Page 86

“I think we should celebrate. You’ve been here over a month, Avery. You’ve been struggling to get to this point and now you’re here. I think that’s worth a drink or two.” He raised his brows. “Maybe even a dance.”

For a moment, he thought she’d refuse him or back down. Instead, she drew herself up tall. He kept track of her bucket list. All that was left was dancing in the pub and seeing the cliffs. Everything else she’d managed to check off.

“I think you’re right.”

“Good girl. Go get ready.”

Avery bounded up the stairs, excitement rippling in waves from the floor above.

He eyed her laptop but didn’t let himself linger, instead turning toward the windows and the sea beyond.

He wondered if any part of him had made its way onto the pages—if she’d written about him at all. He wanted to ask, but maybe it was better not to know.

It was enough just to be here, to stand in even a fraction of her glow.

Avery met him back in the sitting room almost an hour later.

He turned at the sound of her heels on the stone steps.

In all his life, he couldn’t remember a prettier sight than this.

Avery, in a little black dress that dipped between her breasts and hugged her waist. Avery, in that little skirt that flirted with her thighs. The bare legs. The shoes. The hair cascading down her back. The dark red stain on her mouth that made him wish for impossible things.

She turned for him, showing him the dip in the fabric that left her shoulders and mid back exposed. If he held her, his fingers would brush across all that soft skin.

She was an exercise in restraint. An unspeakable longing carved right through the middle of him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Far lovelier than all the seas and skies combined.”

She flushed, cheeks darkening. “That couldn’t possibly be true.”

“I assure you that it is.”

He meant it, too. Standing in front of Avery gave him the same sensation as standing before the sea—he felt insignificant, lucky to even be witnessing it. Looking at her was a privilege he wasn’t sure he earned.

“Am I overdressed?” she asked, nervously plucking at the hem of her dress.

For the pub, likely yes, but she was glowing, eyes so bright they looked like stars.

“No, grá.” He allowed himself one step closer, to lift his hand and brush it against the smooth curve of her throat. Her pulse was wild under his touch, and he ached. “You’re perfect.”

“I wish—” She ducked her head, dark lips pressed together. “I wish they could see us. Together.”

He wished for it too. To enter a room with his hand on the small of her back or wrapped around her. Everyone would know who she belonged to, who owned him so completely.

He swallowed thickly, the motion painful. “I don’t care if they see me. I only care if you see me.”

“I do,” she whispered.

Her eyes turned glassy and he made himself step away, to lift his lips in an arrogant little smirk.

“I know. How lucky am I?” He held out his arm, trying to put that shine back across her skin.

It took a moment for her smile to reform but when it did, Christ, it was blinding.

“I did it,” she said, those lovely crinkles back by her eyes.

“You did it. Come on. We’re celebrating. Jacket though, it’ll be cold.”