Page 4 of Irish Betrayal

Blair swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. She hadn’t noticed him moving, but he had—close enough now that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, close enough to catch the clean, subtle scent of him.

“You’re…Daniel,” she signed, like that explained everything.

“And you’re Blair.” She could feel his voice drop to a rumble where her hand rested above his heart. “That’s never been a problem before.”

No. It hadn’t. They’d never ventured this close or acknowledged that perhaps they felt something more than friendship. There had been times when, with their friends, Daniel would stand close, a brush of his fingers against her shoulder, back, arm, a graze of his thumb against the palm of her hand.

For over a year, they’d been…touching more. He’d been coming to her garden at night more. She’d had no choice but to put space between them.

That was the problem. She didn’t want the distance, but someone else did, and she always caved to that person’s wants.

Her pulse picked up as his hand lifted—slowly, deliberately—giving her time to pull away. She didn’t. His fingers brushed a loose strand of her curly red hair from her face, the touch light, almost careful.

Too careful.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, still not signing but watching her face intently, making sure he enunciated each word that she could lip-read each syllable.

She should have.

Instead, she shook her head.

That was all it took.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, steady and warm, and then his mouth was on hers, soft at first, like he was testing something fragile between them. The kiss deepened quickly, years of familiarity folding into something new, something that had been waiting far too long.

They’d been dancing around this very desire for months, her watching him with other women while she hid her secret in the shadows.

Blair’s hands found his shirt, gripping instinctively as she leaned into him. He made a low sound against her lips because she felt the vibrations, pulling her closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. She was so much tinier than him that it was a relief, and she moaned into his mouth when he lifted her slight frame to wrap around his much larger one.

This attraction wasn’t new between them. Acting on it was.

But it felt different. Right.

Like everything had shifted.

Like, there was no going back. But it would have to. Eventually. Before he found out.

When they finally broke apart, it wasn’t distance that separated them, just breath, shared, uneven.

“Still think your life is separate from mine?” he asked, his mouth tight. Serious.

Blair looked at him, really looked this time.

She barely shook her head no, exhaling a soft breath that she felt drifting between her lips. “I think there’s never been a time you haven’t been a part of it.” She made herself mouth the words in her husky, off-key, deaf way because her hands were busy gripping his shoulders, and she didn’t want to let go yet.

His smile was slow, certain. Blair rarely used her voice unless it was with her best girlfriends…and Daniel. Sometimes.

“Good,” was his only answer as he allowed her body to slide down, her bare toes curling back into the lush garden earth.

Blair shook herself from the memory, praying that her burning cheeks weren’t any darker than normal, telling Ciar, “I keep telling them to drop the idea of trying to talk me out of going to Oklahoma. It’s a done deal.”

“What the hell, Blair?” Jonathan swooped into her space and picked her up like a child, swinging her around, causing small squeaks and yips to leave her mouth. Completely undignified.

She batted at Jonathan’s broad shoulders, so similar to Daniel’s, it was ridiculous, but the ass didn’t budge.

“You accepted OSU’s offer? That’s incredible, Blair. Good for you. Mags didn’t tell me,” he added, frowning over his shoulder at his fiancée.

Blair signed quickly that she’d only just told her friends while studiously ignoring Daniel’s thunderous expression. Instant regret swamped her bones that she hadn’t told Daniel before anyone else, and yet she had been the one to discourage further intimacy after their kiss. She couldn’t have it both ways.