Chapter Twenty-Two

Eamon

I'm on top of the world, sitting on the dock of the best local pizza joint in Wilmington with my beautiful girl nestled next to me and friends across from me. After we left the practice field, we decided to make our way to the River Walk for dinner. We've been sitting here for a couple of hours, talking about anything and everything, while the water lapping against the dock provides ambiance. Teagan has spent the majority of the evening flirting with Layla, making her blush any chance he can, and this amuses Norah to no end. I could get drunk on her laugh. It's music to my ears and I've determined that I'll do anything to make her laugh more.

I also can't keep my hands to myself. If I'm not brushing hair behind her ears, lacing our fingers together, or putting my arm around her, I'm brushing a kiss to her temple or trailing my fingers along her shoulder. I'm well and truly addicted to this girl. I wouldn't mind if we found ourselves alone soon so that I could kiss her properly. The need to feel her hands in my hair and her lush body pressed up against mine is overwhelming. My cock twitches and I squirm in my chair to hide the evidence of what she does to me. She doesn't help matters when she absentmindedly rests her hand on my upper thigh. She's unconsciously torturing me. I wonder how I can call this night to an end without being obvious.

As if reading my mind, Norah announces, "I hate to end the fun, but I have a full day of classes tomorrow, starting bright and early.

Teagan nods and pushes back from the table. "Aye, we have practice before the sun is even awake, so we probably better head back too." He stretches his arms above his head, then exclaims, "Oh, shite. My car's still at the field."

"Do you need a ride?" Layla asks him, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

"You wouldn't mind?" he asks with a grin.

"It's on my way, and I'm guessing these two want some alone time," Layla nods towards Norah and me.

"You're right. We would," I say quickly. God bless Layla. "Teag, you have your key?"

"Aye. I won't wait up." He winks at me and gestures for Layla to lead the way. "Shall we, lovely?"

Norah gives her friend a quick hug and tells her to text when she gets home. I hear her whisper, "Have fun." in Layla's ear before turning back to me.

"Ready?" I ask, snagging her hand in mine.

She nods, intertwining our fingers. "Tonight was fun. I'm glad we did this, and I'm glad Layla and Teagan came too. It looked like they were enjoying themselves, don't you think?"

I chuckle and release her hand to wrap my arm around her waist. "He'll be courtin' her by the end of the week, I'm sure."

"Courting?" Norah asks dubiously. "That sounds pretty old-fashioned."

I chuckle again. "It's what we call dating in Ireland. Didn't you have anyone trying to court you on your trip?"

I don't know why I asked. The thought of her even talking to another guy makes me feel like a possessive arsehole.

"Ha!" She laughs. "No, definitely not. Flirting, yes, but nothing more than that."

I don't believe that for a second, so I tell her, "Chances are, if they were flirting, they were trying to court you."

"Well, I did have one proposition, but courting was not what they were asking of me." She tenses under my arm.

"Norah, did someone try to—" I can barely get the words out.

"No," she quickly assures me. "We had been chatting in Temple Bar, flirting. He simply asked if I wanted to head to his place. I declined, and he left it at that. No harm done."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Smart bloke."

When we reach the car, Norah turns to lean against the passenger door, crossing her arms over her chest. I don't let my eyes linger too long on the V of her shirt.

"Don't worry, Kennedy. No Irishman tickled my fancy while I was there."

"That's because you were in the wrong part of the country," I tease. "All the good-looking ones, or just the one actually, lived away from Dublin. Had you met him, chances are your fancies would absolutely have been tickled."

To reiterate my point, I suddenly grab her waist and tickle her. She squeals and tries to twist away, but I band my arms around her, holding her firmly in place. Her laugh fills the parking lot. God, I love that sound. I keep tickling her until she cries out, "I surrender! No more! Please!"

Chuckling, I still my fingers but refuse to relinquish my hold on her. I keep one arm wrapped around her while I trail my free hand up her arm to her neck. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You set yourself up for that one, love."

