"It's not always like this," I admit. "Dublin can be rough. Especially my side of it. But there are moments like this, when it feels peaceful. Quiet."
She looks up at me, and in the dim light from the street lamps, her eyes are luminous. "You're different here. More relaxed."
"Maybe." I stop walking, turning to face her fully. "Or maybe it's you."
"Me?" She sounds surprised.
"You make me want to be different," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. "Better. Less of the man the Council made me and more of... I don't know. Someone who deserves you."
Her breath catches, and she reaches up, her hand touching my cheek. "Sean..."
I cover her hand with mine, holding it against my face. "I know I've been a bastard to you. Pushing you away, treating you like you're a burden when you're anything but. I'm not good at this. At feelings. At being a husband. But… I could try. Try to… try.” I’m stumbling over my words now, feeling like a fool, and I can feel heat creeping up my neck until, suddenly, Maeve saves me.
"I want that too," she whispers, and then she's rising up on her toes, and I'm bending down, and our lips meet in a kiss that's softer than the one last night, more tentative, like we're bothafraid of breaking this fragile thing between us. This moment that, I feel suddenly, couldn’t have happened anywhere else.
Out here, I don’t feel like the man I’m afraid of being with her… the man who can’t be trusted with her. It feels like the world is small and safe in this spot, like we’re in a private bubble made just for us, and for a moment, I just let myself want. I let myselfhave, because out here, we’ll have to stop eventually.
Her arms go around my neck, and my hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens. She tastes like cider and something sweeter, something that's just her, and I can't get enough. My jacket falls from her shoulders, forgotten, and I back her up against the stone wall of the quay, pressing my body against hers.
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and it goes straight to my cock. I'm hard already, and with her soft body against mine, I'm aching with need.
"Sean," she breathes against my mouth, and the way she says my name, breathy and wanting, nearly undoes me.
"We should go home," I manage to say, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"Yes," she agrees, and I grab my jacket from where it fell, draping it back over her shoulders before taking her hand and leading her back toward the apartment.
The walk back feels like it takes forever. Every step is torture, my body wound tight with want, and I'm achingly aware of Maeve beside me, her hand in mine, her breathing slightly uneven. When we finally reach the building, I'm practically vibrating with need.
Flynn is gone when we enter the apartment, a note on the counter saying his security replacement is on duty and doing patrols, and I send up a silent thank you to whatever gods arelistening. I don't want an audience for this. I don't want anything to interrupt what's about to happen.
I don’t think I can stop it this time. I don’t know if I want to any longer, if I should, if I…
Maeve sets my jacket on the back of the couch, and when she turns to face me, there's nervousness in her eyes mixed with desire. "Sean, I?—"
I cross to her in two strides, cutting off whatever she was going to say with another kiss. This one is harder, more demanding, and she responds in kind, her hands fisting in my shirt as she pulls me closer. I walk her backward toward the bedroom, our mouths never breaking apart, and when the back of her knees hit the bed, she falls onto it with a soft gasp.
I follow her down, covering her body with mine, and the feel of her beneath me is almost too much. I've wanted this for so long, fought against it for so long, and now that I'm finally allowing myself to have it, I feel like I'm drowning in her.
My hands find the button of her jeans, undoing it and sliding underneath to touch the soft skin of her hips, and she arches into my touch. I kiss down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse racing beneath my lips. She's trembling, and I force myself to slow down, to be gentle with her.
"Are you sure?" I ask, pulling back to look at her. "We don't have to?—"
"I'm sure," she says, her voice steady despite the trembling in her body. "I want this. I want you."
Those words break something in me, some last wall I'd been holding up, and I kiss her again, pouring everything I can't say into it. My hands work at the zipper of her jeans, tugging them down at the same time that I push her sweater up, wanting her naked, wanting to see all of her. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple black cotton bra and panties, and it's somehow more erotic than any lingerie could be.
I shed my own shirt, and her hands come up to touch my chest, tracing the lines of my tattoos, the scars that mark my skin. Her touch is gentle, reverent almost, and it makes my chest tight.
"You're beautiful," she whispers, and I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. I'm covered in scars and ink, a map of violence written on my skin, but she looks at me like I'm something painted and framed.
"You're the beautiful one," I say, my hands sliding up her sides, feeling the delicate curve of her ribs, the softness of her skin. "So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes."
She blushes, and I kiss her again, my hands working at the clasp of her bra. It comes free, and I pull it away, revealing small, perfect breasts that fit exactly in my palms. I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, and she gasps, her back arching off the bed. I can’t get enough. Her nipple is tight between my lips, her body responding to every touch, every stroke of my hands and tongue, and I want more. I want to taste her, to make her come, to…
My phone rings.
I ignore it, too focused on Maeve, on the way she's writhing beneath me, on the soft pleas falling from her lips. But it rings again, insistent, and I curse under my breath.
