Selkie's Song (Fado Trilogy) (18 page)

“You make up for your lack by having the longest, most lovely legs,” he said as he drew a line with his index finger from the concave curve of her belly, down the inside of her thigh to the back of her knee and up again to her hip. “I want them wrapped around me.”

Muireann instinctively squeezed her pelvic muscles and pressed against Tynan’s hand. If she’d had the ability to think coherently moments earlier, the part of her brain that controlled inhibitions was now severely impaired.

“Get out of your clothes,” she said with less poise than she hoped to muster.

Ty obliged with alacrity. “Naked as a newborn here,” he stated and put his fingertips under the elastic band of her knickers. “You won’t need these for a bit.”

He pulled the ephemeral scrap of lace and elastic down her legs and dropped them on the floor. “What’s this for?” Ty reached for the bottle of Baileys and a glass she had left on her night table.

“Forgot to put it back in the cupboard.”

He poured a small amount of the caramel-colored liqueur in the glass. “Hmm, makes my imagination go wild.” Ty took a sip and then kissed her.

The residue on his lips and tongue made her want to delve deep into his mouth and lick the pungent sweetness from him. When she did, a sensation of molten energy streamed through her veins and tingled from the tips of her extremities to her core. In the warm, moist center of her, an undertow of emotions and basic physical needs coalesced.

He tipped the remaining contents of the glass and poured a thin line of sweet nectar starting with the valley between her breasts and ending below her naval. She let out a little breath of pleasure at the realization of what he planned next.

Muireann tried to hold on to reason. She didn’t like to be out of control—vulnerable. It had not kept her from fulfillment in the past, but she never needed to lose herself in the process. He would never know. The men she had known had been far too involved with their own pleasure to notice that she held that reserve. And it was easier to walk away when the time came.

But any restraint she owned headed south with her brain in a knapsack when he began licking the Baileys from her skin. Muireann’s hands found their way into his hair and pressed him closer as he suckled a burning trail down her body. When he reached the end of the path, an involuntary moan escaped her throat and she arched against the pressure of his lips on her lower belly.

In one last effort to take charge, she rolled him onto his back and held him tight against her with one leg snaked over his hip. Tynan’s eyes, brilliant blue in the light of day, were dark as night on the sea when the moon was new.

“You intoxicate me,” he said and tangled his fingers into her hair.

Muireann reached for the decanter and sipped slowly out of the bottle, holding a small amount in her mouth. She bent to him, dribbling the creamy spirit from her lips onto his body.

As she licked him clean, tasted him, salty and sweet, she couldn’t get enough to satisfy her hunger for him.

Tynan groaned, pressed her close, and slid his fingers into her moist center.

Hot streams of sensation burst inside her and she arched hard against his hand. She fought a battle with chaos as strong as the undertow of receding tide.

“Kiss me,” he said. It was a demand as well as a plea, and he covered her mouth before she could think to deny him. All reserve abolished, she opened to him and a silken tide pulled him into her depths.

Drowning. He was drowning. This time it was with a sense of bliss. He let her take him where the waters were deep, warm, and inescapable. She wrapped him in her long limbs and moved in the rhythm of waves, soft and hard. Each tidal surge would reach a peak and crash upon her with a shudder, but before the power could recede he would feel her rise again on a swell more powerful than the one before.

Muireann transformed. Was she woman or sylph? Mortal or mystery? With each accelerated breath, he plunged farther into her realm—a raging storm where he knew he would be safe or die content.

Tynan held her hard against him. Immersed, he felt tremors pulsate through his body in a maelstrom where light cleaved dark and sky merged with sea. She begged with her body for him to follow her to the precipice.

Jolts of heat poured through him, she cried out and they leapt off the edge together.

He thought he heard the sea. The ebb and rush matched the echo of his pulse as it slowed in harmony with Muireann’s ragged breaths. She was tangled around him, her limbs damp and glistening, as she was the day he first saw her emerge from the foam. Her eyes were closed and her face mirrored his sense of peace.

