“Valerie?” I say. If we were actually engaged I would just barge right on in there, but because I’m not sure how comfortable she is with me yet, I don’t want to impose.
“Hey,” I hear her groggy voice. “Come in.”
I slowly open the door and peer inside the dim room.
She’s lying on top of the bed, her scarlet hair spilled out all around her, trying to push up onto her elbows. “My god. I could sleep forever.” She squints out the window and sees the deepening twilight. “What time is it?”
I walk over to her and flick on the bedside light. “It’s almost dinnertime. But if ye need to sleep more, then that’s no problem. I’ll tell them it’s jet lag.”
“Jet lag?” she says. “I thought I’ve been here since before Christmas.”
Oh right. Shite. That would have been a disaster if I’d mentioned that. Already our stories are hard to keep straight.
“Forgot. But I can say you’re sick. I have to say, you’re making it mighty hard not to get into that bed with ye.”
She grins at me, looking both bashful and flirtatious at once.
“I wouldn’t complain,” she says.
Then she bites her lip and that makes me want to do the same.
I lean in and kiss her softly, capturing her mouth with mine.
The feel of her lips goes right through me like a burning arrow and I’m immediately hard as sin, my erection pressing against my fly.
I kiss her with more hunger now, wanting, needing, craving her. How quickly my brain shuts off, along with the charade and the logic, and I just have this undeniable urge to get inside her again. I climb on top of the bed, the mattress creaking under my weight, and prowl over her.
She whimpers as I kiss her, and for a moment I think I’m being too forward, too pushy, that the one-night stand was all that we had. Then she takes her hand and presses it against my cock, as if she’s greedy for it.
“Fuck me,” I gasp out hoarsely, my kiss deepening, hot and wet and starving, my hands going underneath her jumper and squeezing her tits, my desire for her becoming something uncontrollable. In the tiny lizard brain I have at the moment, I’m trying to calculate how we can quickly fuck without anyone noticing.
“Padraig!” my nan’s booming voice echoes from downstairs. “Stop faffin about and get yer arse down here!”
Instant erection killer.
Breathing heavily, I look at Valerie, her hair wild, her lips wet and red, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, she’s so bloody beautiful. I am in such a fucking mess with this woman.
“Faffin about?” Valerie asks, trying not to smile. “Like…” She gestures a jerking off movement with her hand, which is somehow very hot.
I chuckle and smooth the hair off her face. “Not fapping. Faffin. Faffin about means you’re dicking around. Or should I say wasting time. My nan may have a sharp tongue but she ain’t up to date with internet speak.” I pause. “Thank the lord.”
We get off the bed, sort ourselves out, then head to dinner. I pause at the top of the stairs and pull her close to me. “You ready?”
She nods anxiously. “Yes. No.” She shakes her head.
“Don’t be nervous,” I tell her, leaning in and smiling. “Kiss me.”
“Kiss me, you’re Irish?”
“Kiss me, I’m Padraig McCarthy,” I tell her. “Kiss me for luck.”
“Oh, so you’re like the Blarney Stone now, is that it?” But then she quickly kisses me on the lips. “And, I know it’s formal of you to call me Valerie, but since we’re engaged and all, I was hoping you could call me Val.”
“Val it is.”
I grab her hand and lead her down the stairs.
My father is already sitting down at the head of the table, my nan beside him. He looks a lot better than he did earlier, maybe because he’s in a nice flannel shirt and his hair is combed back and he’s high on pain meds. He’s wearing his glasses too, which I’m secretly happy about. I want him to see how beautiful Valerie—Val—is.
“Dad,” I say proudly as I lead Val over to the table. “This is Valerie, my fiancé.”
“So nice to meet you,” she says to him, and because it’s apparent that he’s not going to be getting up, she gives an awkward curtsy.
“What are ye doing that for?” He frowns at her. “I’m only dying, I’m not the king.”