Page 89 of Fighting for Irish
“Believe it, kitten,” he said, gruff with emotion. “And I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again, I swear it.”
She maneuvered herself until she sat astride his lap and held his swollen, bloody face in her delicate hands. “Does that mean you’ll stop fighting me? That I can keep you without having to worry you’re going to push me away ‘for my own good’?”
“I’ve come to realize you’re a tough opponent, so I’m tapping out.” Aiden smiled, cracking the dried blood on his face. “I’m yours for as long as you want me, kitten.”
“Good. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t intend on ever losing you. I love you, Aiden.”
“Ah, sweetheart, I love you, too,” he whispered against her lips. “So fucking much.”
Unable to hold back any longer, he captured her lips and kissed her for all he was worth. Breaking the kiss, Kat stood up. “Come on. I want to go home.”
As she crossed the room, it hit Aiden that he’d come so close to never seeing her again. Never having the chance to watch her take command of a room full of drunken hillbillies or make love to her as she gazed into his eyes and touched his soul.
A short time ago, his life had been dull and monotonous, and he’d had no intentions of changing it. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her in it. She brought him joy and spontaneity.
And, miraculously, love.
With a hand on the doorknob, she turned and tilted her head with a curious look on her face. Then she asked him a simple question that held a lot of weight.
“You with me, Irish?”
Aiden grabbed his duffel in one hand and met her at the door. He kissed her then answered honestly. “Yeah, kitten. I’m with you.”
She smiled, entwined her hand in his, and they walked toward the parking lot and their new life…together.
