Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Finlay

I 'd been driving home from a late meeting with a potential new supplier for botanicals when I'd felt the urge to swing past my new house. I was still living in my rental cottage, knowing my new house would need some shining up before I could fully move in, and I was looking forward to the challenge of making it my new home. Particularly because I knew I could wheedle Orla into giving design advice. I loved how cozy she'd made her cottage but had also kept it streamlined and functional without too much clutter. I hoped she'd be able to guide me in the same direction.

When I'd seen her lorry and the light spilling from the window, I immediately pulled over, annoyance lacing through me. Did this woman ever stop working? It was far too late for her to be at my house, making notes on projects that needed to get done, and I planned to tell her. Even if I had to tuck her into bed myself. The damn woman needed rest, not to be burning the candle at both ends.

What I hadn't expected was to find Orla crying, alone, in my upstairs bedroom. Instantly, I crossed the room and lifted her into my arms, carrying her downstairs and into the light-filled living room where the only piece of furniture—a faded couch draped in dust cloths—sat. Dropping onto the sofa, I cradled her on my lap, stroking my hands up and down her back.

"Shhh, darling. Shhh. I'm here. What's happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I swear." Orla batted at my hands, trying to shift herself off my lap, but I was used to this by now. She always pulled back from my touch, but there was no way I'd let her close up on me, not when she was in a state like this.

"Tell me what's happened." I held her close, and she rested her head on my shoulder, finally stopping her attempts to push me away.

"Och, it's nothing, Fin. Just having a moment."

"Tell me."

"There's not much to tell." Orla shifted, a note of distress in her voice.

"Just spontaneous crying on job sites? Is this how you secure all your jobs then? You cry and they feel bad, so you get the work?"

Orla poked me in the ribs, and I laughed.

"Rude."

"Is it because you're in love with me and you're worried I'll wallpaper the room mustard yellow when you really want it to be pink?"

Orla sighed and poked me again, gouging her finger in deeper this time.

"You can do whatever you like in your own home."

"Great, mustard it is."

"Such a soothing color," Orla said.

"If you don't like it, now's the time to speak up."

"Wouldn't you want like a soft blue or a sage green? Something relaxing?"

"I want whatever color doesn't make you cry."

"Fin, I'm sorry. I just had a moment is all. It happens."

"Why can't you tell me? I want to support you, Orla." At that, Orla pulled back, a world of emotions in her eyes. I waited as she considered, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her sadness away.

"I always wanted my own bedroom when I was a little girl. It just hit me wrong, I guess." Her eyes shifted away from mine and I understood that I wasn't getting the whole truth. And maybe I never would. Maybe that was something that I would need to accept about Orla and how she protected herself. It was likely easier for her to keep hurtful memories buried than it was to expose them to scrutiny. I couldn't say I blamed her for that either.

"That makes sense. Was it because you wanted space?"

"Aye. Just somewhere private to call my own. Nothing was my own. I didn't even have a journal or a box of toys or…anything really. Not even a bag that my cousins wouldn't go through. It's hard to live with zero space or privacy."

"What happened to your family? "

Orla's eyes drifted away for a moment and then returned to mine.

"Not much to tell. Never knew my dad. Mum died of addiction when I was young. Her half-sister took me in, but just barely. There was nothing for her to give. Which is why I had no real space to call my own. When you finally get it, well, you treasure it, you ken?"

"Aye." I thought back to my own upbringing, where wealth had provided me with more space than I needed, to the point of loneliness at times. Different sides of the coin, but some of the same emotions, I supposed. "I wish I could take the hurt away for you, Orla. But all I can do is say that I'm always here to listen and I want you to know that I would give you the world if I could. Anything you want, and it's yours. Name it."

Orla lifted her chin, studying me.

"You're serious?"

