“Yes. One. We’ve been hooking up every now and again since I turned eighteen.”
Rory was someone she’d met in the grocery store of all places. She had moved into the O’Faolain townhouse by then. Rory was buying flowers for a date, and Mags had intervened.
“Who are the flowers for, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rory had been wearing sharp business casual, sexy dark hair perfectly trimmed over the ears, blue eyes, and a great smile with definite dimple potential.
He put down the vase of red roses before answering. “First date,” he shrugged.
“Don’t get the roses. The sunflower and daisy bouquet says you're fun without taking yourself so seriously. She’ll look at them tomorrow morning and smile.”
Mags smiled and walked away. She’d been halfway across the parking lot where Bébhinn was waiting in her old Jeep when she heard a man shout, “Hey, flower lady.”
They ended up exchanging numbers and became great friends. Within a couple of months of meeting for coffees and friendly text exchanges, she’d accepted an invitation for dinner at his house.
She lost her virginity that night, but not her heart. That organ had unfortunately belonged to someone else. Rory was still in love with his high school sweetheart. It turned out that even though they were both emotionally unavailable, the sex had been amazing. He was a generous lover and hadn’t minded her inexperience.
They both still went on dates, hers were platonic, his were not. They weren’t exclusive, but they did respect one another.
“You’ve been…intimate with one man for almost three years.” It was more of a statement than a query. “Do you still see him? Have feelings for him?”
“Rory and I are friends. Do you think you’ll ever be in a situation where one of your exes is present, where you’ll speak to them?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want you to ever endure another moment around one of my dates,” he said barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else around either of us.”
Mags hid her smile. His O’Faolain obstinacy was beginning to show. She really didn’t wish to tell him about Rory, but he thought the relationship was more than sex, and it wasn’t.
“I met him not long after that New Year’s Eve night. I was still smarting from your rejection, and I saw you not long after with another girl hanging off your arm at Murphy’s, so when Rory asked me if I was interested in something simple, no strings attached, I agreed.
“Admittedly, he didn’t know that I was barely eighteen and a virgin since he was older and already in his career. Still, it worked for us.”
Jonathan looked so pained, she couldn’t help touching his cheekbone and the hollow beneath. “I made a choice for myself, right or wrong.”
“And what’s your choice now?” he asked, capturing her hand under his own and leaning his face into her palm.
“If you don’t know the answer to that after what we just got up to, there’s no hope for you, boy,” she teased.
“You’re right,” he said, nodding his acceptance.
He looked a little lost, and Mags understood that feeling more than she wanted to admit. Every time he’d shown up with someone new on his arm, it had carved small, quiet doubts into her confidence.
She pushed the sheet back, letting her gaze travel over him—broad shoulders tapering into lean, defined lines, muscle shifting subtly beneath his skin. There was something almostsculptural about him, like he’d been carved with care, softened only by the warm undertone he’d inherited from his mother.
Stunning.
The O’Faolain men really were a blessed lot.
Before he could say a word, she moved, swinging herself over his hips, settling there with deliberate ease. His sharp intake of breath sent a flicker of satisfaction through her.
His hands reacted instantly, finding her waist, guiding her closer—like he couldn’t help himself.
“You make me crazy, Margaret Morrow.” His voice had dropped, rougher now, threaded with something urgent, almost pleading, as his gaze locked onto hers.
“How crazy?” she asked.
“I’m fucking furious that I didn’t keep you in my arms that night. I want to hunt down that Rory and ruin him. I want you to have never chosen him, taken him to your bed, and into your body.
“I want you to have only ever been mine. I need promises from you as selfish as that sounds.” During his entire impassioned speech, he never stopped gliding his shaft between her parted thighs, making her wetter and wetter.
Bending, she kissed him slowly, surely, and hopefully, with everything she was feeling. She inched down his body, moaning as his sex moved from between her legs to her stomach and higher.
