Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to form words. Now that I was here, I felt foolish, reckless. I should have thought this through more. I was a good girl with a sense of propriety. It would be a scandal to be found here at Tommy’s place in the middle of the night and him half-naked.
My voice was barely above a whisper. “I had to see ye.”
His brow furrowed, concern flickering across his face. “Are you all right? Did your dad do something?”
My feet shifted nervously. “Yes. No.” Tommy reached out, put a palm to my cheek as I stammered. “I mean… yes, I’m all right. No, my da didn’t do anything. I just…” I took a breath, lifted my chin. “Can I come in?”
Tommy hesitated, then stepped aside, holding the door open for me. The cottage was dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner, the air warm and thick with the scent of him—soap, leather… man.
I turned to face him as he shut the door, and suddenly, everything inside me felt too big, too urgent. I had practiced what I wanted to say in my head the entire ride over, but now, standing in front of him, all the words jumbled together.
Tommy watched me carefully, arms crossed, which caused his muscles to bulge and become quite distracting. “Fi,” he said slowly, and I blinked to focus on his face. “What’s this about?”
I licked my lips and took a shaky step toward him. “I…” My hands fisted at my sides, the nervous energy vibrating through me. “I need to be with ye.”
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. “You are with me.”
I shook my head. “No. I mean… I want to be with ye.” I let the words settle between us, let the meaning sink in.
Tommy sucked in a slow breath. His body tensed, his hands going to the back of his neck where he gripped tight with a bowed head. “Fiona,” he murmured, refusing to look at me. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
He studied my face as his arms slowly lowered. I noticed that his hands were closed into fists, as if he was trying to restrain himself, and God help me… that turned me on in a way I didn’t understand.
“You’re talking about something that can’t be undone.”
“I know.”
His jaw tightened. “Fi…”
“My heart is sure,” I pressed, my voice trembling. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”
Tommy exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “Christ.” He turned away, pacing for a moment before looking back at me, his face exhibiting something between longing and restraint. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“This isn’t about proving anything.” I moved closer, my pulse hammering. “It’s about us. About what I feel for ye, what I want with ye.” My voice dropped, my confidence suddenly on shaky ground. “Unless… ye don’t want me that way?”
Tommy let out a rough sound, something between a sigh and a curse. “I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted anything more, but… I’ve got experience, Fiona, and well… I’m betting you don’t.”
I shook my head and looked to the floor, my heart plummeting at the realization that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” he exclaimed, causing my head to lift. He stepped toward me, wrapped his hands around my upper arms and reeled me in closer. “Why would you be sorry for offering me a gift that I don’t know how I could ever deserve?”
A gift? That’s what he thinks?
But yes… I heard the reverence and wonder of it all in his tone. His eyes were soft, heat tinging the depths, but so much awe as he stared at me.
“Why wouldn’t ye deserve it, Tommy? I think yer the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t know me, Fi.”
“I do.”
“You don’t,” he said, his hands tightening slightly on my arms, but he didn’t push me away. “I was sent here by my father because I was wild. I partied. I chased girls—”
“I don’t care about that—”
“I caught a lot of girls,” he interjected, his stare boring into me so I was fully aware that he was no saint.
“Are ye trying to scare me off?” I asked in irritation.
“Yes.”
Silence ensued as we engaged in a staring war, neither of us knowing how to move past this line that had been drawn. I wanted him, so very badly. But only if he wanted me back.
“Do you love me, Fi?” he asked quietly, his blue eyes searching mine as if only I could have the answer to our dilemma.
It never occurred to me to lie to advance my agenda. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I think I’m fallin’ in love with ye. I know I feel something deeply. I know I want to feel more.”
His breath rushed out, and I could see his resolve weakening. I was emboldened, putting my palms to his bare chest. His muscles flexed beneath my fingers, and I saw it then—the way he swallowed hard, the way his restraint was unraveling, thread by thread.