by Sienna Blake
I feel his nose press lightly into my hair and I hear him inhale. He’s smelling me, drawing me in. At the same time, I breathe him in through the scent of him all around me from his jacket. This feels stunningly intimate. More intimate than being naked.
His fingers trail up my arms and they burn, even through the thickness of the leather. His hands run up my shoulders then trail towards the skin at the base of my neck. I suck in my next breath. I’m already a hot, dirty mess inside, aching to suck those fingers up into my mouth.
His fingers curl into the collar of his jacket and continue to trace my skin. In one liquid movement he pulls the jacket off my shoulders. I shiver. He’s going to strip me right outside my door. And I’m going to let him. Suddenly there’s no question whether or not I’ll let him inside. He has already found his way in.
His fingers brush aside my hair and drape it down over one shoulder leaving the other side of my neck and shoulder exposed. He grips the front of my throat with his large hand. The choke is firm but gentle and I can feel my pulse beating against his palm.
His lips find the back of my neck. First in a soft teasing kiss which I feel as tingles in the tips of my fingers. Then his lips part and I feel his wet tongue press against my skin as his hand tightens around my neck. I feel this kiss deep in my aching core. My back arches and my ass presses into his hips where I feel his hardness through his jeans. A noise like a pleading groan slips out from my mouth.
He pulls his lips off me and moves my hair so it falls down my back.
“Be good, kitten. I’ll be in touch.” He releases me and walks to the stairs.
I’m so stunned that all I can do for about two seconds is gape. I feel the itchy fear clinging to me again like static. It had disappeared completely just by being near him. I stare wide-eyed at this man who’s disappearing down my stairs. No one has been able to take away my emptiness like this. No one.
I catch one last look from him before he disappears down the stairwell. He can’t leave. He can’t. I let go of my key still in the door. I drop my heels and run down the stairs after him.
The concrete stairs are cold and gritty under my feet, but I barely notice. I catch up to him at the ground floor just as he’s stepping outside, door closing behind him. I rush out after him. “Wait? You’re just leaving me here?”
“Consider this rule number one,” he calls over his shoulder.
The first rule. This causes an instinctive flare of defiance in me. I almost retort back, but as I watch him straddle that bike with his thick powerful legs I imagine how he would use those legs to drive into me and I forget to breathe.
When he looks back at me I remember myself. I cross my arms and try to pin him with a glare. He merely looks amused, infuriating me even more. I fantasize about slapping him. The fantasy turns as he grabs my wrist and pulls me against him. I grab his hair, his locks feeling like silk between my fingers, and kiss the hell out of that incredible mouth until his smirk is reduced to a quiver between my lips.
I hear the growl of the bike as it comes to life, snapping me out of this fantasy. He’s sitting on his bike staring at me with a knowing look as if he just read my mind. I flush from my cheeks to between my thighs.
“Wait,” I manage to call out before he pulls away. “What’s rule number one?”
“Patience.” As he rides away I feel the rumble of his engine all the way through my body.
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Excerpt of Three Irish Brothers
Savannah
Fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck.
I’m fine, just a slight crick in my neck. But the car is not. It won’t start and the front bonnet is crumpled to hell and this stupid rain won’t let up.
There’s no reception on my phone.
I can’t call a tow.
I can’t call my new boss, who is expecting me.
I can’t call anyone.
I am so fucked.
I sit in the driver’s seat of my now-wrecked car, gripping my steering wheel. What the hell do I do now?
I let out a long scream. It echoes inside the car, my answer to the constant drumming of the rain on the top.
I feel slightly better.
But I’m still fucked.
Okay, Savannah, think.
I only have snacks in my bag that I purchased from a gas station. Tayto crisps and Maltesers aren’t going to last me the day.
I could walk to find help. I did buy those totally cute knit Skechers at the airport. Too bad they’re not waterproof. Nor did I think to buy any waterproof rain jackets.
Fuck. Me.
I’d be drenched in ten seconds flat. Then I’ll catch pneumonia and die alone on the side of a too-skinny road in the middle of nowhere Ireland where no one knows I am. A fitting end to this shitty, shitty day.
I spot a flash of something farther up the road.
It’s a truck driving towards me. A truck, which means people, which means help!
I don’t think twice. I burst out of the car and run into the road waving my hands at them, signaling them to stop. The rain has faded to a drizzle but I can still feel it frosting the hairs on my skin and making my clothes damp.
The truck slams on its brakes and halts a few meters away from me.
The driver’s side door opens and a large man jumps out. “What the fuck?”
That. Accent.
Holy hell.
Deep yet melodic, it travels through my body like a shiver.
He strides towards me in the rain. He’s tall, around six two, I’m guessing. And looks unlike any man I’ve ever seen. He wears long rough trousers made of thick material and a rough-spun button-up shirt, clean but clearly has seen better days. The rain is already causing it to fit across his wide chest and thick torso, straining around his biceps.
Oh wow. This man didn’t get his body from a well-designed weight-lifting program at the gym. He got it working the land and getting dirty.
I could get real dirty with him.
I shove aside that thought.
Two other doors of the truck open and…oh my fucking God, another two of them get out.
Holy crap.
There’s three of them.
Three broad-shouldered, ruggedly handsome, dark-haired men.
Maybe I hit my head in the crash and I’m seeing triple.
Triple handsome. Triple bodies like gods. Triple hot as hell. Surely, this can’t be real. They can’t be real.
As they stride towards me like something out of an action movie, I feel myself growing faint. I’ve never swooned before. I thought that kind of thing only happened to women in Victorian novels with too-tight corsets. But the sight of them is making me woozy. And hot. It’s getting very fucking hot inside my body. I’m way too young for this to be the onset of menopause.
