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I know I’m going to go back. Not just for Saoirse, but for a multitude of reasons. I can’t live with my brother’s blood on my hands, and in the end, this has always been my birthright. My destiny.
But it will be onmyterms.
At some point, I hear Saoirse quietly excuse herself, pushing her chair back and heading in the direction of the pub’s bathroom. I know I have no real reason to go after her, and I know I shouldn’t. Still, I find myself standing up and excusing myself, walking down the dim wood-paneled hallway to wait for her until she comes out. I feel drawn to her, and I can’t wait to get her in bed on our wedding night not only to experience that pleasure finally, but so I can fuck this strange need for her out of my system.
I don’t enjoy being out of control in any way, and Saoirse makes me feel on the very edge of it.
When she comes out a few minutes later, silhouetted in the warm light behind her, she catches sight of me and jumps slightly. “Connor,” she breathes, her hand raising to touch her chest as if I scared her, and something in the way she says my name makes me feel warm to my very core.
“Saoirse.” I’m blocking her way, so she can’t go around me. We stand there for a moment, looking at each other, and she swallows hard.
“You’ve been very quiet tonight.”
She tosses her hair back, looking up at me. “I thought you might prefer it,” she says with a touch of acid in her voice.
“Since when did you care what I preferred?”
Saoirse shrugs. “Maybe I’ve just gotten tired of fighting with you.”
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” The words surprise even me, and I see her eyebrows rise. “That’s not your only value, Saoirse. But I think you know that already—you don’t need me to tell you.”
“I know what my value is to men like my father and you,” Saoirse says tightly. “And I know what my value is to myself. Now, if you don’t mind—”
I turn, crowding her against the wall with the bulk of my body in the cool, dim light. It’s not even a conscious movement, more of a need. There is a need to be close to her again, feel the warmth of her body, and breathe her in.
Her hair is up in a high ponytail, hanging thickly down her neck past her shoulders. I reach up, tugging the band loose so that it falls around her face in thick strawberry waves that beg for me to slide my hands into it. She gasps, and I do exactly that, plunging my hands into her hair as I cup her face with my hands, and my mouth comes crashing down onto hers.
It’s as if I’m out of my own body, watching myself do it. She tastes like apples, sweet and tangy with alcohol, and I feel drunk on her kiss. The way she gasps softly at the press of my mouth, the way her lips open for mine as if she can’t help it, is intoxicating. It’s as if she can’t help herself, as if she aches for me the same way I do her.
It will be for the best for both of us, once we can finally quell this desire.
Her tongue slides against mine, warm and soft, and I groan as I feel my cock harden even more. My hands slide down her arms, dropping to her waist, and I surge forward despite myself, pressing her against the wall. Someone could come along at any moment, her father even, but I can’t bring myself to care. It’s all I can do not to push the tight fabric of her dress up her hips, slide my fingers between her thighs where I know she’s warm and wet for me already. I know exactly how responsive she is for me, and just the thought makes me throb, my hands tightening against her hips.
“Connor.” Saoirse moans my name, her hands pushing at my chest. “Someone will see.”
Something comes over me, something fierce and possessive, and I grab her wrists, pinning them against the wall as I kiss her again, sucking her lower lip into my mouth. I feel her hands flex, her body arching against me, and I have a sudden primal, almost animalistic urge to grind my hard cock into her, so that she can feel just how close I am to taking what I want and damn the consequences.
“Connor!” Her voice is alarmed, half moan, half panic. “My father—”
“I don’t care,” I growl against her mouth. All I can think about is the night in the club, the warmth of her skin, the feeling of having my fingers inside her body, and how she’d come for me. I want to feel her come like that again, and I’m on the verge of losing control. My hips lean into her, into the soft flesh of her thigh, grinding my aching cock into her. “God, Saoirse—”
“Connor!” She wrenches her wrists free of my grip with surprising strength, planting her palms against my chest and shoving me backward. “Stop!”
Something about the way she says it startles me out of my daze. I take a step back, gritting my teeth against the insistent pulse thrumming through my body. “I—”
Saoirse pulls herself away from the wall, glaring at me. “My father could have seen us,” she hisses. “Anyone could have—” She licks her lips, shaking her head. “I’m going back now. Don’t touch me again until you’ve made up your mind, Connor. I won’t be your plaything while you decide what it is you want.”
She spins on her heel, striding away, and I clench my hands into fists as I watch her go. I’m still throbbing with need, and I reach down to adjust myself, unable to look away from the shape of her ass in the tight dress.
I want her, desperately. I have to believe that once I’ve had her, once our wedding night is past and I’ve been able to do anything I desire to her, this will pass.
The alternative, that I might want my wife so much that anyone else pales in comparison, that she might wield a power over me that no other woman ever has, is unthinkable.
By the time I make it back to the table, Saoirse is in her seat again, sipping at another glass of cider and talking quietly to Graham. She doesn’t look at me as I sit down, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
Soon, she’ll be mine.
All of it will. And her father will regret the day he ever thought he could control me or tell me what to do.
