Chasing River (Burying Water #3)(44)

“No. I was booked for a day tour to Wicklow Mountains, the day of the bomb. So . . . that obviously didn’t happen.”

I peer over my shoulder at her face again, because I can’t help myself. “You’re here for another week, only? That’s what your friend said?”

Her chest rises with a deep inhale, and her cheeks burn, her eyes flickering back and forth between my back and my face. She’s likely replaying the rest of Ivy’s words too. “Yeah.”

Silence fills the tiny office. I don’t have any interest in going back out to that loud, boisterous bar right now.

Another week.

Enough time for a torrid affair with a foreigner?

“What are you smiling about?” she asks, wariness in her gaze.

I clear my throat. “Nothing.”

“Fine.” She shoots me an exasperated look. “How about I clean these other ones.” She peels the bandages back so gently that I barely feel it. “You should probably give them some air.”

I watch her face, the lip she bites and then, as if realizing, releases. “How do they look?” I haven’t even seen the wounds yet, though I imagine they can’t be pretty. They’ve been itching, which is a good thing. Eamon warned me to keep an eye out for signs of infection. Maybe I should have been doing that.

Water trickles down my back as she cleans the areas. “They look like they must have hurt.” Cool air dances over my skin, her breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s nothing.”

“Shrapnel wounds aren’t nothing, River.” Tentative fingers drag over my forearm, as if testing my response to the affection. “You have those because of me,” she says so softly that I barely hear her, before fingers find their way up my arm to my jaw, to rub against the stubble on my cheek.

Dissolving whatever self-control I promised myself I’d have. I hook my finger around the belt loop of her shorts and tug her closer, until she’s in front of me. Her eyes dip down over my chest, slowing on the tattoo over the left side—a black-and-red phoenix. I got it when I was eighteen, the same day Aengus got his.

If she knows what it stands for, she doesn’t let on, her attention shifting to the finger I’ve curled under the top of her one sleeve, slipping the material down over her shoulder, until the spots of purple and green bruising appears. “This looks like it hurts, too.”

“It’s not so . . .” Her words falter as I lean in to kiss the ball of her slender shoulder, her skin carrying a hint of coconut. “ . . . bad.”

I shift my body closer to her, waiting for her to ask me to stop.

Instead, her mouth finds mine in one swoop, landing without any hesitation, and it’s pretty obvious that I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this all night. Her lips are surprisingly fervent and her hands brave for a girl so seemingly nervous around me. Maybe it’s only the Jameson, which I can taste with each swipe of her tongue, but I don’t mind her fingers skimming over my neck, my shoulders, my chest . . . as if memorizing me. Torturing me.

The throb from my ripped stitches vanishes as another one forms in my groin. I pull her trim body in to fit between my thighs, while I gently coax her mouth closer with my fingers curled around the back of her neck. A slight moan from her lips promises me that she doesn’t mind. The problem is I’ve never been shy or patient, and that little sound spurs me on. My hands find their way down to grip the backs of those thighs with a tight squeeze before sliding up under her shorts, getting palmfuls of that smooth, rock-hard arse I’ve been admiring.

She bumps against the corner of the desk as she tries to get closer, her arms wrapping around my head, enclosing our faces in our own little cocoon of hot breath. Not saying a word to slow me down.

“All good in—” Rowen barges in, his words cut off mid-sentence.

Amber breaks free, smoothing her hair back in place, her lips red and puffy, her breathing ragged.

His eyes dart between the two of us. “So you found the shirts?”

I spear him with a glare that promises retribution later.

“I should get back to Ivy.” Amber steps back, creating some distance between us. “I promised I wouldn’t ditch her tonight.”

Her eyes skitter over my bare chest once more before ducking past Rowen. Mine trail her all the way to the door. “Hey, you said you had horses. Do you ride?”

Her curls bounce as she half-turns, her chin resting on her shoulder as her gaze flickers between Rowen and me. “Two-time State Championship winner. Yeah, why?”

I smile. “No reason.”

As soon as she’s gone, I punch Rowen in the stomach.

FOURTEEN

Amber

It’s taken twenty-five years, a trip to Ireland, and six shots of whiskey to be able to say I’m ready to have a one-night stand with a man. If Rowen hadn’t interrupted us back there, I’d likely be in the middle of that one-night stand right now.

And that’s why I grab Ivy’s arm and tell her we need to leave the second I emerge from the back, my hands trembling. I never would have let a guy I don’t know slide his hands up my shorts within two minutes of our first kiss, and yet with River, it almost didn’t seem fast enough.

I don’t seem to have much control around him, and I like having control.

River and his brother push through the door almost immediately after, River fully dressed again in a properly fitted man’s shirt, smoothing his hair back, his lips slightly swollen. Like I assume mine are too.