Fighting for Irish (Fighting for Love, #3)

She swallowed hard and nodded. Holding her gaze, he closed the door, flipped the locks, and secured the chain before slowly walking to her. His hands moved to her small waist as he stepped in close. Her hands slid up his arms and stopped at his elbows as though she wasn’t sure she should hold him any closer. He hated that there was any space between them, but he’d allow her her baby steps if that’s what she needed to feel safe.

Ever so gently, he kissed her lips. She didn’t shy away, but met him with a quiet intensity of her own. He let her set the pace and take the lead. He didn’t want to take things further until he was sure she was ready. They came together again and again, sometimes pressing firmly as they breathed each other in. Sometimes touching with no more than a whisper as they teased themselves with the promise of more.

It was that “more” that had Aiden’s cock straining for release and his brain fighting it back to wait until she made the first move. Then again, maybe she wasn’t as ready as she’d thought.

Pulling back, he cupped her face with his hands to still her. “I don’t want you to think we have to do anything you don’t want. Sex is not a condition of my staying the night. I can just hold you and be perfectly happy with that.”

“I’m not hesitating because I don’t want to be with you. I know you’ll stop if I tell you.” She lowered her gaze and a slight flush colored her cheeks as she whispered, “I’ve never had that before.”

A silent rage washed through him for the horrors she must have endured in her past. “Look at me.” He waited the extra second it took her to obey before speaking again. “No man should ever push you for more than you can give. You have a goodness inside of you, Kat. And that goodness recognizes itself in others. So you listen to that. Trust it. And don’t go near anybody who doesn’t have what you got. You understand?”

She took a while to answer, like the concept had to sink in past all the negative shit that had built up in her head over the years. Finally, she nodded. He pretended that the need to give her a pep talk like that didn’t break his heart and moved on. “So tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want my night with you. But I’m scared I’ll slip inside myself again. I mean, what if I can’t be with a man without doing that? What if somehow I’m broken?”

“Baby, you’re not the one who’s broken. The assholes who mistreated you, they’re the broken ones. You did what you had to do to survive them.”

Worry etched her face as she shook her head. “But I did it with you just last night and I knew you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I wanted what we were doing.”

She was right. Something had triggered it and neither of them knew what. He’d give anything for a psychology degree right about now. “So we’ll go slow and if I see you start to fade, we’ll stop. There’s no pressure, and you can lead. I won’t make a move unless you do.”

Again she shook her head. “No, I don’t think— Can…” She took a deep breath and pleaded with her light blue eyes. “Can you lead, but do the going-slow thing?”

Aiden wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close forever so no one could ever put that look in her eyes again. The people who wronged her when she was young should be bound and tortured as they’d done to her, whatever it was. Maybe someday he’d do some hunting, but his only concern now was to give her what she wanted—what they both wanted—and show her how good he could make it for her.

“Ah, kitten, I can do more than that.” Picking up the end of her braid, he slid the elastic from it and began to unweave her hair. “I wanna make you feel things you never thought possible.” He brushed the golden-red waves behind her shoulders and sank his fingers through them at her nape. “I wanna give you nothing but good things to remember from now on. So the past can never touch you again.”

And with that promise, he kissed her.

Aiden entered her mouth and stroked her tongue with his, guiding her in the erotic dance. Not fast or forceful, but slow and deliberate. He took his time with each step before progressing to the next. He wanted her to feel every moment, every connection their bodies made.

They broke apart, their breaths sawing in and out. With every exhale, a measure of tension left her body even as her pulse raced beneath his thumbs. Blue eyes bright with desire caged him. Swollen cherry lips tempted him. He breathed her in, then went back for more.



They kissed with an earnest restraint. Their breath, erratic as air, became secondary to the need for each other. Hands roamed and groped, but with a slowness that defied their intensity.

Aligning their bodies, he rolled his hips, pressing his hard length against her sex. He hit a certain spot and a hot spark of pleasure set off deep in her belly. She gasped and her knees buckled for a split second. It was intense, unlike any sensation she’d felt before. And she wanted more of it. Lots more.

“Do that again.”

“What, this?” He did it again, harder. She swore and dropped her head back as she relished the tingles that zinged along her nerve endings.

Irish attacked her neck. Licking. Sucking. Biting.

Oh, damn, that feels good.

That shouldn’t feel good, should it? Biting should hurt. It would leave marks.

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