“A one-night stand shortly after my mom died. Not one of my finest moments. And before you ask, before that was high school. I had a boyfriend during my junior year. Brandon. He was super sweet, so kind. It was instalove for both of us. He was my first.”
Padraig frowned. “Just three lovers?”
Emmy really didn’t want to answer that question, though her silence seemed to do so for her.
Of course, so did the math.
“Em,” he said, her name coming out as breath, not sound. She hated it. Hated thinking he thought her too innocent, too inexperienced.
“My mom got sick. ALS is…I couldn’t leave her alone. I didn’t want to leave her alone. Then, well…shit kept falling apart all around me. My dad’s heart attack, Sam coming home, then going to jail. Then I hit The New York Times best seller list and walked into Pat’s Pub and…”
“And we met.”
She nodded, reaching hard for humor. “Fast-forward two years later, and here we are.”
Padraig didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. “Did you stop dating because of me, Emmy?”
She really didn’t want to answer that.
“You did,” he said, saving her from having to come up with a response.
“Not intentionally. Honest. It just sort of turned out that way. And I don’t want you to think it’s been a hardship,” she said. “Because I’ve actually had mad, passionate sex hundreds of times over the past few years. It’s just been with…” She wiggled her eyebrows, letting him fill in the blanks.
This time, Padraig did chuckle. “Those fictional characters you’re in love with. What were their names again? Jamie, Ian, and…?”
“Eric,” she joked. “Plus, some really good toys.”
“Okay then,” he said, lifting her off his lap, then grasping her hand to pull her up, until the two of them were standing by the couch. “No making out.”
“Wait. What?” Emmy was ready to put her foot down. Hard.
However, rather than reply, Padraig tightened his grip on her hand and led her down the hallway to her bedroom. Since they were headed in the right direction, she didn’t make a fuss.
He kicked the door closed when it was apparent her cats were planning to join them.
“They won’t like that,” she murmured.
“Tough.”
“No making out?” she asked.
“No. I want to make love to you, Emmy.”
7
“Oh,” Emmy said on a sigh. “Okay. Yeah.”
Padraig smiled briefly, then pulled her into his arms, resuming the kisses they’d shared all night. Now that he’d opened the door and let her in, he couldn’t stop touching her, tasting her.
Her confession about her limited sexual history—and partners—hadn’t shocked him as much as she might have thought. If there was anything he’d learned about Emmy over the last two years, it was that she wasn’t the type of woman who viewed sex as merely a physical act. For her, sex and love went hand in hand.
He could see it in the way she hung voraciously on every word and action of his cousins and brother as they’d fallen in love with their soul mates. In the beginning, she’d pretended to type on her laptop while eavesdropping on his conversations, something he’d teased her about quite a bit.
When it became obvious she was listening in, he started asking if she agreed with the relationship advice he’d offered Leo—who was falling hard for Yvonne—and Finn—who was struggling to come to grips that he was in love with both Layla and Miguel.
Eventually, his family actually started turning to her for romance advice. It was Emmy who’d told Colm exactly where he’d gone wrong when trying to win Kelli’s heart.
And if that wasn’t enough to prove sex was synonymous with love for Emmy, it was driven home when she admitted to being in love with the fictional characters she fantasized about. She couldn’t even masturbate without love figuring into the equation.
When he considered all that, he decided that was probably why she was such a successful romance writer.
After several minutes, he broke the kiss. “I want to see you,” he murmured, reaching for the buttons of her blouse. He’d already undone the top three, revealing her pretty white lace bra.
Emmy was half a foot shorter than him, her body slender. Her breasts weren’t large, but they weren’t small either. In his mind, they were just right.
Once he finished unbuttoning her blouse, he slid it off her arms. He ran the back of his fingers over the tops of her breasts once more, enjoying the way she shivered, her eyes drifting shut under the impact of her arousal.
He ran his lips along her soft cheek, then nipped at her earlobe, provoking a breathy laugh.
Reaching around her, he unfastened her bra and pulled it off.
He expected her to be shy with him, but Emmy was made of sterner stuff. Rather than blush or try to hide herself, she simply stood before him, letting him look his fill.
Lowering his head, he took one of her tight nipples into his mouth, sucking on it as she arched her back and moaned. Then he repeated the action on the other.
Emmy’s hands made their way to the back of his head, her fingers grasping his hair, tugging.
When he lifted his head again, she wasted no time moving them to the next part. She gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Like him, she paused, wanting to look as much as touch.
He sucked in a breath when she ran her finger over the tiny heart tattooed on the left side of his chest, Mia’s name in the middle of it. Her gaze captured his.
“She’s a part of me,” he said, his voice low, wondering what she thought of the tattoo. Last Sunday, she’d said more than a few times that she admired Mia, that she wished she’d gotten the chance to meet her.
Padraig had been touched by that.
“The people we’ve loved and lost will always be a part of us, Paddy. Mia helped mold you into the man you are today. The one I adore. Just like my parents helped shape me. I don’t think you and I would be here together if not for our lives with them.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and let her words soak deep. She always knew exactly what to say. “Emmy,” he whispered.
“I love the tattoo, love that you had Mia in your life. I’m sorry it was for such a short time.”
He swallowed deeply, then hugged her because it was absolutely impossible not to in that moment. He needed her in his arms like he needed his next breath. The hug ended when he felt her fingers at the button of his jeans.
Padraig shifted away so that he could watch her. She unfastened his jeans and then he took over, shoving them and his boxers down, toeing off his shoes.
Her gaze remained on his erection, and an adorable grin filled her face.
“That looks like way more fun than my vibrator,” she joked.
Padraig laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Then he reached over, helping her out of her own jeans and panties. “Sit on the side of the bed.”
Emmy did as he asked, then started to move back to make room for him.
He shook his head. “No. Stay right there.”
Emmy gasped when he knelt on the floor in front of her, parting her thighs and tugging until her ass was at the edge of the mattress.