A full-body shudder works its way through me, and I hate that he most likely noticed. Steeling myself, I turn sideways and look up.
His lush lips part, and air spills softly from his mouth as our eyes engage and the outside world seems to evaporate. Fire kindles in my chest, spreading lower, and I lick my dry lips, wondering if spontaneous combustion is actually a thing. Dillon’s eyes drop to my mouth, and electricity charges the tiny gap between our bodies.
This is not happening, and I’ve got to put a stop to it now.
“What?” I croak, averting my eyes.
“Look at me,” he growls, tilting my chin up with one of his fingers. Tingles explode across my face, and from the way his jaw pulses, I’d say he felt it too.
“Why?” I challenge, feeling out of sorts and wanting to get the first shot in.
“Because apologies should always be made face to face. Only cowards apologize when someone is looking at their feet.”
“Okay. I’ll bite.” I’m curious to see if this is bullshit to appease his beloved sister or if he’s capable of any genuine emotion.
He arches one dark brow. “Didn’t peg you for a biter,” he rasps, his seductive tone doing funny things to my insides.
“I’ve been known to bite,” I reply, deliberately biting down on my lower lip.
His greedy eyes follow the movement, and my core throbs, reminding me I’m still a sexual being with needs. Needs that haven’t been properly fulfilled in months. My little electronic friend doesn’t count because there’s no substitute for a real cock.
“My sister and Jamie tell me I’m wrong about you.” He leans his face in extra close, and I stop breathing, staring into green eyes that look almost green-blue in this light. “Maybe they are right.” Grabbing a few stray strands of my wavy hair, he tucks it behind my ear. His fingers brush my earlobe, and I’m close to testing that spontaneous combustion theory.
“Dil.” A whiny voice breaks the spell, and we jerk back from one another.
“Not now, Aoife,” Dillon grits out, not even looking at the sexy blonde.
“But—”
He turns around, clenching his jaw. “I’m trying to have a private conversation here. I’ll talk to you later.” It sounds like he’s taking great effort to not snap at her.
Predictably, she scowls, throwing me a scathing look before she saunters off, sashaying her hips in an exaggerated fashion. Pity for her Dillon has already turned back around to face me. He opens his mouth to speak just as the bartender calls my attention. Giving Dillon my back, I lean over the counter, shouting my order over the background music. Spinning around, I find Dillon’s eyes glued to my ass, and I fold my arms, slanting him a knowing look.
“What?” He shrugs. “If you don’t want guys staring at your arse, you shouldn’t wear tight leather trousers.”
“Was there a reason you accosted me?”
“Accosted? That makes me sound like some pervert.” He smirks that annoying smirk, and I narrow my eyes at him.
He chuckles, and I’m two seconds from throat punching him. “Aren’t you?” It’s not like I’ve forgotten what went down in my bedroom. Even after changing my bed that night and washing the sheets, I still couldn’t look at them without seeing him with that skank, so I ended up throwing them in the trash. And let’s not forget Ash saw him tag-teaming Aoife with Jamie. Though neither of the guys knows she witnessed that.
Seeing something in my gaze, he loses the grin, fixing me with an earnest expression. “I’m sorry for acting like a giant bag of dicks.” He’s smothering a smile again, and this time, so am I. His entire face lights up when he smiles—his eyes sparkle and two cute dimples appear in his cheeks—and I’m a goner. It’s like being sucker-punched in the ovaries and the boobs at the same time.
“Why did you?” I ask before I can question the wisdom of it.
“I have my reasons.”
“And you’re not going to share those with me?”
“If it was something I felt you needed to know, I’d tell you.” He jerks his head at something or someone behind me, and before I can stop him, he’s paid for my drinks.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I just tore into Ronan for trying to do the same thing.
“Call it a peace offering.” The dimples make a reappearance with his flirtatious smile, and I think I’m in trouble.
“I think I preferred it when you were mean to me,” I whisper, instantly clamping a hand over my mouth. What the fuck, Viv?
“Be careful what you wish for,” he cryptically says, winking before he walks away.
35
“Are you sure I don’t need to bring anything else?” I call out to Ash through my open bedroom door.
“Just your sexy arse, some cash or your bank card, and something to change into for the event tonight. Wear your jacket with the hood. It might rain.”
I smile to myself as I reach for said jacket. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ireland in the two months since I’ve been here it’s that it always fucking rains. Now we’re into March, it should start easing off soon. Or so I’ve been told.
“Someone looks happy,” Ash croons from my doorway.
“I’m excited to do all the touristy things,” I truthfully admit. “Audrey can’t believe it’s taken me this long to visit some of the sights.”
“She didn’t tell you she gave me shit the last time we talked? Why else do you think I organized today? Your bestie is terrifying.”
I throw back my head, laughing. “Audrey is fierce. I can’t wait for you to meet her next week.” I almost burst Ash’s eardrums when Audrey confirmed she booked a flight to Dublin during spring break. She’s arriving the day before St. Patrick’s Day, so her timing is perfect. Ash and Audrey have been chatting up a storm in recent weeks, and it pleases me that they seem to get along.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her. We’ll have a blast.”
We meet up with Catriona and the guys outside Trinity, heading to a nearby restaurant to load up on carbs for the action-packed day ahead. In order to make the most out of our day, we are spending it mainly in the city center. This evening, we’re taking a tour of the infamous Kilmainham Gaol, and then we’re seeing The Frames play at The Royal Hospital Kilmainham.
The Frames are an Irish rock band fronted by Glen Hansard, who I know because he won an Oscar for best song for a movie my dad directed when I was a little girl.
“Why didn’t Conor come?” I inquire, as we enjoy a delicious full Irish breakfast.
“He was too stoned to get up this early the night after a show,” Ronan says, stuffing toast into his mouth.
“Conor’s a loner at heart,” Dillon supplies.
“And he doesn’t like crowds,” Jamie adds.
“Wait! What?” I gawk at them. “But he’s in a band! A band with big ambitions. How the hell will that work?”
“He gets lost when he’s on stage,” Jamie explains, tearing a bite out of a crisp piece of bacon. “He barely even notices the crowd most of the time.”
“Who says we’re a band with big ambitions?” Dillon asks, and there’s a familiar edge to his tone. Things have been better since he broke the ice last week, but he barely said two words to me when he and Ronan came for dinner on Wednesday night. I think he’s as perturbed by this freaky chemistry we share as much as I am.
Ronan groans, slinging his arm along the back of my chair. Dillon’s eyes instantly wander to his brother’s arm, and he purses his lips. “Come on, bro,” Ronan says. “Don’t pull this shit again.”
“Sue me for trying to keep things real,” he snaps, and Ash glares at Ronan from behind Dillon, making a slicing motion with her hand across her throat.
“Fine, fine,” Ronan grumbles. “Let’s not mention the war.”
“So, what’s first on the agenda?” I ask, pushing my half-eaten plate away.
“Not hungry?” Dillon lifts a brow.
“Are you kidding? Did you see the size of that thing? It would feed at least three people.”
“More for us,” Jamie says, yanking my plate away.
Dillon and Ronan grab some of the food from my plate before Jamie takes it all, and I watch them devour it like they haven’t been fed in days.