Page 32 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

My therapist hated me.

Six weeks into our twice-weekly sessions, and I was beyond certain of the fact that he detested our sessions as much as I did.

Threatening to sue and dismember him after he suggested that my ‘father issues’ would be resolved if I actually took the time to speak to my father rather than ignore him forever, like I wanted, were likely only a couple of the reasons he disliked me.

Not to mention his ridiculous session fees were laughable.

I wanted the best of the best, someone discreet and trustworthy, and I understood that meant paying top dollar, but Mon Dieu, the monthly membership fee at Monarch was cheaper than two sessions with Dr. Moorehead.

I reminded myself before every session that I was doing this to be a better man.

I was submitting myself to twice-hourly sessions of torture because those in my life deserved better.

I deserve better.

Even if it meant forcing myself to talk about things I swore to keep buried.

After another grueling session, focusing on my relationship with my brothers — including an in-depth analysis from Dr. Dickhead on the steps to improve — I longed to be home.

The Halloween break was upon us, meaning Penelope was off school for the week, and I had easily convinced the board that I needed an extended period of leave from work.

They saw it coming, and although it pained me to step back for a bit, I knew it was the right thing to do. My head wasn’t in the right place, and it was only doing Dade Diamonds more harm than good after losing the Apex Saintz contract.

Walking in the front door of the house, the sound of Penelope giggling uncontrollably erupted from upstairs, followed by running footsteps.

“Did you hear that?” Orla said in a not-so-whisper. “I think your daddy is home. Let’s hide and scare him.”

I listened to the two of them failing to stay quiet as they searched for hiding spots. Orla’s soft, warm laughter, mixing with Penelope’s excited giggles, left me rooted to the spot like some lovesick fool.

This was the reason I inflicted therapy upon myself.

They were the reason I no longer wanted the weight of my past to drown me before I had a chance of a better future.

Running up the stairs, it took less than three seconds to realize where they were. Penelope’s pink-glittery painted toenails stuck out from underneath her curtains. Not to mention the material was physically shaking from her trying not to laugh.

“Where could everyone be?” I exclaimed loudly. “Are they under the bed? No, not there. Are they hiding in the toy chest? Hmm, how strange no one is there either.”

Snickering intensified behind the curtain.

“I guess they must have gone out,” I pondered, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh well, I guess this bag full of cupcakes is all for me then.”

“Cupcakes?” Penelope jumped out. “Did you bring one with sprinkles?”

“Of course, what sort of dad would I be if I forgot the sprinkles?” I chuckled. “There’s even a super special one here for Orla, if she stops hiding.”

Orla’s head poked out from behind the curtain. “That’s a dirty tactic.”

“Someone once told me they liked to play dirty.”

Orla rolled her eyes with a smirk. “Well played. Now gimme my cupcake.”

Handing her the paper bag, Penelope had already taken hers and was slowly eating each sprinkle one by one from the frosting. Orla inhaled deeply. “Blueberry?”

“With white chocolate chunks.”

She blinked slowly. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know.” I smiled, wanting nothing more than to touch her. To stroke the loose strand of hair behind her ear, to lock her fingers with my own, to feel her smile against my lips. “There’s something else in there for you. A birthday present.”

Her fingers slowly pulled out the sheet of paper within the bag. “My birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”

My heartbeat thrummed through my entire body as I watched her read the paper once, then twice, then a third time.

Doubt trickled through me like rain on a hot summer’s day.

What if I’d done the wrong thing? What if she hated it?

“Is this a joke?” she asked quietly. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real. The three of us leave tonight.” I toed the carpet awkwardly, unsure if I’d just made the colossal mistake of a lifetime. “Only if you want, of course, I mean it’s no big deal if you don’t want to.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, grey eyes found mine and a smile warmer than a desert broke across her breathtaking face. “We’re going to Ireland?”

“Happy early Birthday, Pixie.”

When Orla threw her arms around me, I tossed away my own rules and buried my face into her soft hair. Holding her in my arms, inhaling her perfume and shampoo, it felt right.

She felt right.

And I wanted to do everything in my power to keep it so that she stayed in my arms, and only my arms, forever.

The only thing more beautiful about Ireland was seeing Orla blossom to life in her home island.

Though she claimed it was due to the long flights, I could practically taste the nerves radiating off her when we landed.

I understood what it was like coming back to a home, a place that held a mixture of both happy and gut-wrenching memories. When I accepted my place at the University of Toronto, I didn’t step a single toe back into Monaco until Penelope appeared.

In my eyes, there was nothing left in Monaco, and if it weren’t for my Grand-mère, I’d have happily kept it that way.

It was a place of agonizing memories, shattered childhoods, and an echo of a young boy crying out for his maman.

Monaco stopped being my home the second my maman left this world.

When Dr. Dickhead heard me say that, he expressed that I had unhealed childhood trauma and that with time I could learn to fall back in love with the place that held so many good memories of my maman.

Maybe he was right.

But one problem to be fixed at a time.

Orla, however, shed her nervousness with each raindrop landing on her cheeks outside Belfast International Airport.

Watching her embrace the cool air, the rain soaking her long blond locks, her eyes dancing with a combination of joy and sadness, I etched the sight into my memories.

It was official.

I was so fucking in love with her.

“Do you have a bucket list?” Orla asked, getting into the passenger seat of our rental car.

