Page 30 of Irish Betrayal

At his hesitation, Blair looked down and saw that the condom was torn. Frantically, she looked between her legs. Blood and semen.

“Oh, shit,” they both mouthed together.

thirteen

BLAIR

Last night had been the best night of her life, and that was saying something considering that she had singlehandedly saved Sir Paul Smart’s Ghost Orchid. Dendrophylax lindenii was native to Florida and the Caribbean.

Paul had spent thousands transporting a single plant from a small but eccentric American collector as a birthday present for his mother—and it was wilting. His stodgy mother was unimpressed, and her son was desperate.

Paul’s secretary had called Trinity College asking for advice when the finicky orchid failed to thrive. Three botanists before Blair had given it a go until finally Peter suggested giving the plant into his top student’s care.

Suffice it to say, three months of trekking to Paul’s mother’s estate to baby the plant and training the woman’s gardener worked.

Last night was better than that.

At least it was after they stopped staring at the broken condom still partially hanging from Daniel’s penis and between her legs.

Daniel just kept shaking his head and saying, “It was in my wallet too long.”

Blair was reeling as well, but action was called for. Every woman knew going to the bathroom in that situation was paramount.

Snapping her fingers in front of Daniel’s face to get his attention to move upwards, she quickly signed, “I’m going to go pee.”

The greenhouse had a lovely, little washroom with a toilet that she made use of, thankfully the room had a paper towel dispenser instead of cloth drying towels. She wet a handful and cleaned herself up, barely wincing at her tenderness.

She wet a few more and walked them out to Daniel, who had finally gotten with the program and peeled off the rubber. She traded the wet towels for the condom, throwing it in the trash bin, giving it an inglorious final resting place since it clearly couldn’t be bothered to do its one job.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plus, all that blood surely scared away your swimmers.”

Daniel gave her a “Really?” look as he finished righting his clothes. He did smile, which was much better than panic.

He took her hands for a moment and kissed her knuckles, causing her to melt a little at the romantic gesture.

“Sorry, I panicked,” he winced.

“Hey,” she started with a grin, “the fact that your condom was a relic just means you haven’t been a profligate for a hot minute.”

“Relic,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “And it’s been a lot longer than a minute since…before tonight. Before you.”

After righting the pillows that had been pushed to the ground and tucking the throw under her arm, Daniel sat on the couch and pulled her with him, cradling her gently in his arms.

He ran his fingers over her arms causing shivers to run her length. He traced her face, eyes, and lips, nudging her chin up so that she could see his lips.

“Are you okay? Tender? I kind of screwed the moment up.”

His sheepish look made her heart thud with emotion. The emotion was left unsaid but there. Definitely there.

“You didn’t mess anything up. Let’s blame it on antique prophylactics. And just think, we’ll never forget tonight.”

“Nothing could make me forget.”

Once their nerves settled, the rest of the night had been, dare she admit, romantic. They’d taken turns giving one another massages, dimming the greenhouse lights even lower and lighting the candles that his mom and aunts had thoughtfully provided.

As the only condom was used and abused, neither of them was willing to push their luck further. The massages led to pleasuring each other in other ways.

And God, Daniel knew how to please her body—his hands and mouth were exceptionally talented. There were no complaints with her performance either.