“
Muireann,”
he whispered. “
Mo chroi.”
My heart.
Had he allowed himself those words of endearment? Somehow it felt natural. It wasn’t hard to say, because he meant it. Ty kissed her forehead.

“Go way outta that,” she mumbled. “I can’t move.”

“You don’t need to.” He repositioned slightly so he could see her face more clearly. “How did you get so beautiful?”

Muireann chuckled. “Born that way.”

“Ah, now, and she’s humble as well.” He drew a line down her jaw with his index finger and his lips followed with feather light nibbles.

“
You
asked.” She ran her hand up his back, massaging as she went until she reached his neck and tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape. A primal sigh escaped his throat.

“I refuse to tell you how nice this was,” she said.

It would have worried him but for the slow smile that curved her lips. “Oh, and why not?”

Her laugh was wicked and low. “Because I hope it was obvious.”

Yes, he had to admit to himself, it had been clear. They were a grand match. At least here, in bed, at a physical level.

She nudged to free herself from under him. Tynan rolled to his side and tucked her into himself spoon fashion. “I have a little something to confess,” he whispered.

Muireann looked over her shoulder and gave him a half smile. “Too late.”

He snugged her closer. “I like to cuddle.” It sounded unmanly, even to himself, but it was the truth. He had never understood his male friends who couldn’t wait to flee the room or the country as soon as possible. Tynan’s mind and body needed a solid hold on something after losing himself so totally.

The problem was finding a woman with whom he had anything cogent to relate to after the rush of passion had passed.

Muireann was different. Tynan thought he could hold her in his arms like this for hours and chat about anything—music, stories of Ireland, the weather—the spectacular as well as the mundane. Granted, when the children came along…
whoa big fella. What was that thought you just let slip? Have you forgotten the plan?

This should scare him. It should scare any man. After all, shouldn’t he want to keep his freedom as long as possible? Perhaps it felt safe, because he could truly imagine himself giving up his bachelor life for this alternative.

Best not mention the scuffle of little feet or Muireann will be the one fleeing the country.

She wriggled from his arms. “I’ve gotta pee.”

“That’s not very romantic,” he chided.

“No, but it’s honest.” She sat up on the side of the bed and leaned back to kiss him on his lips. “They always leave this part out in the films.”

Ty watched the enticing wiggle of her backside as she walked away. Muireann was one of those rare women who had no shyness about her body and it showed. She tossed her hair back and strode to the bathroom like a queen to a coronation.

Any man knew this was no time to make decisions or proclamations, but Ty was at least ninety-nine percent certain he was falling in love. Okay, he’d just had his brain washed of any intelligent decision-making ability. Best not to make a fool of himself and tell her of the current ravings of his post-orgasmic mind.

Ty heard the shower plumbing shiver to life. He stood, stretched his muscles awake, and headed toward the bathroom.

She jumped at a touch on her shoulder. “Jaysus, you just took ten years off my life,” she said, her hand going to her heart.

Tynan had slipped into the shower beside her. “I thought you wouldn’t mind sharing the hot water.”

In the tight quarters, he pressed against her back and ran slick, soapy hands over her shoulders. Muireann’s knees went liquid. She turned to face him. “Works for me,” she said and kissed his mouth, skimmed her lips over his cheek, and trailed watery nibbles down his chest. Before she reached the triangle of dark hair below his navel, he stopped her.

“This is only going to get harder…uh, no pun intended…if you go any farther south.”

Muireann had no interest in his warning. Besides, she couldn’t imagine things getting any harder. She reached the shower control and dialed the water off. “I think we’re clean enough.” She grabbed a towel and started to rub him dry. Tynan did the same for her, and then gently sponged droplets of water from her cheeks.

His skin was warm, his hair was wet, and his smile devastating. Muireann thought he had an unusual vulnerability just now. It gave her a sense of power but reminded her he was the kind of man who could be easily hurt by callousness.

“Come back to your bed with me, Muireann,” Ty said as his hand glided down her back and caressed her hip, triggering an electrical sizzle that shot to her core.

She tried to quickly weigh and measure her next move and the consequences before he completely toasted her wiring.