"Of course, I am. You mean…och…" I stopped short. Now wasn't the time to tell this woman that I'd fallen head over heels for her. It had only taken one look, hadn't it? A part of me had known, even when I'd ignored it, that my life would never be the same after Orla. It was imperative that I move slowly with her because I knew she frightened easily at any semblance of closeness. Her walls were high, and I'd seen them from a mile away. But damn it, I wanted her. All of her. I wanted to be free to give her gifts and plan the future together. To wake up next to her and talk about our problems together. A partnership. In heart and home. I'd never craved this with someone before, not in the way I did with Orla, and it killed me to creep along as slowly as we did, each day nudging her closer to trusting me .

"I mean … what?" Orla asked, her eyebrows winging up her forehead.

"You mean everything to me, Orla." My voice rasped and I brushed a thumb softly across her cheek, holding her gaze, wishing she could feel the emotions that threatened to strangle me. Never had I had this overwhelming need to protect and care for someone before, yet at the same time knowing she didn't need me at all. It was humbling, really, to know the things that Orla likely had gone through and still persevered. While every girlfriend before her had always wanted fancy gifts from me, Orla refused anything I tried to give her—aside from a gift for Goldie, that is. No, she didn't need me at all, but I hoped she'd want me at her side.

"You mean that, don't you?" Orla bit her lower lip, and my stomach clenched as need rose.

"I do. I promised myself I'd give you the time you need to grow comfortable with me. But I'm there, Orla. I'm already there. You have me."

Her eyes widened and her breath quickened.

"You're quite serious …"

"Aye." I wanted to bury myself in her, both physically and metaphorically, and never come out. What had become absolutely certain over the last few weeks was that this woman was my sanctuary, my home, and I would do anything to keep her happy. It was scary, really, how months ago I thought I was fine, content in my life. And then Orla blew in and nothing had been the same since. Now I couldn't imagine a future without her in it.

Orla raised a hand, tapping it lightly against her chest.

"I have all these…feelings. And I don't quite know where to put them. "

My breath caught. It was the closest she'd come to admitting she cared for me, and I didn't want to scare her away. No sudden movements.

"Do you want to tell me about these emotions?"

"I'm not sure how to," Orla admitted, still tapping on her chest.

"Would you like to show me instead?"

Orla tilted her head, considering my words.

"Can I? Would you let me?" Her gaze sharpened, her pupils dilating slightly as she looked at me, and I realized she was talking about her desire for me. Instantly, I hardened at the mere thought of her touch.

"You can show me whatever you want, Orla." I chose my words carefully, not wanting to presume anything.

"And I can be in control?" Orla stressed the words, clearly needing confirmation from me.

"If you're suggesting what I'm thinking, then yes, one thousand percent you can be in control." I raised my hands and then made a great show of sitting on them. "There. See? All yours. Please. Show me anything you'd like."

"Nobody has ever just let me…explore before." Excitement flashed and I bit back a groan as Orla shifted, reaching out to trace a hand across my chest. She sent me a flirtatious look, still biting that gorgeous lower lip, and a shiver of anticipation ran through me. I hadn't expected this side of her, and it was another aspect to Orla that I found myself falling for.

She had a mischievous side, it seemed.

"I told you that I would give you anything you liked. Explore away. I'm yours."

My heart is yours. My body is yours. My future is yours .

I left that part unsaid, my pulse picking up as she unbuttoned my shirt, trailing a finger across my chest and down to my pants, where I was very clearly affected by her touch.

"You're so strong. Stronger than you look," Orla said, bringing both hands to my chest to stroke my muscles, and I grinned at her.

"Us posh lads do love a personal trainer."

At that she paused, her mouth gaping open.

"You do not have a personal trainer."

"I don't, no. But I'll get one if it keeps you touching me this way."

Her lips curled up in a sultry smile and she shifted to straddle me, and I groaned as she settled over my hard length, still imprisoned in my trousers. Rocking slightly, she made a soft cooing sound of delight that would forever be imprinted on my brain.

