“I can’t help it. I’ve been waiting four years to say nothing.”
A smile teases at her lips. “Then shut up,” she whispers, and only rides me harder.
I do. Mostly. I kiss her throat, her mouth, the damp corners of her eyes when they shine again. I tell her things that aren’t the three words I promised to hold.
“You feel so good,” I mumble against her throat, as I lick and suck. “That sweet little pussy is so wet for me, Kitty Cat.”
She rewards me with a good eyeroll. She always hated my pussy and Kitty Cat jokes. I can’t help myself though.
“Mmm, ride me like a good girl…”
Her pulse stutters wild under my palm as I press it to her chest.
“Matteo,” she gasps.
“Let go…” My voice is as wrecked as she is. “I’ve got you.”
She falls apart on my name, tightening, clenching, eyes open, watching me watch her. It takes me with her. I thrust up hard once, twice, and the bottom drops out as I spill inside her. Then I hold her there, pressed chest-to-chest. The tremor rolls through me, through her, forehead to forehead, the kind of kiss that doesn’t end so much as turn into breathing again.
For a long time, we don’t talk, my cock still buried inside her. The carriage sings and the tracks keep their patient time. Her heartbeat slows under my hand. Mine learns how.
I tuck her closer, nose in her hair, and whisper the one truth I’m allowed. “I’m here.”
She traces the edge of my jaw like she’s memorizing me. “Don’t leave me.” Her words are so quiet they might have been only a thought.
“Never again.” My voice is like steel. In this moment, I know I could never, would never leave her again. My entire world could burn down around me, and I’d accept it if it meant spending just another minute with her.
Cat settles. I watch the blinds glow a little with the suggestion of morning. I think about how close we came to missing this, about promises made when we were young and stupid, and about a word she gave me today that I’ll carry like armor.
Mine.
I close my eyes with her weight on me and let the train take us north.
CHAPTER 37
OUR FIRST DATE
Caitríona
After the warm glow of the sleeper car, Glasgow Central greets us like a punch. The glass roof roars with rain, voices ricocheting off an iron skeleton. The arrivals board barks with chaos, quickly throwing the peace of the last few hours into the past tense.
And I’m not ready to leave it yet. I want to bask in that quiet, in that rare moment of honesty between us. Not to mention the amazing sex. We indulged in each other twice before the train rattled into the station.
I tug my cap lower, inch closer to Matteo and let the crowd carry us toward the concourse. His fingers entwine with mine, eyes meeting my own beneath the shadow of the oversized bill.
A faint, tired smile curls his lips and that dimple pops.
I’m almost too mesmerized by him to notice. But I feel their eyes before I see them.
Two men in dark coats plant themselves by the exit barriers. One is wiry with a Belfast nose, and the other is built like a door. They don’t look at the departures board. They search faces.Then they stop atmyface. A third shadow peels off near the WHSmith, hand to his ear.
Tiernan’s men. Damn it.
“Left,” Matteo murmurs, breath a ribbon at my ear. We veer and suddenly the station’s a chessboard, and we’re the piece that isn’t supposed to exist.
The big guy clocks the move and cuts across the flow, fast for his size. Belfast Nose ghosts the other way, trying to snatch us at the barrier. Matteo’s palm presses the small of my back.
“Tickets,” the guard calls out, cheerfully oblivious.
