This little fact has me giggling so much, I have to sit on the couch.Teagan plops down next to me, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“Did you know he and Norah were taking Salsa lessons at the rec center?” I ask between outbursts.
His eyes widen in surprise. “No fucking way.”
“I’m so serious,” I wheeze out. “Norah said he’s aterribledancer! But so is she, so they really are perfect for each other!”
Now Teagan is laughing right along with me, which only makes us both laugh harder. It takes a few minutes for us to get control of ourselves, but eventually, the giggles taper into the occasional chuckle.
“Thank God he’s good on the pitch at least,” Teagan says. “You’d think with as talented as he is with a ball, he’d be able to do basic dance routines.”
“He doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys dancing anyway,” I reply.
“Nah, he’d rather play the music than move to it.”
“Speaking of,” I start. “How long has the Irish trio been playing together?”
“Football?” He looks completely baffled.
“No, music! I’ve seen you play at Paddy’s.”
The three of them are frequently requested to play at O’Nelly’s Irish Pub. Teagan usually plays the harmonica or banjo, Eamon is on guitar and lead vocals, while Ro plays violin.
“Oh right. We didn’t start playing music together until sophomore year. Our first year in the States was spent in survival mode—learning a new culture, bonding with the other Seahawks, stuff like that, yeah?”
“Did you play as a kid?” I ask.
Teagan leans back on the couch as he throws an arm around my shoulders, tugging me close beside him.
“A bit. My Mum put me in lessons when I was a wee wan. I enjoyed it, but I didn’t really have an interest in playing in front of anyone until Paddy’s. Even now, my skills don’t go past basic pub songs.”
It’s fascinating to hear about Teagan’s upbringing. It was so different from mine. My family is affectionate to a fault and wants to be completely involved in everything, while it sounds like Teagan’s parents were very hands-off and less nurturing. I’m amazed that he’s as sweet and tenderhearted as he is when his siblings sound just as aloof as his mom and dad.
We stay snuggled on the couch for a little bit longer before I ask if he wants to join me in the hot tub.
Teagan jumps up so quickly that I practically topple over to where he was sitting. Holding a hand out to me, he says, “Aye. Do I ever.”
Teagan
“Want to get in the hot tub?” Layla asks out of nowhere.
I’m immediately hit with the image of her in a bathing suit, and my mouth goes dry. I’ve seen her naked. My lips have kissed every inch of her, but I’m still chomping at the bit to see her in a strappy garment—one that only covers a fraction of her skin. Leaping from the couch, I extend my hand.
“Aye. Do I ever.”
Layla laughs, her eyes sparkling. She places her hand in mine and I pull her into my arms, kissing her forehead before leading her back to the bedroom. After digging in her suitcase, she pulls out something white and shuts herself in the bathroom. I quickly shuck my clothes, pull on my black swim trunks, then sit on the edge of the bed. When I hear the door open, I look up and feel all the air leave my lungs.
Goddamn.
Layla stands there in a white, triangular bikini top and high-waisted bottoms with strings on the sides making a lattice pattern. She’s put her hair into a messy knot on top of her head. It’s hot as fuck, but I prefer her hair down for the sole purpose of wrapping it around my hand to guide her where I want her.
Letting out a low whistle, I rise from the bed and prowl towards her. When we’re only inches apart, I brush the knuckle of my index finger over the swell of her breast, watching as goose flesh spreads over her skin.
“This,” I say, lifting my eyes to hers, “looks amazing on you.”
“Thank you,” she mutters, looking away in what appears to be embarrassment.
I can’t have that, so I grip her chin firmly between my thumb and forefinger, guiding her face back.