He was the man who held title to the land she wanted. Would he simply roll over and give it up? Likely not. And was her goal here to romance it out of him? That would be slimy and not her style at all. Blood rose in her cheeks at the thought of such duplicity.

“You’re blushing,” he said and pressed a little closer. Tynan’s fingers took a ramble across her jaw, behind her right ear, and combed through her hair. The touch was familiar, intimate and made her tingle in all the places he had explored only a short time ago in her bed.

“I don’t blush,” she said. Her voice came out thin and unrecognizable to her own ears.

“And
I
don’t argue.” He brushed her lips with his.

Once again she was in his arms, wet, warm, and dizzy. She threw out her rule about being in control. It seemed foolish now and a waste of effort when all she really wanted to do was give herself up to Tynan’s hands, lips, and body.

Sated, Muireann dozed, her limbs interlaced with his. Sleep seemed the best solution to the nagging question of where this tryst would take them.

While the moon traveled toward the western horizon to be usurped by the high summer sun, she awoke to his soft breath on her neck, kissed his shoulder, stroked his back, and drifted off again. And for this brief respite, Muireann allowed herself to ponder if this was what being in love might feel like.

Chapter Sixteen

Muireann was not sure if it was the golden dapples of early sunlight playing on her eyelids or the odd sense that someone was watching her that woke her from her dream.

“I wondered when you’d come ’round,” Ty whispered.

Muireann’s pulse picked up to beat in double time. This time it wasn’t a rush of passion, but indecision that set her blood rushing.

Unfortunately, she had more than enjoyed their intimacy. She had let him take her to places she had avoided in the past. It was too easy to imagine him in her bed long after he should return to Boston.

They were going to end up hurting one another. She was certain that could be the only outcome. He held title to her heritage. Now, there was a risk of his holding title to her heart.

Caution told her she was simply overlooking some flaw in Tynan that she would discover at a later date. She had made this mistake before when passion took the place of practicality and knew it wouldn’t be a pretty sight when her brain cleared.

She wished this would be different. Perhaps there was no harm in allowing herself to believe for another day, another night. Believe he really came back only to find her. Lying here with his arms cradling her felt safe and, oh, so right.

If only she could trust that he was not in league with that devil Feeney. Was it wise to believe what he had told her last night? Or was it only desire talking?

Muireann knew she was standing on a precipitous edge. This drop was worthy of a second thought.

“Umm, what’s the matter?” Ty asked in a sleepy voice.

“Not a thing,” she lied. “I need to put some clothes on.”

He nuzzled her neck. “You taste good. Salty and sweet.”

“Like Chinese food?” she joked, but a hot bolt of yearning shot through her and sizzled the lines of communication to the rational part of her thinking. In defense, she pushed away from his embrace.

Ty rolled to his side and even in the dim light Muireann could see the worry crease his brow. She didn’t want to hurt him, but it would happen eventually.

She forced herself to stand. HHer legs felt shaky. She rummaged through her bureau until she found a pair of jogging shorts and an old hoodie with a Guinness logo emblazoned on the front.

The blood in her ears was so loud she didn’t hear him step up beside her. His hand touched her arm. He turned her to face him. “I’d like to stay with you today.”

Of course he’d like to stay, she thought. He’s just had his bell rung…more than once. No man was capable of thinking clearly at this point. He hadn’t had time for the rush of sex to settle out of his brain long enough to admit this was all temporary.

Years from now, she only hoped she could laugh over the stupidity of it all. Tynan would shed himself of ties to this village, return to his life, settle in, have a family. He wouldn’t even give her a passing thought.

Tynan pulled his jeans up his long legs and over his slim bum. She thought of stopping him, taking him back to her bed, and not letting him go.

Brakes in her mind squealed to a stop so fast she felt the whiplash up her spine. Tynan needed to go. Sure, that is the way it would be. It was inevitable.

Fine then. No harm, no foul. No one need get hurt. And along the way he might be able to help her get what she wanted.

She needed to focus on that ultimate goal. Bertie’s land. Right. That was it. That was all she would ever want or need from Tynan Sloane.