Page 19

CHAPTER 18

T aryn woke in slow increments. Languid and happy, she snuggled closer to the body heat wrapped around her. Beneath her shirt, warm, tantalizing fingers traced a lazy pattern across her abdomen, and she smiled at the deliciousness of the touch.

“Mmm,” she murmured, covering the hand with hers and lowering it to the waistband of her panties. “Magic-finger exploration should start much lower.”

Fintan’s deep chuckle made her smile. “Sure, and I was waiting for your permission, aoibhneas mo croí .” He shifted to see her expression.

“I—”

The events in the ceremony room came crashing back, and she jackknifed into a sitting position. Or as much as a sitting position as her forehead connecting with his face would allow.

“Fuck!” He fell back on the mattress beside her, cupping his nose.

“Fintan!” Taryn attempted to roll but got tangled in the sheets and flailed her arms. Her fist cracked him in the jaw. “Ohmygod! Fintan, I’m so sorry,” she cried, when he swore again.

She scrambled to her knees, but stopped short of helping him. Shock held her still.

“Um, where are my pants?”

He sat up, and the sheet fell below his waist.

“And where are yours ?” she asked with a horrified gasp. “Did we… Did you… Are you an Incubus?”

He scowled.

“I’m going to take that as a no. If we’d had sex, you’d be in a better mood,” she concluded.

“Ya hit me in the feckin’ face, Taryn-Taryn. Twice. How grand a mood do you expect me to be in?”

“Fair point. So did we?”

“No.” His reply was nothing short of surly. “You’re right. I’d be in a better mood.”

She giggled.

A lopsided smile curled his mouth. “The pants you’re seekin’ are on the chair behind ya. I assumed you’d be more comfortable sleepin’ without your jeans.”

“You’re a prince among men, Fintan Sullivan.” Only inches away, it seemed natural to kiss him for his thoughtfulness. Leaning in, she brushed his nose with hers, then lightly bussed his lips.

“Don’t be spreadin’ vicious rumors,” he murmured against her mouth before nipping her lip.

“Oh, I intend to tell the entire world. Boy-band alumni, Fintan Sullivan, appears like a grumpy shit, but he’s actually the sweetest man you’ll ever meet?—”

Taryn ended on a scream as he tackled her.

“It wasn’t a feckin’ boy band!”

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like teasing anymore. There were questions she needed answered.

“Seriously, about your Siren, what happened downstairs?” she asked.

His face darkened, and he delayed answering to brush her hair from her cheek. His hesitancy made her take stock of her body. Other than relaxed, she wasn’t sore where it counted, meaning the thing had left her unmolested after she passed out.

“Fintan?”

“Aye, it didn’t hurt you, love.”

“That’s a good thing. So why are you so serious?”

“I’ve felt it struggling to get free since I visited your home, but I thought I had control. It snapped the chain before I could stop it,” he said.

“And that bothers you.”

“Aye. I’ve told you. It wants you for its own.” Solemn, he met her eyes. “The vision of your grave haunts me, every feckin’ minute of the day. What if my monster is the one to cause your death?”

“I didn’t truly fear him, and I don’t think he’s as bad as you believe. The Incubus, if he ever is born, maybe, but not your Siren.” She wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed her pelvis to his, smiling when she felt his arousal. Despite his worry, his desire for her hadn’t diminished. “He didn’t want to hurt me, Fintan. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”

“Ya can’t.”

“I can.” Taryn traced his furrowed brow. “He was teasing me with the humming. The laughter in his eyes and his playful grin said as much.” When he still didn’t seem convinced, she asked, “How long was I unconscious? When did you return to your body?”

“It took a long minute, to be sure. He was guardin’ you like a feckin’ mastiff.”

“See? If he wanted to hurt me or steal my magic, he could’ve. But he is a version of you, Fintan. He knows right from wrong.”

“No, and never mistake that he does, Taryn-Taryn. If the craving were strong enough, he’d have been on ya.”

“Well, now I feel unwanted and totally rejected.”

Fintan arched his back, pressing his erection against her, and arched a brow. “Then ya clearly have no feeling below your waist.”

She compressed her lips to keep from laughing.

“You confessed to lovin’ me,” he said, with a satisfied air.

“When?” Taryn tried to recall their conversation since waking. “I didn’t?—”

“You told me Siren.”

Had she? When?

“Stop this!” she ordered. “I love Fintan, and ? —”

The scene popped into her mind, but the view was of her upset visage, with pleading eyes.

Fintan’s memory, not hers!

“You were there?” she asked.

“Aye, below the surface. I could hear and see everything.”

“You weren’t egging him on?”

“I don’t know what that means,” he admitted.

“Encouraging him.”

“Ach, no! I wasn’t eggin’ him on, love. He wanted your confession for himself.”

