"Nothing. Just... thank you."
I want to kiss her. Want to back her against the railing and claim her mouth until she moans my name. Instead, I step away.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be complicated enough."
I lie awake on the couch, listening to Sorcha move around my bedroom. Water running in the bathroom. Dresser drawers opening as she searches for something to sleep in. The soft rustle of clothing being removed.
My cock hardens as I imagine her undressing in my space, surrounded by my scent. Sliding between my sheets wearing nothing but?—
"Eamon?" Her voice carries from the bedroom doorway.
I sit up, and my breath catches. She stands there in one of my t-shirts, the fabric falling mid-thigh. Her legs are bare, hair loose around her shoulders.
"I couldn't find pajamas in my bag," she says. "I hope you don't mind."
Mind? I'm fighting every instinct not to cross this room and strip that shirt off her body.
"It's fine," I manage.
She doesn't move. Just stands there watching me with an expression I can't read.
"The bed's too big," she says quietly. "Feels empty."
Dangerous words. Dangerous territory.
"You'll get used to it."
"Will I?" She takes a step closer. "Or is this just another way of protecting me?"
I stand up, closing the distance between us. "What are you asking, Sorcha?"
"I'm asking if you're going to make me sleep alone when we both know neither of us wants that."
My control snaps. I reach for her, one hand tangling in her hair as I back her against the wall. My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry and demanding.
She responds immediately, her arms winding around my neck as she opens for me. I taste whiskey and desire on her tongue, feel her body arch against mine.
"This is a bad idea," I growl against her lips.
"Probably." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Do it anyway."
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom. My bedroom. My bed. Where she belongs.
I lay her down, following her onto the mattress. My shirt rides up her thighs as I settle between her legs, the thin cotton the only barrier between us.
"Tell me to stop," I say, even as my hands slide under the fabric to find warm skin.
"No." Her hips rock against mine. "Don't stop."
I push the shirt up, exposing her breasts to my hungry gaze. Perfect. Mine.
My mouth finds her nipple, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me to her as I worship her body with lips and teeth and tongue.
"Eamon," she gasps as I trail kisses down her stomach. "Please."
"Please what?" I hook my fingers in her panties, dragging them down her legs. "Tell me what you want."
"You. I want you."
