He chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely strong enough to carry a little thing like you.” Stopping at the side of the bed, Irish looked down at her with renewed seriousness. “But all that aside…I’d never let you fall, kitten. Not ever.”
Naht evah. His words rolled around in her brain, looking for a place to settle and take root. Unfortunately the dark memories grew rampant in her mind like weeds choking out any bloom of trust that tried thriving for very long. She could only enjoy it for as long as it took for history to repeat itself, proving she’d been wrong to hold out hope that this time would be different.
He gently lowered her onto the bed, then joined her and propped them up with pillows as they lay on their sides facing each other. She kept her focus on his chest, hoping to avoid revealing the riot of emotions that fought within her. Desire, shame, anticipation, anxiety… She couldn’t make heads or tails of what she should be feeling, which she guessed added confusion to the volatile mix.
“Hey.” With the side of his finger, he forced her gaze up to his. Instantly, the emotions that threatened to consume her quelled. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
Irish expelled a breath as heavy as the thoughts Kat suspected he had tumbling around in his head. His dark brows almost knitted together and his lips were set in a straight line. She was afraid to know what he thought of her.
“Hey,” Irish said softly. “Like I told you before, I’m no good with words. I don’t know exactly what this is between us, but I do know I’m having a damn hard time fighting it.”
“You’ve been trying to fight it?”
“Well, yeah.” He pushed up on his side a little and bent his supporting arm to hold up his head. “I mean, I’ve been attracted to you for forever, but I respected that you had a boyfriend. Even though he was a dirtbag who didn’t deserve you.”
A little thrill buzzed through her that Irish thought she was at least worthy enough of someone better than Lenny. “And after you found out I wasn’t still attached?”
“Ah, Christ.” He leaned back a bit and gazed up at the ceiling before resuming his original position, a half smirk playing across his lips. “Pardon my being frank, but it was like giving my dick the green light while my brain kept trying to keep my filthy hands off you. You can probably tell by now my brain’s been fighting a losing battle.”
Irish had a no-nonsense way of putting things. He said what he meant, even if what he meant was blunt or crass. That type of talk would probably turn off a lot of women, but his blue-collar roots comforted her. With him, she’d always know where she stood and she didn’t feel like she had to pretend to be anything other than who she was. Or at least who she allowed the world to see.
“Well, I’ve been wondering for a long time what it would be like to have your ‘filthy hands’ on me. Which is weird because…”
Kat trailed off, wondering if too much information was a bad thing. But then his free hand grabbed hers. He kissed the tops of her fingers and then tucked their joined hands to his chest. The moonlight spilling into the room illuminated the honesty in his face as he waited for her to finish her sentence. Not an ounce of manipulation to be found. Only sincere tenderness.
A warmth, intangible and yet no less remarkable, seeped into her chest, further softening the barriers she’d erected to keep others from hurting her. Kat couldn’t explain why, but she felt that if anyone could be entrusted with the horrific details of her past, it was this man. That didn’t mean telling him would be any easier. She still needed time to work her way up to that step if it ever came. But she wanted to tell him the little truths for now.
She took a breath and finished the sentence. “It’s weird because I’ve never desired intimacy with anyone until now. Until you.”
“Never?”
She smiled as she pictured him puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. She hadn’t considered what kind of an ego stroke that would be for a guy, but she kind of liked the idea of stroking Irish’s ego. She liked the idea of stroking a lot of things on him.
“Never.”
Irish wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in flush with his body. Not necessarily in a sexual manner, but a protective one. He seemed to act like that a lot around her. She wondered if he had an innate sense of gallantry around any female or if maybe she might be special. Odds were it was the former. She couldn’t imagine anything about her inspiring anyone to act out of character. He probably helped little old ladies cross streets and retrieved their cats from trees as a hobby.
“Tell me the real reason you don’t like to be kissed.”