His sincerity was annoying. If she had the slightest inclination he was messing with her, she’d read him the riot act and be on her way. But his energy was genuine, and she was left confused about what she should do. Admitting she loved him wasn’t something she was prepared for at this juncture.

“It’s all right, aoibhneas mo croí . I’ll not push it.”

Fintan shifted, intending to pull away.

Taryn tightened her legs, locking him against her. “I do love you, but I’m afraid of getting hurt.”

“Aye. And I’m afraid of hurtin’ ya, but it won’t be because I don’t love you back. And it won’t be because I’m not going to try me feckin’ best to make you happy.”

“Like I said, I’m not scared of your Siren.”

The truth was laid bare between them.

Their mental link pulsed, humming, as if energy flowed through, making it stronger.

“He loves you, too, Taryn-Taryn.”

“Maybe don’t tell him, but I might have a soft spot for him also.”

Fintan’s grin held no sign of the vampire-like fangs of the creature, but the humor behind the gesture was the same.

“So, I’ll be hearin’ it from you again.”

She pretended ignorance. “What’s that?”

He sat back on his heels and rested his hands on her knees.

“I think ya know.” Running his fingers along her outer thigh, he hooked them around the waistband of her bikini briefs and inched them downward. He paused before uncovering her mound. “You’ll need to say it if you want another five-note orgasm, love.”

“I don’t know if I can handle another one. It took me”—she frowned—“How long was I out? You never said.”

“About two hours after I broke free. I don’t know how long that actually took.”

“Two hours? Huh. I guess that means I’m rested enough.”

He chuckled, low, sexy, and full of promise, causing her stomach to clench. “Two hours is a mighty long time for me to resist your charms, love. I should be receivin’ a feckin’ medal for heroism in the face of all that temptation lyin’ half naked in me bed.”

“Should I conjure one for you?”

“Sure, and I wouldn’t reject it.” He dipped his head, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen. “A reward’s a reward.”

Taryn huffed a laugh. “So you’re saying we have two hours to make up for?”

“Aye. Two hours of lovemakin’ is long enough to be rewardin’ me for not takin’ full advantage. But if we run over, I won’t be complainin’.”

She bucked against him, enjoying the heat of his mouth and the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. “Stop stalling.”

He lifted his head, and wicked intent glinted in his eyes.

But he didn’t rush.

Hell no! He crawled up her body and kissed her like he had nowhere else to be. Slow, deep, exploratory. His mouth teased hers open, tongue sliding in with unhurried confidence, coaxing a moan from her throat. She sank her hands into his hair, anchoring him there. The connection was electric, and their bond hummed like a tuning fork struck too hard.

Her skin felt tight and too small to contain the building pressure.

“You say stallin’. I say takin’ me time and doin’ it right.”

“Mm. From what I remember, you always managed to get it right.” She pressed the back of her hand to her brow and affected a thoughtful pose. “But my memory is foggy because it was so, so long ago.”

He nibbled a path along her jaw, nipping gently at her chin, then down her throat to where her pulse thundered and gave her away.

“So it’s a reminder, you’re needin’?” he asked. His gravelly growl tickled low in her belly.

“Yes, that might be nice.” Taryn traced the curve of his naked back, a muscled marvel.

Fintan bent and pressed his lips to her inner thigh, warm breath fanning over sensitive skin as he worked her underwear down her legs.

“Tell me. Do you remember this, aoibhneas mo croí ?” His hot mouth closed over her.

“Goddess, yes!” A thread of need wrapped around her. “I remember everything about you, Fintan. About us.”

His gaze locked on hers as he kissed his way across her stomach, the curve of her ribs, the center of her chest, and upward. When he reached her mouth, he hovered there, his lips a breath away.

“Should we start a timer?” he teased.

Comprehension escaped her. “For what?”

“Two hours from now.”

“Shut up and get to snogging,” she growled.

Their mouths met, and this time, it wasn’t teasing or tentative. It was hungry but reverent, and laced with everything they hadn’t dared say out loud.

His weight settled over her as her thighs parted, welcoming him closer, and she felt the hard press of him between them. Her breath caught as he stroked her, fingertips lightly dragging over her bare skin as if he intended to memorize the shape of her. When he finally slid his fingers lower, finding her slick and ready, she rocked into him with a soft curse.

“Fintan…”

He worked her with slow, deliberate precision. Circling, teasing, dipping. Never too much, never too little. Just enough to keep her on edge. She writhed beneath him, her hips lifting of their own accord, chasing the pressure, and her world narrowed to sensation.

She mapped the grooves of his spine and dug in as he rolled his hips to find the right alignment. When he finally entered her, it was a slow slide that stole her breath and made her toes curl.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

“This…” He braced himself above her, forehead to forehead, his breath ragged. “This feels like comin’ home, aoibhneas mo croí .”

