She leaned up, kissing him rather than responding. It was the first kiss she’d initiated, and Padraig let her control it, let her explore his lips at her leisure. She felt the heat from his breath, tasted the bitterness from the Guinness he’d been sipping, loved the way his hands stroked her back firmly, holding her as if he’d never let her go.
“Emmy,” he murmured against her lips. “We better go back out to the pub, or this is going to go too far in a room with no lock. Besides, our first time is not going to be in a storage closet.”
“Should we ask to use Ewan’s office? Since it’s classier and all.”
Padraig laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Nope. Our first time is going to be in a bedroom. We’ll christen the pub later.”
She giggled, then tucked her blouse back into her jeans before accepting the hand he proffered.
They walked back out to the pub, and Emmy blushed slightly when she realized practically every member of the Collins family had noted their return and the fact Padraig was holding her hand.
Padraig’s Pop Pop raised his Guinness to her in a silent toast, winking at her as he did so.
Emmy started for the bar, ready to claim her spot at the end, but Padraig tugged her in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“Colm said he’d work the bar for me tonight. Thought it might be nice if we actually got to sit together rather than separated by that counter.”
He purposely led her to the booth she’d shared with Joe earlier, claiming the other man’s place with a shit-eating grin.
Emmy glanced across the room and spotted Joe watching them. He was smiling widely, obviously pleased with himself, and that was when she realized all his flirting had been done simply to provoke a response from Padraig.
He’d followed through on his promise to make her a very happy woman.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
He gave her a thumbs-up, then turned his attention back to the conversation at his table.
Teagan and Sky took the stage, and the rest of the night felt like something out of a dream.
The two of them danced, ate, drank, and laughed with reckless abandon, as every member of the family found a moment to stop by their table to chat.
Sunnie and Kelli had cornered her in the bathroom at one point, and she’d told them that Padraig had asked her out on a date. The three of them squealed like teenage girls in high school, laughing at themselves for their ridiculous behavior afterwards.
She and Padraig remained at the pub until the wee hours, closing the place down with Tris and Colm. Then, Padraig walked her to her apartment, his arm wrapped around her waist, tucking her close to share his body heat since the night was brutally cold.
Once they arrived, she dug into her purse for her keys, her heart racing, as she internally debated if she should ask him in for coffee…or sex.
She wanted to. Desperately. But she wasn’t sure if he would think she was rushing things.
“Invite me in,” Padraig murmured as she put the key in the lock. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.
“Come in.”
She opened the door and his grip tightened as he walked inside with her, the two of them connected. Then he pushed the door closed and flipped the lock.
“If you think I’m going too fast, tell me now and I’ll leave, Em.”
She laughed, the sound breathy and—dammit—nervous. Regardless, she shook her head. “I was afraid you would think I was rushing things. I…”
The rest of her words never materialized because she forgot how to speak. Padraig turned her to face away from him so he could pull her coat off and drop it to the floor. The entire time, his lips traced a sensual line of kisses along her neck.
Emmy’s head fell to the side, her eyes drifting closed as she was swept away by the incredible pleasure his kisses provoked.
“God,” she whispered. “Paddy.”
“You’re so beautiful, Emmy.”
She shifted, turning in his arms. Her intention had been to kiss him, but the moment their gazes locked, they both froze, lost in each other’s eyes. She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t convince herself this was really happening.
Padraig ran his knuckles softly down her cheek. “So beautiful,” he murmured. He kissed her once more, then again, and again. “Want to make out on the couch?”
“Oh my God, yeah. I do.”
Everything was so easy with Padraig. It always had been. Right from the beginning.
The two of them walked into the living room, sitting together on the couch. She sat facing him, but he shook his head. “You’re too far away.”
Reaching for her, he pulled until she was straddling his lap, their faces a mere inch apart.
“That’s better,” he said, as he started kissing her once more.
They’d shared no less than a hundred kisses since he’d pulled her into the storage closet. It seemed as if neither of them could stop, now that they’d started. Less than a few hours in, and she was already addicted to Padraig’s lips.
Because he kissed her like it mattered.
Like she mattered.
She’d spent all of her adult life writing about romance, immersing herself in feelings she’d experienced far too infrequently but constantly longed for. Then she considered all the kisses she’d described in her romance novels. How she’d imagined what they might feel like so that she could find a way to put them into words.
There were no words for the way Padraig’s kisses made her feel. At least none that came even close to the surfeit of emotions swimming through her at the moment.
Consumed.
Caressed.
Cherished.
Devoured.
And horny.
Mainly horny.
She grinned to herself when that word—probably the least romantic of them all—took root and emerged as the winner.
Padraig pulled away and gave her a quizzical look. “Something funny?”
She shook her head, unwilling to confess where her thoughts had taken her. “No. It’s just…my happiness keeps slipping out.”
Padraig chuckled. “Mine too.”
Rather than resume the kiss, Padraig’s gaze drifted lower, his fingers slipping the first button on her blouse free, then the second, and the third.
She sucked in an unsteady breath, nerves and arousal battling for dominance at the moment. The sound drew Padraig’s attention and, after that, his eyes remained on her face as his fingers drifted down the side of her throat and lower, caressing the top of her breasts.
She took another wobbly breath, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
“It’s been a long time,” she whispered.
He kept touching her softly, his fingers stroking. “How long?”
She silently cursed herself for saying anything at all. “Um…” She pretended to think about it even though she knew exactly how long.
Padraig wasn’t fooled by her stalling techniques and he lifted his hand, taking away those lovely, sweet touches. “How long?” he repeated.
“Four years.”
He stilled for a moment. “Four years?”
She nodded.
“Boyfriend?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. Just a guy I was seeing off and on.”
“And before that?”