Page 53 of Fighting for Irish
“Oh, God, yes,” she cried. “Aiden!”
His muscles tensed, becoming smooth skin over stone, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time and succumbed to his release. He pressed on her swollen bud and she followed him happily into the ether.
In the minutes that followed, Kat was vaguely aware of him saying he’d be right back. All she could do was lie boneless on the mattress. If her life depended on her running or even standing at this point, she’d be a dead woman.
Irish knelt down next to her—wearing his damn jeans again—and helped her into his gigantic T-shirt. His scent comforted her almost as much as he did. Closing her eyes, she lifted the soft cotton to her nose and breathed in deep.
“Take it easy or you’ll need a lint trap up there.” Lying next to her, he pulled her into his strong arms. He kissed her on the top of her head, ruffling her hair when he spoke. “Everything okay?”
Kat sighed and nestled herself farther into his embrace. “Everything is perfect.” Tipping her head up to catch his gaze, she said, “Thank you…Aiden.”
She watched him swallow thickly, then offer a hint of a grin. “It was entirely my pleasure, kitten. Now get some shut-eye.”
Just as she tucked her head on his shoulder, Murphy climbed onto Irish’s chest and curled himself into a tiny ball where their bodies pressed together. She laughed when he grumbled, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, fur ball.”
And with that, Kat awarded that moment as the happiest she’d been her entire life.