“Yes.” Taryn pulled him in for another kiss. “And I never want to leave.”

“I never want ya to, either.”

He moved in a deep, deliberate rhythm that made her body rise to meet his without conscious thought. Their magic pulsed with each stroke, heat building between them like a live current. Her nails raked lightly over his shoulders, anchoring her against the storm building inside her.

But he didn’t give her what she expected. Not yet.

Fintan’s mouth found her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, anywhere he could reach and still stay sheathed within her warmth.

“I know this is new for you.”

She snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”

“Shhh, woman. I’m tryin’ to have an honest moment here, yeah?”

Taryn mimed zipping her lip, then ruined it with a grin and a grab.

He stilled her hand.

“It’s not the sex that’s new, Taryn-Taryn. It’s the trust.” He brushed a kiss on her cheekbone, his voice quieter now. “And I aim to prove it’s worth it. That we’re worth a second chance.”

Her love—bold, bright, and more magical than anything he’d ever experienced—blasted through their link, embracing him but ruining him at the same time.

Fated mates were gifted with bonds like theirs, and he expected, no matter how long he lived, he’d never feel this close to another. Never desire another woman with the intensity he felt for Taryn.

“I feel exactly the same,” she whispered, staring at him with something akin to awe.

He nodded slowly, forehead resting against hers. “Aye, and I’ll earn every second you share with me. I’ll never stop strivin’ to make ya happy, Taryn-Taryn. I promise.”

There was no more talking after that.

Fintan kissed her again—deeper this time, hungrier. Positioned between her thighs, one of his hands cradled her hip, and he slid the other up her side to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and he sent a magical pulse across the delicate flesh.

She gasped into his mouth, causing his grin.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Every fuckin’ inch of you.”

Taryn moaned, her back arching toward him as his mouth closed over the tight bud.

“Fintan,” she breathed.

Pulling out, he shifted lower to taste her. He flicked his tongue, stroked, circled, and suckled with maddening control. His hands pinned her writhing hips as he tasted his fill. Relentless and focused, like worship was a sacred act and her body his altar. When her fingers clawed the sheets and her legs trembled, he spread her wider, accessing more. There wasn’t a part of her he left untouched.

Taryn’s sexy, ragged little pants were raw and desperate. Music to his ears. And when her orgasm hit, it tore through them both, hotter and faster than lightning. Her body clamped down, shaking beneath him, but Fintan didn’t stop. He licked and soothed her until she was gasping, trembling, claiming she was too sensitive to bear another touch.

He chuckled against her inner thigh and trailed the lightest of kisses up her smooth belly.

“Dude.” Her fingers wound in his hair, and she forcefully urged him upward. “Holy hell, Sullivan.”

“Don’t be thinkin’ we’re done, love.”

“I’d cut a bitch if we were.”

With a chuckle, Fintan sucked her lower lip. “When did ya become so aggressive?”

“You don’t want to know.” She caressed down his neck and the line of his shoulders as she trailed the movement with her gaze. “You’ve filled out more than I would’ve expected.”

Fintan nodded. “No longer a boy.”

“Mm.”

“Ya sound sad.”

“I am. I missed seeing you mature. In a way, it feels like I’m meeting you again for the first time.”

He smiled lazily against her mouth as he thumbed the hardened tip of her nipple. “I feckin’ love how you’ve matured, too, Taryn-Taryn..”

She laughed, breathless, and he felt it to the base of his cock.

Eyes locked on his, she said, “If you don’t move, I’m going to flip us over and do it myself.”

Fintan growled in approval and slid inside, slow and measured. And she took every inch.

Taryn gasped, clinging to his shoulders as her body adjusted around him. She was hot and perfect, and he filled her in a way that left no space for thought. Once fully seated, he paused to enjoy her pleasure through their connection, allowing her to feel his.

Then he began to move in a steady, rolling rhythm that drove them both crazy with the buildup. Every time he pulled out and thrust back in, it was like striking a match. With each stroke, they burned hotter than before. Moving together, their bodies were two halves of a whole reuniting. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered word fed through the link between them and carried them closer to their goal.

Fintan shifted, angling deeper, and Taryn cried out. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, locking her sweat-slicked body with his. Their rhythm turned frantic, desperate.

Her second climax was deeper, full-bodied. When it hit, she shattered with a sob, tightened her legs around his hips, and rocked her pelvis hard against his, as if determined he should feel what she did.

And he did. Seconds later, he followed her over the edge, and her name was torn from his lips as he pulsed inside her, hips grinding to prolong the moment.

After, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and breath, the room spinning around them.

When he was able to catch his breath, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. “If you ever go, you’ll break me, aoibhneas mo croí .”