Page 124 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Should we . . . eat at the table?” Tadhg asked.

“Mm. The fire is so nice. Can we just eat here?”

His smile was soft. His eyes were soft too. “’Course.”

“Oooh. You got wine? Let’s have a sneaky little glass by the fire first. Unless you’re too hungry to wait?”

“Glass of wine sounds perfect. Dinner can stay in the oven.”

“Mm. What is it?” I called after him as he walked to the kitchen to get glasses.

“Oh, just simple stuff. Rocket and goat cheese salad with toasted walnuts, and baked mafaldine with spinach, cream, and roasted tomatoes.”

“Are you kidding? That sounds amazing!”

“Na. Just what they had at the shop.”

By the time he got back to the fire, I’d layered three blankets on the floor and borrowed some throw cushions from the sofa to make a comfy little wine spot. I knew it was wrong. I knew what I was doing. But, like game pieces that had already been set into motion, we circled around each other, and I couldn’t stop myself.

I tucked a damp, towel-dried curl behind my ear. “Want to join me down here?”

He waited a moment, and I thought he might choose the sofa instead. It would be a better idea. We both knew it.

“I shouldn’t. But I will.” He handed me a glass of wine and, with more grace than expected for a man of his size, swung down and sat next to me, back against the sofa, legs outstretched.

“God. What is that?” I inhaled again, more purposely. “That smell, what is it?”

“That’s turf. It’s a turf fire—it’s peat. I’m sorry, do you not like it?”

“What do you mean? It’s amazing. It’s such a cozy, earthy smell.” His smile was small, almost not even there, but his eyes crinkled and gave him away. Then he held his glass out, and we toasted and sipped. The wine was full and round and smooth, like everything that night.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Listen, I’m . . . I’m sorry for the other night. At the Causeway. Things have been . . . awkward between us since then, and that’s my fault. I know we had this talk and we both agreed and we had the rules, but I think they just made things worse, if I’m honest. It’s been impossible . . . Jesus, every day I’ve been . . .” He stopped and ran a hand over his face and took a breath. “That doesn’t matter. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to be like one of those clumsy, pushy blokes my father sets you up with. Because I really like this.” He gestured with his wineglass, and somehow it encompassed the fire and the blankets and us being friends and traveling side by side. “And I don’t want it to be awkward. So I hope we can just move past it.”

I tilted my head and grinned, warmed by the bath and the fire and the wine, my blood slow like chocolate, warm, happy, wrapped up, protected, looked after. “Is that why you’re spoiling me? As an apology?”

His brow creased. Of course it did. “What do you mean?”

“All this.”

“Pfft. It’s just a bit of pasta. This isn’t spoiling you. I’m just . . .” He faltered.

My words came out slow and lazy. “You’re just . . . looking after me?”

I was so happy. There was only one thing I was missing. One more thing that I needed.

And then my body was moving like melted wax, slow and smooth and sure, and my wine-glazed lips were on his, and our tongues and breath met, and somehow something in my body shifted—my cells transformed, my brain rewired—because all of the sudden, I needed Tadhg the same way I needed air to breathe.

Chapter 39 An Experiment in Falling

The taste of him sated the emptiness that had been building in my chest. I realized that it had been gathering there for days—weeks—my whole life, I didn’t know, but now, that hollow ache had stopped growing and was gone. This. This was what I needed.

This kiss was different. Our first kiss had been untamable, wild and hungry, and our second kiss had been a caress, as gentle as a poem, but this kiss, this kiss was something new. We merged like two halves of a whole, finally finding each other, finally together again, finally complete. Emotion swelled and gathered beneath my ribs in sweet tandem with the need gathering between my legs. I’d had no idea that it could be like this. That I could be like this.

Tadhg sucked in a deep breath and pulled me tight against him, thick arms wrapping around my back, grabbing fists full of my sweater. “Maya.”

“Maya.” He said it again, as if his heart were beating the word out. And there was something about the sound of it—the softness, the warmth, the longing—that made me open my eyes and look at him. His dark eyes were utterly lost. And I was lost with him.

“How do you do this to me?” He cupped my face and slid a slow thumb across my cheek. “God. I can’t think of anything but you, Maya. All the time.”