A quiet laugh left him, low and rough. “I believe you have that backwards.” His hands settled on her hips, firm now, guiding her closer. She could feel how much he wanted her. The realization sent heat rushing through her.
“Mags,” he murmured, thumb brushing beneath the edge of her waistband. A question again.
She nodded.
His restraint snapped.
The kisses turned desperate, open-mouthed, breathless. He trailed his mouth along her jaw, down the curve of her neck, drawing a soft moan from her that she quickly smothered against his shoulder. His hands moved with growing confidence—exploring, memorizing, pulling her body flush against his.
Fabric shifted. Buttons slipped free. Her fingers tangled in his white hair as he lifted her slightly, positioning her more securely against him. The couch gave another small creak that made them both freeze—then laugh quietly, breathless with nerves and adrenaline.
“Your parents are going to hear,” he whispered against her skin.
“Trust me, we’re better off out here. My room and my parents’ room share vents. I grew up blaring music or a fan at night,” she whispered back.
His amber eyes met hers, an incredulous shake of his head, before he clasped her face, a hungry predator hovered close.
“God, I love when you look at me like that,” she breathed.
That was what undid him.
He moved carefully but decisively, lowering her back against the couch cushions, bracing himself above her.
Their movements were quiet but intense, gasps swallowed into skin, fingers gripping tight. The world narrowed to the sound of their breathing, the brush of skin against skin, the careful rhythm they found together.
When he finally joined with her, it was slow—measured, eyes locked on hers. She clutched his shoulders, trying not to cry out as pleasure rolled through her in waves.
He kissed her to muffle the sound.
The couch shifted beneath them in a steady, restrained rhythm. Every small creak made their hearts race faster, made the moment sharper, more electric. The risk of being overheard shrank underneath the way her body responded to his.
“Mags…” he breathed, voice rough and unsteady.
“I’m here,” she whispered back, fingers digging into his back as she met his movements.
It built and built and built until restraint dissolved completely. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud as she shattered beneath him. He followed seconds later, burying his face against her neck to stifle his own sound.
And then?—
Silence.
The house remained undisturbed.
They stayed tangled together on the couch, breathing hard, hearts hammering.
Jonathan lifted his head, hair falling into his eyes. “We are never doing that here again.”
Mags smiled lazily up at him, hazel eyes glowing. “You say that now.”
He laughed quietly, pressing one last slow kiss to her lips.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked again.
They both froze.
“Okay,” he muttered, “we are definitely never doing that here again.”
Mags spent the short flight from Inverness to Dublin reminiscing over the weekend. The cookout was a lot of fun. Josephine and Catriona fussed over her mom, and even though Mags knew her mom would have preferred to brush the whole cancer scare under the rug, she knew her best friends had every right to express their feelings.
