Pat could have died.Shouldhave died at his presumption.
“How is my sweet boy doing, then, Pat?”
River stared at him. Daring him to make a scene.
“Starving, Nan. I miss your butter rolls already. I miss you too,” he added. Mentally trying to find a way to get out of this unscathed. River’s nostrils flared— she was pissed.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Patrick. I have an apartment to design and a great-grandbaby to kiss. Be good to my girls.”
Patrick had a lump in his throat. “I will Bébhinn. See you soon.”
“I love you, Patrick. I love you, River Aster. You call me whenever you need me. No matter the time or day. Promise?”
“Promise. I love you, Nan. See you in a few weeks.”
Patrick knew he’d fucked up. Like really, really, really fucked up. River ended the call and set her phone on the counter. She didn’t say a word, successfully rocking his father’s favorite silent intimidation technique.
“I’m sorry I interrupted. I was going to put a casserole together for brunch tomorrow.” Credible.
“And what exactly were the theatrics about?”
Patrick considered weaving some ridiculous tale until River added, “Please don’t lie. I’m too tired, Pat.”
Patrick noticed the skin under her eyes looked bruised like she hadn’t been sleeping well. Patrick’s ever-present guilt crashed through his body. Torture.
So, he told the truth. “I couldn’t sleep because I only think of you even though I don’t deserve you. I refuse to put our friendship in danger again, but when I heard your voice, I couldn’t turn back around. I did intend to make a casserole for tomorrow until I heard you talking on the phone.” Here, he paused, gauging just how much truth she needed— wanted. She looked like it was all truth or nothing. Truth then.
“I didn’t know you were speaking to Bébhinn. You told someone that you missed them and that you just needed to hear their voice. I was pissed, and jealous, and everything in between. And before you hand me my ass, I know I have no rights to those feelings, but... well, you’re the one who asked for honesty.”
* * *
Riverhadasked for honesty.A mistake? No, she wouldn’t lie to herself. It thrilled her to hear Patrick’s explanation. He’d been jealous. As revelations go, it was giant. But... it changed nothing.
It changed everything.
“I appreciate your honesty, Pat.” River started to slide off the counter. Better to remove herself from... her destruction. But Patrick stepped closer, and River, for the first time, realized he was in his underwear and— he was happy, really happy, to see her.
“Patrick?”
Pat inhaled deeply, letting it out nice and slow, as if yoga breathing would cure his... upward-facing dog situation.
“River,” Pat practically growled as he placed each hand on either side of her body, gripping the white granite like a drowning man would a life preserver.
Everything about this moment was a neon precursor sign to disaster. She didn’t care. Not anymore. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever again. She was even willing to chance him ghosting her again.
Her body and her mind were made for Patrick Brandon O’Faolain.
Five days had felt like a long time. When she considered what forever might look like... Never sharing breath with Patrick or her dreams. Never have her body caressed by Patrick or share a peaceful silence. She wanted what her sister and Bran had. A bond without end or question.
Patrick was every fantasy River might conjure.
The freedom to explore his body was intoxicating. She started by running her fingers through Patrick’s thick, white hair, a straight sheet that fell over half his beautiful face. Then she ran her nails over the short stubble where he’d shaved one side. The moonlight painted Patrick with a Viking brush. Ragnar Lothbrok come to pillage and conquer.
She drug her fingers over his lips and neck. Traced his broad shoulders. He was naked except for those sexy, silk boxer briefs. It felt like tracing marble, but where a statue was cold and hard, Pat was heat. Smooth and hot.
Patrick gripped both her thighs, spreading her legs wide so he could step between them, dragging her close until their centers aligned, wrapping her legs around his hips. They both moaned at the contact.
“Holy fuck, River. If you only knew how often I thought of touching you like this,” he whispered against her lips.
