I’m so lost in thought that I don’t see the figure lurking by the back gate, or see the hand that shoots out to grab my elbow until I’m already pressed against a firm chest, another hand over my mouth as my eyes go wide and I let out a muffled scream that’s entirely swallowed my the broad palm against my lips.
“Hush, lass,” a gruff voice says in my ear, and my heart leaps into my throat.
It’s Niall.
“What are you doing?” I hiss as I twist away from him, my heart racing for a different reason now that I know it’s him, and not some actual kidnapper. “What the hell, Niall?” I ignore the sudden pulse between my thighs—now that I’m not actually being abducted, the thought of him grabbing me and pulling me forcefully into his arms has a certain appeal. Even better if he’d silenced me with a kiss instead of his hand—I shove the thought away.What’s gotten into you? One kinky evening in a sex club and suddenly you’re a maniac.
“Coming to see you,” Niall says with a cocky grin. “It’s been since that night in London, and that wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of encounters, thanks to your fiancé.” He says the last word with some bitterness, and it’s hard for me to blame him, exactly. Connor wasn’t kind to him that night—not that I can blame Connor, either,
It’s all a mess, one that feels rapidly more and more difficult to unravel.
“Are you stalking me?” I demand. I try to keep my tone light, but my pulse is still fluttering in my throat. I remember Connor’s words:He’s just using you to keep you from marrying me, and save Liam’s place—and a tiny bit of doubt creeps in. What if he is following me, watching, waiting for information that could help Liam? What if all of this is a ruse, and I’m stupidly falling for it because he’s gorgeous and charismatic and makes me feel very similar things to what Connor has awakened in me?
Niall chuckles, his muscled body moving fluidly so that I’m angled against the vine-covered, high stone wall surrounding the back garden, in the shadows so that no one passing by could see us unless they’re really looking. “No, lass,” he says in that same deep voice, and in the dim light I see that heat, that longing that I’ve seen before in his face. It’s as if he doesn’t really try to shutter it, wanting me to see that he yearns for me.
It’s intoxicating, especially after Connor’s distance, and his insistence that he has no intention to do anything even close toyearning.
“I did want to see you, though,” he murmurs, his hand skating over the side of my waist. His palm is rough, and it catches slightly on the dove-grey silk. “This is a lovely dress. Shame that the man who got to see you in it for most of tonight isn’t the one who deserves you.”
“Oh?” I tilt my chin up, trying not to let him see the way he’s starting to make me breathless with just a touch. “And would that man be you?”
“Ah, no, lass,” Niall says with a soft chuckle, his hand dropping to my hip. “I don’t deserve you. Not a whit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Because believe me, lass, there’s nothing I want more than you.”
His words make me feel a little faint. I can feel my pulse thundering through my veins, my thighs squeezing together with the arousal he’s caused to flare up, and the silk of my skirt flutters around my knees in the green and flower scented breeze as Niall’s mouth moves closer to mine.
“More than you want Liam to keep his place?” I ask, in the breath before his lips come down onto mine, and I see his face tense as he pulls back.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you’re a difficult one, aren’t you?” he asks, his lips thinning. “Almost as bad as the man you’re marrying. Are you still marrying him, Saoirse?”
“Why do you want to know?” I glare up at him. “So you can try to convince me otherwise again?”
“Saoirse, if I thought I could convince you not to marry Connor McGregor, I’d do so on my knees if I had to. But if I’m telling you the truth, I don’t think it would make a damn bit of difference. You’re as stubborn as you are beautiful, and once you set your mind to something, well—you’re damned well going to do it.” He lets out a breath. “It’s part of why—”
Niall cuts himself off then, and my heart leaps as I look up at him, wondering what he was about to say.
“Why are you here, then, if you don’t think you can talk me out of marrying Connor?” I whisper. I’m not even sure I want to know the answer. I think it could be more devastating to me than anything that’s happened so far, if I believed it.
“Hell if I know,” Niall growls, moving closer to me again. I can smell the woodsy, spicy scent of his cologne, the warm leather of his jacket, the faint hint of oil and grease from his bike. He reminds me of Connor in that way, rugged and with an edge that frightens and excites me all at once, but for Niall it’s not a face that he put on to escape what he used to be. This is justhim.It always has been, for as long as I’ve known him.
Maybe I really do have a type, and it’s not what I thought it was.
“I’m here because I wanted to see you, Saoirse,” he murmurs. “Against all my better judgement, Ineededto see you. And yes, I wanted to know if anything changed about you marrying that bastard, but I didn’t expect that it would have. I just—wanted—”
“If you really were stalking me, you’d know I bought my wedding dress today,” I say softly, feeling my breath catch in my lungs. “It’s really quite lovely.”
One of his hands is still resting on my hip. He drops the other, reaching for my left hand, and he holds it up so that he can look at my ring. The diamond and sapphires twinkle softly in the dim light, and Niall lets out a breath, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’d never have been able to give you a ring like this, lass,” he murmurs. “Even if I’d been lucky enough to have a chance. But I was never good enough to be where a McGregor is.”
Something in my chest aches at that, squeezing. “You might be,” I say softly, my heartbeat speeding at the boldness of what I’m saying, the danger of it. “If you can be patient. Later, after I give Connor a son—”
“I haven’t forgotten what you said before.” Niall’s thumb is pressing against the back of my hand, his face solemn. “If I’m being honest, Saoirse, I don’t know how to feel. I don’t like the idea of being your secret. But I also never thought I’d even get that close to you—this close, even.”
He drops my hand, both of his tightening on my waist, and he leans into me against the stone wall, his mouth lowering to mine. I don’t resist, even though I know the moss and vines on the wall will stain my dress, that his rough palms will snag it, that his mouth has no businessbeingon mine. That he has no business touching me like this now—and if Connor had his way—ever.
It occurs to me then that there might be more to Connor’s jealousy over Niall—because heisjealous, no matter how much he claims otherwise—than just the fact that Niall’s loyalty is to Liam. Niall is a threat to him, in a way that me fucking the pool boy or my personal trainer or my masseuse isn’t.
Niall is what Connor wishes he could be. Unapologetically himself, rough around the edges and free of responsibility or family duty beyond what he assigns to himself, what he believes he owes. And I know Connor must hate that.
More than that, Connor knows Niall can satisfy me, in the way that a quick poolside fuck with the cabana boy never could, after what Connor has introduced me to.