“A what? Never mind.” I wrestled his hands away. “It’s bedtime for bonzo.” I turned him, gave him a hard push. He fell on the couch. When I returned with a blanket to tuck him in, he grabbed my arm and yanked me on top of him.
I perched on my elbows above him. “What’s this about?”
His eyebrows jumped across his forehead. “Den’ ye drive all your men to drink?”
“Silly mick, if you weren’t drinking yourself stupid, you’d be chasing pots of gold at the end of rainbows.”
His grin fell away under red tingeing in his cheeks. “That’s mean.”
I smirked. “Oh, aye.”
He flipped me over and kicked my knees out with his legs. Then he settled his hips between my thighs. “I surrender.” Whiskey puffed against my mouth. “If I were honest, I surrendered the day ye walked into Lloyd’s local.”
For the first time, he let me feel how aroused he was. I grabbed a fistful of curls and yanked his head back. His body followed. Free of his weight, I powered a knee into his gut. His breath rushed out with an oomph.
I slipped off the couch and stooped over him. “You get drunk to work up the nerve to have sex with me?”
“Liquid courage.”
A rush of resentment curled my hands into fists. I ached for this man, who would kill for me and die for me, but wouldn’t fuck me sober. “Go to hell.”
“Aw Evie, it’s not like that. It’s…” He ran his hands over his face and slurred, “Ye know I’m…I’ve not touched a woman until…”
His eyes dropped to my chest. I crossed my arms and cleared my throat.
“Ye know wha’ I was thinking about that night ye walked into Lloyd’s?”
“Altar boys and dried up convent titties?”
“Jaysus, no.” He fidgeted with the hem of his tee. “But shagging was heavy on me mind. Sitting a’ that bar, thinking I’d never see a woman again, I felt sick. The decision to break me vow—had I wanted to—was taken from me.”
“Should’ve made it easier.”
“Easier? Having the existence of women wiped clean from the planet made me realize I would never know the love of one.”
Never. Despite his slurred statement, I felt the pain of that one word. “That’s fucked up.”
“Right.” He leaned forward, stared at the floor. “Then a woman walked in. The sexiest, most courageous thing I’d ever seen. I wanted…I never wanted something so badly.”
“Oh my God.” How had I misjudged him so completely that night? “You’re a priest. I thought I was safe with you.”
His head shot up. “Ye were. I mean ye are. I wouldn’t have—” He pushed back his shoulders. “I’ve never even bashed the bishop.”
My jaw dropped.
“Ye know, rubbed one off—”
“Stop. Shit. I know what it means. Christ, Roark.” I crouched before him. “You told me to trust your discipline. Despite all your teasing, I did trust you. And now you’re drunk enough to forgo it? Your timing sucks.” Blood boiling, I paced in front of the couch. “Sleep it off or take a cold shower. And for the record, I fucking hate your vow.”
His expression shuttered, fingers digging into his jean-clad thighs. He stared at me for a long time, carving away my anger. But I glared right back, willing him to understand. Then something changed. The air between us shifted, sizzled, charged.
He rose from the couch, stepped toe-to-toe with me, looking suspicious and gorgeous, smiling down at me.
I put a hand over the low waistline of my sweatpants, as if to hide the frenzy pulsing below. “What are you—”
He silenced me with a kiss. Irish whiskey flavored the tongue dancing with mine. My already rapid pulse picked up its pace.
He pulled away. “Of all the carnal temptations over the years, I’ve never wavered. Do ye know why it’s different with ye?”
“Holing up with the world’s last lass for endless weeks might have something to do with it.”
“Nah, love. Let me show ye.”
He pulled my hand from my belly. Fingertips balancing on mine, he slid them over my palm, up my forearm to the inside of my elbow. Goose bumps trailed. In sync, he guided my fingers over his palm, his arm, my caress mimicking his.
Static skated my skin, lifting the hairs on my arms. My body trembled.
“Do ye feel that?”
I swallowed, nodded, swallowed again.
He nodded too, padding a finger across my lips. I let him raise my hand and mirror the movement on him. His mouth was so pliant, inviting. His eyes hooded in sultry slits. Drunk Roark was delicious. My pussy clenched.
He pressed his palm over my heart. I followed suit. His beat under my hand, thumping in chorus with mine, surged tingles through my limbs and blood roaring in my head. My empty chest filled with…what? The sensation was fluttery, but intense. I knew that feeling.
“Evie?”
“Mm?
“Wha’ do ye feel?”
Throbbing under my palm, mere inches beneath muscle and bone. His vitality. The thing I fed so ravenously on. The thing that made me long for a future. “The song.”