"Hmm. I suppose I did," she muses, eyes sparkling as she looks up at me.

She unfolds her arms to slowly snake her palms up my chest to my shoulders, then down to my biceps. Her caress leaves a trail of fire in its wake. My grip tightens on her waist as I press into her, leaving no space between our bodies. I wind my fingers into the hair at the base of her head, tilting her head to the side to pepper her neck with slow, feather-light kisses. She arches into me, letting out a soft moan that drowns out the noises around us and has me positively feral. I skim the tip of my nose from her shoulder to her earlobe, then flick my tongue just under it. Norah whimpers and moves her hands back to my chest, clutching my shirt in her fists.

"Eamon," she gasps.

"Hmm?" I hum, moving to kiss and nip along her jaw.

A small voice in my head warns me to stop. We are in a public parking lot for God's sake. And more importantly, I promised her that she was in control. But I can't get enough of her touch and those noises she's making.

"People are staring," she whispers, gently pushing at my chest.

I let out a low growl, reluctantly removing my lips from her skin, and turn my head to the left to see a group of teenage boys openly staring and not so subtly adjusting themselves. I glare and take a step in their direction, just to scare them off. It works because they turn and flee.

"Little fuckers," I say, turning back to Norah. "I can't believe I stopped for a group of teenage wankers. This is the most action they'll see for the rest of the year."

Norah snorts in amusement, then erupts into a full laugh. Rubbing her hands over her face, she says, "Oh my god. I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or angry. You probably ruined their fun."

"Doubtful," I grumble. "They'll probably use that to get off later."

Norah bursts into another fit of giggles. I don't love the idea of them wanking off to an image of Norah, but maybe they can use this as their first lesson in how to properly love on a woman.

"I could have gone my entire life without the mental image of a bunch of teenage boys masturbating to the thought of you kissing me." She laughs.

"Ach, it's not me they're going to be thinking about. It will be you and those little noises you make," I tease, enjoying the tinge of blush spreading across her cheeks. Grinning, I lean in to kiss her forehead. "Come on, love. Let's get you home. "

Norah

"I'd like to walk you to your door," Eamon says, pulling my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles, "but I'm afraid I'd be sorely tempted to continue what we started in the parking lot."

"Oh," I breathe out then suck my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to conceal how disappointed I am.

Eamon's hungry eyes zero in on my mouth. He exhales heavily, his breath brushing over my face. "So, I'm going to kiss you goodnight and watch you walk into your house. Then you're going to text me once you're safely inside with the doors locked."

"Do I get a say in the matter?" I ask softly.

"Not tonight, love. I have to be up for practice sooner than I'd like, and you have an early class," he reminds me. "And time with you, like that, is not something I want to rush."

A rush of heat through my core has me pressing my thighs together. Had it not been for the snickering teenagers in the parking lot drawing my attention away from the feel of Eamon's hot breath on my skin, I would have let him carry on for far longer than what's acceptable in a public place. When I arched into him, I could feel his erection growing against my stomach. I expected it to trigger my fight-or-flight response, but all it did was turn me on. I wanted his mouth all over me, to feel his skin under my hands and my tongue. I've seen him without a shirt, but touching the masterpiece that is his body will be so much better than simply worshiping him with my eyes.

"Well," I stammer, "when you put it that way."

"What time do you get done with classes?"

"Four o'clock," I tell him, "but I have a meeting with the theater department from five until seven."

Eamon's lips turn down in displeasure. "Damn. I'm done at three, but I have mountains of homework to do. Some red-headed lass keeps distracting me."

I snort in amusement, rolling my eyes at him. "What happened to that excellent focus you were talking about?"

"Oh, it's still there. Just directed at other things." He winks at me.

"You're incorrigible, Eamon Kennedy," I quip, shaking my head.

"Absolutely. Now, let me kiss you goodnight, Norah."

Before I can even respond, his mouth descends on mine in a firm but tender kiss. He brushes his tongue over the seam of my lips, and I gladly grant him access, twining my tongue with his in a gloriously slow rhythm. All too soon, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.

