Page 77 of Fighting for Irish
Chapter Nineteen
Aiden stretched out on the chaise longue in the corner of the room, his arms hooked over the back behind his head. Thanks to the open design of the room, only a large archway separated the bedroom from the large bathroom, giving him the perfect view of Kat soaking in a Jacuzzi bubble bath surrounded by candles.
Originally, he’d planned to go to the first hole-in-the-wall motel he found, but at the last minute he gave in to his need to see her indulging in a little luxury. He knew that after tonight there was no telling how long they’d be on the run until he could figure things out. He wanted her to have at least one night of worry-free pampering.
When they reached the Princeton Suites, her jaw fell slack as she stared wide-eyed at the opulence of the marble floors and massive chandeliers. As he suspected, she’d never stayed in anything nicer than a Motel 6.
Once inside their room, he’d watched with a smile on his face as she discovered different amenities like a kid at FAO Schwarz at Christmas time. Seeing her in a state of giddy, childlike wonder had filled him with a sense of rightness. One he never expected to find.
Kat exhaled and tipped her head back, her long hair piled high. Steam from the bath dampened the tendrils that framed her face. Her skin glistened in the glow of the candlelight and he could just see the swells of her breasts before they disappeared into the frothy bubbles. It didn’t take much for his imagination—or memory—to fill in the view beneath the water. However, it took a hell of a lot for him to stay put and let her enjoy the experience to her heart’s content.
She looked positively regal, surrounded by the luxury of the taupe marble and gold faucets. The massive antique mirror hanging over the double sinks gave him twice the eyeful, making him twice as turned on.
Aiden shifted on the seat and adjusted himself under his shorts. He might have the willpower to keep his distance, but there wasn’t enough willpower in the world to keep him from getting hard when it came to Kat MacGregor.
Never had Aiden been so consumed by a woman. Emotionally, physically…completely.
Kat made him feel things he never thought possible. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he could fly and stop speeding bullets. He felt invincible. He felt like her hero.
She’d wanted him to join her, but he’d had to decline. As soon as she ran the water, he’d gotten to work. Concealing himself off to the side where she couldn’t see him, Aiden had stitched the torn flesh together as fast as possible. He muffled his pained grunts and growls with a washcloth stuffed in his mouth. A couple of times, it hurt so badly he thought he might pass out. It took deep breaths and an iron resolve to remain conscious and keep going.
He’d stitched a cut on Xander once, but sewing himself up was something else entirely. It stung like a motherfucker, and he hadn’t wanted to get piss-drunk to dull the pain like Xan did. Aiden probably would’ve made an exception with his “no alcohol” rule, but he wanted to keep a clear head and stay sharp. They’d have to be on the road early tomorrow.
Once the ugly patch job was done, he’d popped some ibuprofen, showered quickly, and slapped on some ointment and a clean bandage. He’d checked the locks on the door and made sure the front desk had instructions to call the room if anyone asked about them. Aiden didn’t think any of that was particularly necessary tonight, but better safe than sorry.
Now he sat in nothing but his thin fighting shorts with his dick trying to pitch a tent while he waited for her to finish relaxing in the tub. He hoped like hell she didn’t take much longer.
He had plans for her tonight.
…
Stepping out of the large Jacuzzi tub, Kat was hyperaware that Irish watched her with a predatory gaze, making knots tighten deep in her belly. She felt what he saw. The soap bubbles sliding down her naked body, her nipples puckering from the chill of the air and the heat of his stare.
He looked so damn sexy lounging on a white linen Victorian chaise. His rough masculinity contrasting with its graceful curves and elegant brocade trim. His shorts rode so low on his hips she could see where his dark trail of hair from his navel turned into the trim thatch around his erection. The colors of his tattoos stood out against the light fabric, making them almost three-dimensional under the glow of the dim recessed lighting.
Someone who didn’t know him well would think he was relaxed and unaffected. But she noticed the finer details. The cords in his neck strung tight, the hollows of his cheeks deepening as he worked his jaw in impatience. Then of course was the obvious and very large bulge in the crotch region of his shorts. All signs he was poised and ready to pounce. Signs that triggered reactions within herself that continued to surprise her. It was a heady feeling knowing he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.
Using a plush towel that felt like drying off with an expensive teddy bear, she made every movement a demonstration of super-slow motion. Starting at her neck, she dragged the towel down over her breasts, then plumped them up for no other reason than to torture the man. His hands went to the waistband of his shorts, then pushed them down and off. Palming his erection, he started to stroke it almost lazily, though his eyes burned with hunger. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Now who’s being tortured?
Touché.
Not to be outdone, she moved lower over her flat belly and past her bare mound. Then Kat faced away from him and placed one foot on the small step leading to the tub. Making sure to bend at the waist, she pushed the towel down the length of her leg in one smooth motion. She felt air caress the lips of her sex where she was now wet for reasons other than the bath.
“I didn’t know you had such a sadistic side to you, kitten.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said while pulling the towel up her other leg.
“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.
Not bothering to hide her smirk, she exited the open-concept bathroom. The soft pile of the carpet flowed up around the edges of her feet and between her toes. The floor-to-ceiling windows took up the entire outer wall of the room. Luxurious and heavy drapes the color of wine reminded her of curtains framing the stage of an opera house. And considering she could see her reflection perfectly in the glass, she looked like a one-woman show.
Kat briefly wondered if she would find a sticker in the corner that read “objects may appear sexier than they are” because the woman staring back at her seemed confident, alluring. The kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees, proverbial or otherwise.
So let’s give it a shot.
When she reached the bottom of the chaise, Irish dropped his feet to either side on the floor. Heat flushed between her legs at the sight of his erection jutting thick and proud from his body. She knew how smooth and hard it felt in her hands, her sex, and even her mouth. Remembering how much she enjoyed pleasuring him, she crawled up the chair. That’s when she noticed the bandage and was reminded of his wound. She’d seen it stitched up when he took a shower.
“I’m still mad you didn’t let me help with that,” she said, frowning. “Does it hurt very badly?”
