My Life in Shambles(19)

Everything will change.

It takes a moment to change someone.

Sometimes it just takes a kiss.

I know this before it happens.

And when he leans in and the space between us dissolves, and his lips, warm, soft and commanding, meet mine, I know that a simple kiss isn’t so simple at all and nothing will be simple after this.

My eyes flutter closed, and all I feel is him, his mouth as it moves against mine opening slightly until our tongues brush and a flurry of electricity runs down my spine like fizzing snowflakes. If he wasn’t holding me so tightly I might just sink down to the floor, a dissolved girl, a puddle at his feet.

It’s during the midst of this kiss that the hunger that was slowly waking up inside me rushes through me, as if a pride of lions have just been released from a cage. I kiss him faster, longer, hold him harder. I let out a rough whimper as my body begs for more of him, more of this, more of something that will take me away.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Suddenly the music stills and the room starts yelling and I have to break away, breathing hard, my hands pressed against his chest.

New Year’s Eve.

I had completely forgotten.

I think I’d even forgotten my name.

“Seven, six, five!” The room continues to yell, and I smile, our mouths still close to each other, wanting, needing more.

“Four, three, two,” he says in a low, gruff voice, a small smile to match mine.

“One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The collective screams fill the room.

“Happy New Year,” I say softly.

“Happy New Year,” he says back.

Then he kisses me again, this one taking us into a new year, into a new start. I know my brain is all jumbled and getting ahead of myself, I know that this kiss is stripping me of all my armor and defenses, I know that I’m not quite myself right now and maybe that should concern me.

But it doesn’t. Because right now, for the first time in a long time, with these gorgeous lips searing me in a raw and endless kiss, I feel alive.

Padraig nibbles on my lower lip before pulling away slightly, his forehead resting against mine, damp with the sweat of the night.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he murmurs against my mouth as his strong hand tightens at the back of my neck. “And I don’t want to think. Not about tomorrow or the next day or the next. I just want to be with ye. That’s it.”

His words soak me to the bone.

I’ve never felt so wanted, and I’ve never wanted anyone the way that I want this Irish man, right now. It all sounds so simple and yet in my heart I know it’s going to be anything but.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Yes.”

He kisses me again.





7





Valerie





Padraig’s place is in the area of Ranelagh, on the south side of Dublin and quite a distance from the action of downtown. At least it feels that way in the back of the taxi. My entire body is literally on fire with nerves, pins and needles starting in my heart and making their way up and down my limbs.

Padraig is sitting beside me and there’s distance between us, even though both our hands have met in the middle. After we left the bar, we quickly hailed a taxi, and I guess I expected us to start pawing at each other like wild animals in the back of the car, but that’s not been the case so far. I have a feeling it might have to do with Padraig being known to everyone in this city, and he doesn’t want this (whatever this is) to become tabloid fodder. I have no doubt that our taxi driver, who keeps glancing at him in the rearview mirror, is waiting to see something between us.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I know why we’re going to his place, and I’m surprised I’m holding it together like I am. I’m no prude, but I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I’ve slept with a few guys but they’ve all been boyfriends of sorts. In the past, even the idea of a one-night stand would have made me break out in hives. I was always jealous of my girlfriends who could just sleep with whoever they wanted and never see them again. I could never gather up the nerve and courage to bare myself to a man in the most raw and vulnerable way.

And yet that’s what I’m about to do.

I glance at Padraig, the shadows under his high cheekbones darkened by the low interior lights. He scratches at his beard but keeps staring out the window as the row houses pass us by. I’m sure this is second nature to him, bringing home a girl that he’d just met that night. For some reason, that doesn’t bother me. I told Cole I hadn’t wanted to know his “magic number” because it would make me feel woefully insecure, but with Padraig, whatever is in his past is in his past. And I certainly won’t be in his future. All we have is the here and now.

And here and now we’re pulling up to a row of brick two-story houses, looking picture perfect in the warm glow of the streetlights and the lightly falling snow.

Padraig holds the door open for me and helps me out of the car. He continues to hold on to my arm, leading me through the snowy sidewalk up to the front door of his house.

“Hurt your foot?” he asks me, glancing down quickly.

I hadn’t but my gait often changes if I’ve been sitting. The question always makes me wince but I have to shake it off. He’ll find out soon enough.

I just shake my head, give him a quick smile and nod at his front door, which is painted black, making it stand out starkly against the snow and the paler bricks. “Did it used to be red?” I ask, hoping he’ll get the reference to The Rolling Stones.