flooded his eyes when he spoke about his family, the humor licking around his words when detailing his tales of his time in prison and beyond, and the sadness when talking about his father. Who knew we’d find common ground over trying to reach distant parental figures?
Sleeping with Bruno isn’t the smartest decision. Deep down, I know this. But his kiss was firm and sweet, his hands were strong, and he made me feel like I didn’t have to hold myself together with tape all by myself. It’s silly and fleeting but for one night, is it really that bad?
“Careful,” Bruno grunts against my lips as he stumbles over a bag lying on the floor.
My ankle catches on the strap and the only thing that stops me from falling over is Bruno’s arm around my waist. My shirt rides up and his fingers slip against the hot, bare skin of my back.
They’re as rugged as the rest of him, as rough as the beard that hugs his jaw and scratches my chin each time we gasp for air and break apart. Then we clash back together like a clap of thunder and his hand remains unmoving around my waist until we reach the bed. His rough henley catches on my knuckles when I bundle the fabric against my palm and try to rip it off him.
Laughter bubbles up inside him, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates against my lips when it escapes. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles.
I immediately lock my knees against his hips, wind one arm around his neck and flip us over on the bed so I’m on top. “I’m notlittle,” I reply heatedly, sinking my teeth into his lower lip while groaning low in my throat. He doesn’t fight as vigorously for dominance when I’m on top. His palms slide right under my shirt and sweep up my back with a pleasant roughness that sends shivers all through my body. Heat curls warm and insistent in my lower belly and my heart races to the same beat as I can feel in Bruno’s chest under my palm.
His hands continue upward until my shirt catches around his wrists and he pulls it over my head. I toss my head back and forth to free my curls as Bruno discards my top, then leans up just enough to drag his own Henley off his shoulders. Our mouths meet once more. I roll my hips down and trail my fingertips over the tantalizing slopes and curves of his muscular chest. Soft, dark hair coats his pecs and various small scars scatter across his body. I trace them all like a dot to dot while our tongues wrestle for control over whose mouth they rest in. Bruno caresses my back with both hands, then one dips down to the waistband of my jeans while the other swiftly unclasps my bra.
I sit up with a laugh. “You’re far too good at that.”
“You think?” His smirk turns sly, making him look rather fox-like with how dark his eyes have grown from lust. “Maybe I’m just that determined to get you naked that luck is on my side.”
“Bra’s are all about luck, huh?”
“Sure.” Both his hands sweep up my abdomen and rest just underneath my breasts where my bra hangs loose, teasing him with only a glimpse. He adjusts his hands until the swell of my under breast rests in the curves of each of his thumbs and his smile widens. “Tease.”
“Earn it,” I challenge.
In a flash I’m on my back once more and Bruno’s trailing a hot, damp path of kisses down my throat and across my collar bone. The contrast between his rough, work-worn palms, his prickly beard and his soft lips drives me crazy. Down and down he kisses over the swell of my breasts until he meets the lace edge of my loose bra. My breath catches in my throat as he pulls the cups upward and trails the straps from my arms, exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze.
His smirk turns a little filthy and he glances up at me through his lashes, then he holds my gaze and kisses over my left breast to my nipple. The moment he latches on with his hot mouth, I tip my head back and sink down into the bed with a groan. My core tightens, my pussy throbs and suddenly he’s not moving fast enough.
I’m too hot. Sweat teases at the back of my neck and my panties are damp enough that each shift of my hips alerts me to how uncomfortable they’re becoming. I want them off. I want Bruno on.
Sliding my hand into his thick hair, I stroke through the strands and am briefly surprised to feel no telltale signs of gel like I’d previously thought. He wasn’t lying about the mousse.
