* * *
This was happening.This. Was. Happening— now. Holy shit, River was taking him home.Calm the fuck down, Patrick.He couldn’t stop glancing at her profile. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Maybe she regretted asking.
“River.” He waited until she met his eyes. Christ, she was beautiful. The smokey ring around her cat eyes enhanced the green in the hazel. She was biting her lip. Anticipation or regret? Leaning close to her ear, he spoke low, hoping his words wouldn’t carry to the two men sitting in front. “We don’t have to do anything. I will walk you to your door. We can set up a time to meet, and I will go home.” When she only watched him, her eyes slowly blinking, her teeth still worrying her bottom lip, his own doubts began to bubble up his throat.
Finally, she leaned toward him, her mouth at his ear, and said, “What if I want to dosomething?” River followed that bomb with a lick to the shell of his ear. Hot, wet torture.
Patrick barely swallowed his groan. Every place on his body that had held even a particle of softness hardened— especially the mindless beast between his legs. He could not believe she’d done that when they weren’t alone. Christ, he wanted her to do it again. He also wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine.
In a normal voice, he asked, “You never said whether Mrs. Adamson is married.” When River opened her mouth to reply, Patrick slipped his hand between her legs, putting slight pressure on her jean-clad core, causing her to inhale sharply. His guard instantly twisted in his seat to make sure there wasn’t a problem, noticed Pat’s smirk, and shook his head slightly before turning forward.
“I’m sorry, babe. What did you say?”
Shooting him a ‘you’re going to pay for that,’ look, River attempting to answer again. Patrick increased the pressure and made sure to move his palm just that smallest bit over her most sensitive spot. She coughed, tried to move his hand, and even elbowed his side. He only smiled. Paybacks.
Squirming in her seat, River tried again. “Divorced. I... Ahh,” she gasped, shooting him a death stare, but her hips were beginning to move against his hand. “I don’t believe it was ami- ahh-cable.”
The guard spoke slightly louder than necessary to the taxi driver. “The house on the corner.” Patrick heard River mumble athank you, Jesus. After one last squeeze, Patrick released his grip. Her gasp this time seemed less like relief and more like regret.
Patrick paid the driver before exiting the car. He helped River out his side, keeping hold of her hand. His guard, Sim, told Patrick that he was going to check in with the house guard on duty tonight and let him know Peter was bringing Rowan home later. That settled, River used her phone app to unlock the front door.
The red-brick Georgian townhouse on North Great George’s Street was all of two centuries old, solemnity on the outside and all bright and airy on the inside. “Wow.”
“I know, right?” River grinned in answer. “The house is a stunner. I’ll give you a tour during the day sometime. The original architectural designs throughout the house have been preserved with much love and care. Which they deserved. Homes built like this one are true works of art. It used to be all about the details,” she sighed.
Patrick watched River look passionately about the house as she led him across the spacious foyer. She loved everything about design— and he loved everything about her.
She stopped at the entrance to a hallway. Even in the dim light, Patrick could see her cheeks pinken. “Would you like to see my room?” Her question had his body picking up right where it had left off in the taxi ride. Hard.
“I would. Yes.” She took his hand this time, leading him through a maze of hardwood floors and priceless art. When her hand finally landed on a copper doorknob, Patrick placed his on top, stopping her from turning it.
At her questioning look, Patrick had to make a decision. He could let this happen, or he could make his feelings known and see if it still happened. He touched her face, turning her eyes to his. “Would you give me a minute to tell you something?” Eyes wide, she nodded. “If... if we do this, River, you need to know that it isn’t just sex.
“It never was just sex with you. If we do this,” he repeated, “I need a commitment from you because I plan on giving you one. So, if you aren’t ready for that yet, which I would understand and respect, I would want to wait until youaresure.
“I would wait forever for you, River, but you have to understand, once you take me into your life— your body —ithasto be a forever thing.”
* * *
River was stunned.This was not the same Pat she’d known these many months. This was an older, wiser version. A man, and one who no longer ran from feelings! She was equal parts elated and scared of trusting him again... trusting herself. If her sisters, and especially Nan, had warned her away from him, the decision would have been easy. It would be an unequivocal no.
But they believed in Patrick. River wanted to believe in this new Patrick too. Her heart was beating louder than the bodhrán player at Murphy’s. This was it, then. She’d felt all along, even in the midst of her crushing hurt, that she and Patrick O’Faolain weren’t simply an exception. They were the rule.
“I never stopped loving you, Patrick. Even when—” River hesitated.
“I hurt you. Badly.” Patrick finished.
Air whooshed out of her lungs. He understood. He’dheardwhat she’d written. But... yes, there was still abut. River closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. The day, or night, of reckoning, had come faster than she’d anticipated. She wanted— desperately —to make the right choice.
Was there a choice, though? Or only an answer.
Raising her head up, River looked at Patrick. She reached up, brushing his shaggy bangs from covering one of his eyes. Now, his twin amber gaze watched her. He was so still. River felt he was preparing himself for rejection. She knew Patrick. Perhaps better than anyone else. He wanted to believe in redemption. In changing the story. In happily-ever-afters. He just didn’t believe he was worthy. Not deep down where his mother had destroyed a young boy’s self-esteem.
Hewasworthy. Patrick was worth every— damn —thing.
“Mr. O’Faolain, I agree to your terms. I accept your commitment and give you my own.” River laughed at his shout of triumph, which would probably have the guards running, but she felt only joy as he scooped her up, hugging her close to his heart. He pressed his face against her neck. Stunned, she felt hot tears against her skin.
“Pat? What...?”