"This feels nice."

"It does at that." I gritted my teeth, calling on my power to keep my hands under my legs, even though I wanted nothing more than to touch her until she cried out in ecstasy. Instead, I waited, allowing her to discover my body at her whim, and prayed that I wouldn't embarrass myself in my pants as her fingers stroked my skin gently.

"Is it hard for you? When I do this?" Orla rocked over me, a teasing light in her eyes, before lowering her lips an inch from mine.

"I'm hard for you, if that's what you're asking." I grinned as she chuckled, and then her lips were on mine, and I groaned into her mouth. She deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping inside, and desire shot through me as her slick tongue toyed with mine. I sucked gently, her soft mewl of surprise delighting me, and I wanted to thrust upward, to rub myself against her core. Instead, I stayed still, though it was becoming difficult to breathe, as our kiss intensified.

Orla broke away, burying her face in my neck, gasping as she continued to roll her hips over me, her body showing her what she wanted even if her heart wasn't ready for it. She was all strength and beauty, a powerhouse of a woman, and I wanted to sink myself inside her until the only words on her lips were my name.

She pulled back, removing herself from my body as she stood, and I almost whimpered I was so desperate for her hands on me. But still I sat on my hands, not touching, keeping my promise to her.

"You'll really let me do what I want, won't you? And I'll be in full control?"

"I'll give you anything you want, Orla." I'd meant the words when I said them, and I'd repeat them a thousand times over if she needed to hear it.

"I want to taste you." Orla licked her lips and the blood drained from my face as a rush of desire washed over me so hard that I swear I had wee dots dance across my vision from need. "I want my mouth on you."

"By all means," I said, gritting my teeth. "Be my guest."

Orla dropped to her knees in front of me, and I lifted my hips as she unbuckled my trousers, pulling them and my pants down my legs. I sprung free and I swear I almost lost it when she smiled, kneeling between my legs, my hard length at her lips.

When she took me inside, her soft lips encasing me, a slippery slide of wet heat on my hard length, I almost shouted. I wanted to close my eyes, to loll my head back and stare at the ceiling, anything to make this experience go on longer. But I couldn't. I couldn't look away from where this entrancing woman took her power by pleasuring me. Unable to touch, only able to watch, caught on the slippery slope into love, it was the most erotic experience I'd had in my life.

Her small hand cupped me, fingers surrounding my length, and stroked, making soft sounds of pleasure that vibrated against me, her tongue wet against my skin. She sucked, the motion pulling deep, and I groaned, wanting to bury my hands in her hair. Over and over she licked and explored, leisurely taking her pleasure, while I did everything in my power to pull myself back from orgasm. I never wanted this moment to end.

Was there ever anything as beautiful as watching a woman take power in the bedroom? Granted, we weren't in the bedroom, but even so, I'd never expected this of Orla. The more she explored, the more excited she became, her body writhing on the floor as her kisses intensified, until she suddenly pulled back, her mouth making a soft popping sound when she stopped.

Her lips were slick, and I held my breath, wanting to kiss her so badly it made my stomach clench with pain.

"I want more," Orla whispered.

"Whatever you want," I promised her, wincing at the need that filled me. "But bloody hell, Orla, will you let me touch you? I'm dying over here."

Sweat had broken out on my brow, and I was physically shaking with my need to touch her .

"Really?" Orla's eyes lit as she realized just how on edge I was. "You want me that much?"

"You just drove me crazy with your mouth. You're a goddess among women, the only person I go to sleep thinking about, and I wake up with your name on my lips. I'm begging you, Orla. Have mercy. You're killing me."

"I had no idea I had this kind of power." Orla idly stroked her hand against my length, and I hissed, knowing how close I was.

"You have all the power. You always will. But just please, please, please…let me touch you too."

Orla raised her eyes from where she kneeled and grinned at me.

"Och, go on then. Show me what you've got."