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Thank God the guesthouse door wasn’t locked because I was not prepared to put Ciaran down, dig out my keys, and then pick him back up again. I would have just left him on the ground.
The stairs were tricky. Ciaran was humming a tune while his hands were fiddling with the strings of my hoodie.
Once upstairs, my shoulder was screaming by the time I kicked open his door and deposited him on his bed. He nestled on his side while I took off his shoes and grabbed the opposite side of the blanket to drape it over his figure.
I turned off the bedroom light and went in search of a bucket Ciaran could use to puke in, if it came to that. I grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and, once back upstairs, I placed it by his bedside.
The lights were still off, but slants of moonlight fell on his face.
Ciaran’s eyes were open.
“Ciaran?” I thought he was about to throw up.
“I’m glad you came.” His voice was soft, vulnerable, as if he was someone else completely, and not the idiot who’d consumed his first cup of red fire oblivion on his eighteenth birthday.
He tore off the blanket.
“Ciaran,” I said, leaning down to feel his forehead, “you’re drunk. Go to sleep.”
“I’ve dreamt of this.” His hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb smoothing along my stubble.
My stomach flipped. That was new.
“We can talk about it in the morning. You’re in no position for this.”
“We’ll see about that,” was all he said before he pulled my face down to his, his warm lips capturing mine.
It was a brief touch, like the wings of a butterfly, but it scorched every cell in my body.
Ciaran protested when I leaned back.
“Ciaran, think through this,” I advised. “This is not a good idea.”
His arms snaked out, wound around my shoulders, and tugged me down atop him. His legs spread and my body fit perfectly in his embrace.
“Jesus,” I hissed when he deepened the kiss and his tongue touched mine. His kisses, which were wet and sloppy, were enthusiastic but spoke of inexperience. I’d take enthusiasm any day of the week.
Instinctively, my hips thrust forward, and he made an approving sound in the back of his throat. My blood pumped hot through my veins.
It felt best to let Ciaran take the lead. It was sweet. It was hot. It was…sensual.
I’d been holding back.
I should retreat.
I should get up and walk out the door.
But having the full length of him beneath me would be my undoing.
His legs wrapped around my waist and his hard length pressed against mine. The way his strong fingers groped at the edge of my sweater spoke of his urgency, and I was powerless to resist the way his mouth slanted over mine, how his tongue slipped inside my mouth.
It was no wonder I was slowly losing all vestiges of control.
“Kiss me back, dammit,” Ciaran ordered, biting my lip.
Like a dam breaking, it activated a beast within me.
I growled into Ciaran’s mouth, claiming it for my own, and thrust hard against him. He came alive beneath me. Panting and moaning. The noises he made sent zingers through my body.