"Go inside, love," he says in a pained whisper. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Eamon," I whisper back, dipping my head to kiss him quickly one more time before climbing out of the car and up the steps to my door. I unlock it, then turn to wave at him before walking inside. Once the door is securely shut and locked, I send him the text he requested.

Norah: Safely inside, doors locked. Be safe driving home.

Eamon: Always. Sweet dreams, Norah.

I peek out of the window, watching him drive away, and have no doubt that my dreams will be very sweet tonight.

* * *

Tuesday morning is here too soon and I hit the snooze on my alarm about five times before dragging myself out of bed. Seriously considering playing hooky, I trudge into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before taking a shower. Since I'm late getting up, I skip washing my hair and just throw it up into a messy bun. I desperately want to don my sweats and favorite hoodie, but I need to be somewhat put together for the meeting later. With the production only weeks away, we need to iron out the details.

Thirty minutes later, I'm dressed in a long emerald tunic-style top over black leggings and gray knee-high boots. I put on enough makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes but don't overdo it. I hear my phone chirp an alert for a text message and reach for it. It's from Eamon. My heart flips in my chest, and a grin spreads across my face.

Eamon: Good morning, beautiful. I dreamed of you all night .

My cheeks heat as I text him back.

Norah: Good morning, yourself. Oh yeah? All perfectly appropriate, I'm sure.

Eamon: I'll never tell. ;)

Norah: Cheeky. I guess that means I'll keep my dreams to myself then.

Eamon: I take it back. Trade a dream for a dream?

Norah: Haha! Nice try, Kennedy. A lady never dirty-dreams and tells. ;)

I'm thoroughly enjoying the banter when a loud knock sounds at the door. Startled, I shriek and almost drop my phone. I quickly compose myself and hurry to the door, fully expecting Layla, though I don't know why she's knocking when she has a key. I open the door, and standing there in all his deliciousness, arm propped on the door frame above his head, is the subject of my dreams.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in shock.

"You can't just expect me to stay put while you tease me with words like ‘dirty dreams,'" Eamon says, smirking devilishly at me.

"But you—when did you—" I sputter.

Eamon laughs and steps inside. "My first class isn't until nine, and I remembered yours is at eight. I wanted to give you a ride."

Grinning like an idiot, I watch as his eyes slowly move from my face, down my body, and back up. He lets out a low whistle and steps towards me.

"You look breathtaking." He leans in to kiss me before adding, "This color is perfect on you."

"Thank you," I reply. "You don't look too bad yourself."

That's an understatement. I'm practically drooling at the sight of him in a navy blue V-neck sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing his corded forearms. He's paired it with light-wash jeans and black motorcycle boots.

"Want a ride?"

I raise a brow, smirking at him.

"To class." He feigns shock. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Grady."

Laughing, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. "Yes, I'd love a ride…to class. Thank you. "

I stretch onto my toes and kiss his cheek before heading out the door.

* * *

We've been cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie until I make the mistake of kissing Eamon. One thing leads to another and I'm on my back with my legs wrapped around his waist as he sucks on my neck. He rocks into me, his cock hard and pressing the seam of my jeans into my clit. I moan in response, angling my hips to add more pressure. Taking that as the encouragement it's meant to be, he slips a warm hand over my exposed stomach towards my breasts, and as soon as he cups one of them, I freeze. He immediately senses the switch and crawls off of me.

Growling in frustration, I bury my face in my hands. My stupid, traitorous body and its trauma responses ruin everything. I want this man. I want to touch him and for him to touch me. But the moment his hands are on me, my body locks up and that familiar panic starts to set in. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won't hurt me, so why can't my mind and body get on the same page?

"I'm sorry, Eamon," I mutter, ashamed of myself.

"Norah, look at me."

