To trail my tongue over her full bottom lip. To tease the aggression from her tongue with mine. To trace the taut line over her collarbone and lower.
Fuck, I’m hard again just looking at her.
‘Who’s she with?’ Richard finally drags his jaw from the floor.
‘Ashley Kearney, the principal of St Jude’s.’ Ashley is thewoman who originally approached me to make use of the Olympic pool.
‘Let’s go buy them a drink.’ Richard lurches off the bar.
‘Trust me, they don’t want us anywhere near them.’ I take a sip of Coke just to do something other than stare.
Savannah and Ashley are flanked by two vaguely familiar brunettes.
Nick and Shane halt their conversation, their eyes following our gaze across the room.
‘Isn’t that Nate Jackson’s wife?’ Shane squints at the women.
Nate Jackson is a Hollywood movie star who married a teacher from St. Jude last Christmas.
‘You’re right.’ Nick clicks his fingers. ‘I knew I recognised her. And the girl next to her is Nate’s sister.’
‘I don’t see any girls there.’ Richard wiggles his eyebrows. ‘They’re all women to me.’
I give him a hard elbow in the ribs, and he coughs. ‘What was that for?’
‘Pervy men like you are probably the reason women like Savannah don’t date.’ God, I’m such a hypocrite. I’ve been perving over her from the first day I met her.
I watch as Savannah shouts something to her friends, clutches her bare chest and tips her head backwards with laughter. Thick lustrous hair cascades across her shoulders in bouncing waves. Her sparkling sapphire eyes radiate a rare playfulness. Those full lips I’ve dreamed about kissing are painted a bright, fire-engine red. What I wouldn’t give to see that red smeared all over my cock.
Yep, I’m officially worse than Dr Dick.
As if Savannah senses she’s being watched, her head whips round. Her initial surprise at spotting me is quickly replaced by indignation. Her lips drop into a tight, grim line as shepresses them together. As if my mere presence here is an inconvenience.
So much for her warming to me. Her stare is colder than Antarctica. If looks could kill, I’d be taking my last breath right about now.
‘You,’ she mouths across the sea of faces. Long black eyelashes flutter closed in exasperation a split second before she turns her back on me.
Chapter Eight
SAVANNAH
Of all the gin joints in Dublin, I have to be in the same one as Ronan fucking Rivers. It’s bad enough I had to endure him earlier, and tomorrow, but tonight as well while he’s out on the pull… that’s just cruel.
Watching him today, half-naked, forcing his formidable frame through the water to protect my daughter, was a special kind of torture. The type that makes my ovaries weep. He has a natural knack with the girls. Even Isla listens to him, sort of.
And it seems not only does he have the body of a fallen god, but he has a hidden, inexplicable compassion lingering beneath that teasing façade.
Last week’s kindness was unexpected. The way he touched me in the water was tender but firm. Reassuring but pushing for progress. The way he held my hands wasn’t in any way inappropriate, but my God did it incite some inappropriate thoughts in my lady parts. Thoughts that have haunted me all damn week.
Ronan was uncannily accurate. I wasn’t just frightened, I was embarrassed. He saw me without my clothes on, andwithout the mask I wear for the rest of the world. The one that conceals every vulnerability I hide behind my flawless make-up and winning smile.
The smile that says, “I’ve got everything under control.”
The smile that says, “I don’t need a man.”
The smile that says, “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine alone.”
Want to know a secret?