I checked that Penelope’s seatbelt was still in place in the rear-view mirror. “I think I had one back in university, but I don’t really remember what I wrote on it.”

“That makes sense, it’s been like a bazillion years since then.”

“We’re making old jokes now?”

“Did you etch your list into a slab of stone, or were they using quills and parchment by then?”

I leaned across and pinched her knee. “Haven’t you learned what happens when you run that wicked mouth of yours?”

She rolled her tongue along her bottom lip, and by fuck my cock jumped eagerly to attention. “Maybe I need another lesson.”

My hand bunched the material of her knee-length skirt, pulling it beyond her knee and revealing the peachy skin of her inner thighs.

Merde, my fingers itched to travel further up. My cock strained painfully against my zipper as Orla’s breath hitched.

Six weeks — six looooong fucking weeks since I laid a single finger on her, and it turned out it wasn’t just me who was in desperate need to rectify that.

Trust me, it wasn’t my idea to abstain from touching her, fucking her, hearing her whimper and moan my name while I was buried deep inside her, but rather my ridiculously expensive therapist’s suggestion.

Nothing physical until I was ready to emotionally commit.

It was a rule I wanted to ignore, but when I mentioned it to Orla, she wholeheartedly agreed with him.

And now the two of us were paying the price.

Orla cleared her throat. “You’ve ticked four things off my bucket list so far, I feel like it’s only fair I start helping you with yours.”

“Four?”

“Visiting the French Riviera and swimming in the ocean, that’s two. Now we are back in Ireland, which is number three.” The corner of her lip disappeared between her teeth as her voice lowered and she opened her legs ever so slightly. “And being throat-fucked was number four.”

She was going to be the end of me, and boy, would I die with a smile on my face.

It made me wonder how many other dirty things were on her so-called bucket list, and if it weren’t for young, impressionable ears in the backseat of the car, I’d have made her tell me in great detail each and every one.

“So, tell me something on yours,” she said. “Try and think back to all those years ago, when things were still in black and white.”

I pinched her again, this time higher and dangerously close to the front of her underwear.

“You don’t have to worry,” she smirked. “It turns out I have a serious thing for older men. A recent discovery, really. Especially a certain hot, French-speaking, older man.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s hard not to love him, even with his horrible ice cream flavor choice.” She grinned, her hand resting atop mine that was a teasing whisper away from her cunt. “You’ve done so much for me, let me try and do something for you.”

How little she realized that she’d already done so much for me.

She was the reason I pictured a life I’d denied myself imagining for far too long.

“How about we make a new one for me?” I suggested. “Then you can help me tick it off one by one?”

She clapped her hands together and pulled out her phone. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve already thought of at least forty things we can put on it for you.”

“Forty?” I exclaimed with a laugh. “What has that twisted mind of yours come up with?”

“It’s going to be fun.” Her grin turned feral. “And don’t worry, only half of them include nudity and you wearing a cowboy hat.”

By the time we reached the hotel in Enniskillen, the three of us were dead on our feet.

Lugging the suitcases up to the penthouse suite, Penelope didn’t put up a fight as I tucked her into bed and fell asleep within the first three sentences of me yawning my way through her bedtime story.

“What room do you want?” Orla asked. “Because I’m not too tired to fight you for the one with the view of the lough.”

“Isn’t that the room with the hot tub on the balcony?”

Orla shrugged innocently. “I didn’t notice.”

“Sure you didn’t,” I chuckled, grabbing her suitcase and walking toward the room. “You can have it.”

“Only if you don’t want it,” she said sweetly, following me. “We could always play rock, paper, scissors for it.”

“It’s fine, but be warned, I will be in that hot tub during our stay. Not a chance I’m letting you have that all to yourself.” I set her case down. “I’ll be in the room overlooking the golf course.”

Turning to leave, Orla’s frame lingered in the doorway. She toyed with a strand of hair, her eyes flickering between me and the bed. “Or you could stay here with me.”

Yes-fucking-please.

“I…”

“Just sleep, nothing more, I promise,” she said quietly. “And we can set an alarm to get up before Pen, that way she doesn’t ask questions.”

There was nothing I wanted more than to get into that bed beside her, to bury and fold myself around her — and to hear her say it? It was music to my ears.

Although Orla was giving me the time I asked for, truthfully, I missed her more than I thought was humanly possible.

I missed the feel of her close to me, the way our bodies slotted together perfectly, her lips on mine, and her ability to chase away my sleepless nights just by falling asleep next to me.

“I’m sorry,” Orla said softly. “That wasn’t fair of me suggesting that.”

“Please don’t apologize.” I stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing more on this earth that I want than to stay here with you tonight.”

Her throat bobbed. “What about your therapist’s no touching until you can emotionally commit rule?”

“Like you said, we’ll just sleep.” I held my hands up. “I won’t touch you, scout’s honor.”

“And Penelope?”

“If she asks, I will explain exactly what is going on.”

She remained rooted to the spot. “Which is?”

“That every day I spend with you, ma chérie , is like coming up for fresh air. It’s like I’ve been willingly and ignorantly drowning all these years.

” I stared straight into her unblinking gaze.

“I’ll tell her that she will always be my sunshine, but Orla, you are my moon and my stars.

The two of you are the lights guiding me out of the darkness. ”