To my surprise, Seamus helps me wash up after supper, drying the dishes in silence and placing them away. I stare at him as he takes my hand, leading me up the stairs. He has never helped with the dishes before. I wonder what is happening.
Seamus leads me through the bedroom and into the bathroom, running the shower as he turns to me with heated eyes. I meet his gaze, catching my breath as he slowly undresses us and tangles our fingers together, drawing me into the warm spray.
His breathing is harsh as he gently pushes me against the wall, sinking to his knees. Seamus is still holding my gaze as he lifts my leg, setting it over his shoulder, his fingers parting my folds.
As his eyes drop away from mine, focusing on his goal, his tongue circles my clit, my head tips back, my eyelids fluttering closed as I slide my fingers through his thick hair, a sigh escaping me.
“Like that, Seamus,” I moan, and he eagerly laps at me, his tongue curling as I come with a whimper, my hips bucking.
Seamus is on his feet in seconds, his hands on my waist, lifting me and stepping up against me, sliding home. I gasp, wrapping my arms around his neck as his lips close around my earlobe.
He sucks and nibbles on it, slowly withdrawing and pressing firmly into me again. It’s slow, unhurried, and wonderful, just as slow and thorough as his earlier kiss. I cling to him, my face buried in the crook of his neck as he continues making love to me. There’s no other way to describe this. I know he’s told me he loves me before, but after he opened up downstairs, this feelsmore.
My second orgasm washes over me like a warm, gentle breeze, leaving me languid and sleepy. Seamus sighs, pressing deep inside me, his breath hot on my ear as he comes.
“Is breá liom tú, mo bhean chéile.”
My heart clenches. I’m starting to believe him. Seamus sets me down, and we both shower, stepping out, drying ourselves, and moving into the bedroom.
He falls asleep quickly once we’re in bed with me tucked up in his arms. Once I’m sure he is sleeping, I gently place my hand over his heart.
“I love you, Seamus,” I whisper into the dark.
SEAMUS
A timid knock at the door to my office has me glancing up in surprise. Ronan nods to Liam, who stands and moves to open it.
“Fiona?” he asks, sounding surprised. A soft, musical voice replies.
“Hello Liam, Could I please speak to Seamus?”
“Uh, sure.” The lad scratches the back of his head. “Hold on.”
He steps back, turning and gesturing over his shoulder at a pretty blonde wearing jeans and an oversized T-shirt.
“Fiona wants a word, Seamus.”
She steps into the room, my eyebrows shooting up when I finally figure out why her face looks so familiar. She’s one of the strippers here. The one Tig has become friendly with in a little trio with Mellie, the bartender.
“Fiona.” I beckon her inside, and Ronan is on his feet instantly, holding out the chair he had been lounging in for her.
She blinks at him slowly, studying him with a measured look and stiffly taking a seat.
“What can I do for you?” I ask her, lounging back in my seat, steepling my fingers in front of my mouth.
“It’s….” She hesitates, glancing around at Liam and Ronan. I’m about to tell them to fuck off, but she plunges ahead. “It’s about Tiggy.”
My eyes snap to her face as she chews on her lip.
“And Tahlie.”
My eyes narrow, and whatever is written across my face has Fiona flinching back. Ronan’s hand lands on her shoulder, and she jumps, her gaze darting up to his. He smiles kindly at her, tipping his head to me.
“Whatever ye need to tell him, ye tell him,” he reassures her, a faint blush stealing across her milky white cheeks at his Irish brogue.
“It’s just….” Fiona sighs, shaking her head gently. “Tahlie’s been mouthing off. About Tiggy. Unpleasant things. I told the other girls to ignore her, but….” Again she hesitates, grimacing. I lean forward, needing her to get to the fucking point. Anything that concerns my wife concerns me, and if Fiona’s attitude is anything to go by, this should concern me a fucking lot.
“Butwhat?”