out.
Padraig was just two strokes behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly, holding her in place as he came inside her.
“Emmy. Jesus, Emmy.”
She sank down, her cheek pressed against the couch cushion, Padraig’s body folded over hers, his chest against her bare back.
She belatedly realized he was still essentially dressed, his shirt in place, his pants open but on.
They remained that way for a few minutes, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Then she felt the tie on her wrists give way. Padraig helped her stand, his hands on her shoulders, massaging them before turning her and pulling her into his embrace.
He kissed the top of her head. “Just so you know, that was only the beginning. We’re knocking a few more things off that list tonight because I’m not finished with you. Not by a long shot.”
She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Good,” she said softly. Then she moved until her lips touched his ear, and she whispered something so softly, she wasn’t sure he heard, especially when he frowned, confused.
Then the light went on, and Padraig smiled widely, his gaze finding hers. “Is that…?”
“My pen name,” she murmured. “And since we’re knocking things off our list, I feel like I should tell you, I regret walking to the storeroom closet willingly after you threatened to throw me over your shoulder.”
Padraig laughed. “You regret that, huh?”
She nodded.
“Game on,” he replied, picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder firefighter style, and carrying her to his bedroom as she laughed delightedly.
Game on indeed.
9
Padraig hummed as he wiped up the counter, his thoughts drifting back to kissing Emmy goodbye before he left for work. They’d spent the entire morning and afternoon lounging in each other’s arms, watching TV, eating breakfast and lunch in bed, and making love countless times.
It had been two weeks since their first date, and Padraig couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this happy. It had been years.
“Jesus, man. You gotta wipe that grin off your face. People are going to start to think you’re touched in the head.”
Padraig looked up and laughed at Finn’s observation as his cousin grabbed a stool at the bar, a big plate of wings in his hands. Then his brows rose when he spotted Oliver and Lochlan just a few steps behind, carrying clean plates, napkins, and wipes.
“Did I miss an invite to the party?” Padraig asked, pulling down three pint glasses and filling them with Guinness from the tap. He’d never had to take an order from these guys. Like him, they were Guinness men through and through.
“Actually, the party is here because you are invited, so,” Lochlan gestured to the three glasses, “you need to pour one for yourself. We thought we’d lift a glass in honor of Fergus’s fatherhood. Celebrating the newest addition to the Collins family with wings and beer.”
Padraig grabbed a glass for himself. “An excellent idea.”
Fergus’s wife, Aubrey, had delivered a healthy baby girl this morning after a long night of labor. Fergus had texted several middle-of-the-night updates, clearly going out of his mind with worry for his wife, despite the reassurances of every male in the family who’d already walked this path that she and the baby would be just fine.
According to the new dad in his last text—which was accompanied by a picture of the tiny baby in Aubrey’s arms—Sophie Grace Collins had entered the world kicking and screaming at the ass crack of dawn. And there was no question Fergus was already head over heels in love with his precious daughter.
Lochlan lifted his glass. “To Fergus, who will never enjoy another peaceful night’s sleep in his life. Poor bastard.”
“Poor bastard,” Oliver, Finn, and Padraig all chimed in, chuckling before taking a sip of their beer. For a few minutes, the four of them dug into the plate of wings, dipping them in ranch, while talking sports.
Then Finn glanced down toward Emmy’s end of the bar. “Where’s Em?”
“Doctor’s office. Annual physical. She’s coming here to write afterwards.”
“Which explains that shit-eating grin of yours,” Oliver said, turning the conversation around to Padraig. “I assume this means things are going good?”
Padraig didn’t even bother to play it cool. “Things are amazing. Seriously. Unbelievably great. We’ve spent every single night together since the soft opening of the pub.”
“I thought I recognized that oversexed glow,” Finn joked.
“Jealous?” Padraig teased.
“I live with my boyfriend and my girlfriend, so I’ll let you figure out the answer to that on your own,” Finn replied,