Peeking through my fingers, I see him sitting across from me on the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together. He's so beautiful. Even after all of that, I still want nothing more than to touch him. With measured movements, he lifts his hands and gently grasps my wrists, prying my fingers from my face.

"You don't need to apologize, love. I know this is hard for you. I'm not in a hurry," he says softly.

"But I want this with you." My eyes prick with tears so I squeeze them tight.

"We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere," he tells me softly.

The sad part is that I'm the one that's in a hurry. I'm the one who's ready to have a fully physical relationship with Eamon .

"Can we just…try that again?" I ask, slipping my hands into his. "But slower? Like glacially slow? Maybe if my mind and body have time to adjust together, I won't freeze up."

Eamon inhales deeply as his eyes search mine. What does he see in them? Is it fear? Desperation for intimacy? Or maybe he sees how badly I want to heal. Finally, he nods and stands, pulling me to my feet with him.

"Come on. I have an idea," he says, leading me toward the front door.

"Where are we going?"

I'm not sure if he remembers what we were doing before I panicked, but it wasn't appropriate anywhere but behind closed doors.

Ushering me onto the front porch, he all but drags me to his car. I climb into the front seat when he opens the door for me and watch as he lopes around to the driver's side. Once he's in, he turns the ignition and backs out of the drive.

"Eamon, where are we going?" I ask again, completely confused.

"You said you wanted to go glacially slow, so we're going dancing."

Dancing? What does he mean we're going dancing? And how the hell is that supposed to help?

"Um. Explain please."

"The whole point of us taking things slow is so you're used to my touch, aye?" He glances over at me with questioning eyes.

"Yes?"

"Dancing requires close proximity and touch, but we'll be in a public place. All the times you've started to panic, it's because we've been secluded. Nobody else was around. My thoughts are that after your attack, being alone with a man is what triggers your fight or flight response."

Huh. He's right. I've never shied away from his touch when we're at Paddy's or with our friends. How have I never considered that? A knot forms in my throat at how thoughtful and observant he is. Then I remember I can't dance.

"There's just one problem though," I say.

"What's that love?"

"I don't dance. No, I can't dance." I admit, my face flaming in humiliation .

"Good," he says with a grin.

"Good? Why on earth is that good?" Eamon has lost his mind.

"Neither can I, so we can learn together." He reaches out and laces our fingers together.

"Where exactly do you plan on dancing?" I question.

"There are ballroom dancing lessons at the student rec center tonight." He shrugs nonchalantly. "We'll be a few minutes late, but I'm sure we can slip in the back."

My jaw drops as I stare at the side of his head. "How do you know this?"

"Don't you read the newsletters they send out every week?"

"No. What newsletter?"

He just laughs as he pulls into the parking lot outside of the rec center and parks the car a few rows away from the entrance. He turns to me and asks expectantly, "Shall we?"

Nervous energy washes over me and I fidget with the hem of my shirt. I don't think I'm even dressed properly for this, but when we walk into the back of the room, the instructor waves us in. Salsa just happens to be the style being taught, so there is no chance we won't be touching.

Eamon was right. He cannot dance. We've spent more time stepping on each others' feet than actually dancing, but his hands are on me at all times. Forgetting that I'm supposed to take a step back when he steps forward, our bodies are constantly colliding, making my breath hitch and my pulse skyrocket when our hips meet with each seductive swivel. My body doesn't freeze once. If anything, it's overheating. By the time the lesson ends, I'm ready to take our practicing back to my place.

"Come inside," I whisper against Eamon's mouth as he kisses me goodnight on my front porch.

"Norah," he groans, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" I whine.

"Glacially slow, remember?" He pulls back to look at me. "Salsa dancing felt like hitting the fast-forward button."

Raising a brow at him, I say, "I don't see the problem here, Kennedy. "

"We're not rushing this," he says with finality and a quick peck to my lips. "Being with you isn't a conquest to be made by a certain date. When we reach that point, I don't want there to be any doubt or fear for either of us."

God, is he real? I don't think he realizes that his words make me burn for him even more.