The three of them come to stand before me in a wall of rugged muscled man, all with thick brows over deep, dark eyes, strong, stubbled jaws and kissable lips. They must be brothers. For a second I think they’re triplets. But then I notice the subtle differences between them.
The tallest one has the strongest jaw under a five o’clock shadow and the deepest set eyes. He’s the one who climbed out of the truck first. The one who yelled at me with that deep accented voice.
The second one, the one standing in the middle of the trio, is about an inch shorter at around six feet one. He’s the only one who has a smile on his face, a dimple marking his left cheek. He’s the most tanned of the three and appears the friendliest.
The shortest one, still a good six feet tall, has the broadest shoulders, the widest torso. He has a faint scar that mars his top lip and disappears under his beard, the thickest of the three. It doesn’t detract from his attractiveness, quite the opposite. It makes him look mysterious. Sexy. Almost dangerous.
“Are ye feckin’ mad, woman?” the first man says. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, jumping out in front of my truck? Ye could have been killed.”
He’s scow
ling at me as if I’ve wronged him personally. I frown. I gave him plenty of time to see me. It’s not like I jumped out in front of his truck. What the hell is his problem?
“Ah, don’t be such a sourpuss, Killian,” the middle one says. His voice isn’t as deep as Killian’s, but it’s more playful, more lyrical. I imagine he’d have an incredible singing voice. “The lass needs us.”
The innuendo in his tone is not lost on me, and my stomach erupts into flutters.
“I need a tow and a mechanic,” I say, trying to ignore the strange feelings coursing around my body. “But I’ll take a lift to the nearest phone instead. Mine won’t get reception out here.”
“You’re American,” the middle one says. His smile broadens into a lopsided grin. He looks on the border of laughing at any moment.
“Don’t hold that against me.”
The middle one laughs. He mumbles something under his breath. It might have been my imagination, but I swear I heard, “I’d rather hold you against me.”
I think I’d rather that, too.
“I’m Fionn,” he says out loud and holds out his hand.
“Savannah.” I take his hand, a shot of electricity going up my arm at the contact. He must have felt it, too, because his brows furrow.
I let out a shaky breath. “I’ve never heard the name Fionn before.”
“A truly Irish name. Named after a legendary Irish hero. These are my brothers, Killian and Aiden.” He thumbs over his shoulder.
So they are brothers.
“But I’m the only one you really need to know.” Fionn grins and my heart flips.
Careful, my inner voice warns me. This one is definitely a heartbreaker. I bet that grin has broken more than its fair share of hearts in this county and the next.
The third brother, Aiden, still hasn’t said anything. But he has been staring at me this whole time. I smile at him and try for a tiny wave. He doesn’t smile back.
“We can give her a lift to town, can’t we, Killian?” Fionn calls back over his shoulder, his eyes still on me.
Killian makes a grunting noise, turns on his heel and strides back to the truck. I can’t help but notice his strong thighs in those jeans or the way he just cuts up the ground with his long legs.
“That means yes in grumpy-speak,” Fionn says with a wink. “Come on.”
Savannah
Killian drives. I sit in the back with Aiden while Fionn sits in the passenger seat, twisted around to face me as we talk. He asks all the usual questions about me: where I’m from, why I’m here in Ireland, how long I’m here and am I single.
I say I’m a tourist on an extended stay, yes, I am a single and avoid all mention of the mess I left behind in New York.
Fionn tells me about the three of them. They’re brothers aged from twenty-seven to twenty-nine, Aiden being the youngest, Killian being the eldest, no surprises there. Irish twins, he jokes, before explaining that’s what they call children born only a year apart. They live and work on a cattle farm in the area. And what a coincidence, they’re all single, too.
I should be scared that I’m alone in a car with three strangers, but I’m not. I’m a New Yorker. I’ve met enough assholes and bad people to know when I’m near one. These men don’t make me feel intimidated or afraid.
In fact, the opposite. In the dry, warm truck, I feel safe. Protected. If I’m honest, very turned on at my proximity to such gorgeous, muscular men. I’m trying not to stare at the smooth lightly tanned skin of their strong forearms, biceps bulging from their shirts or their matching thick lips.
Killian keeps glaring at me through the rearview mirror. He only talks to interject an occasional comment about ignorant drivers or stupid Americans.
I’d be offended if I didn’t sense the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The way this weight crushes him down, dampening his spirit, making him seem much older than his twenty-nine years. Killian has bigger problems than I can know, I imagine. Every time he makes a rude comment I just feel more and more sorry for him. The need to pull him into my arms grows.
Aiden is still just watching me. I can’t read the expression on his face. It’s almost blank. But I can see glimmers of feeling in his eyes. There’s a lot more to this young man than meets the eye. A lot more going on inside than appears on the surface. He makes me strangely curious. He makes me want to peel back his layers and see what’s going on underneath.
“You haven’t told me anything about yourself, Aiden,” I say when I can’t stand it anymore.
“And he won’t,” Fionn says. “He won’t speak.”
“He won’t speak to me? Because I’m a stranger?”
“No, he just won’t speak.”
“You mean he can’t speak?” The mysterious brother was mute?
“Fionn,” Killian says in a low warning.
“He can,” says Fionn, ignoring his brother. “He just won’t.” I don’t miss the slight bitterness in Fionn’s voice. And by the flash of sadness in Aiden’s eye, neither did he.
I turn to Aiden, hoping that my face shows only curiosity and concern. “Why won’t you talk?”
Aiden blinks at me, a sign that he definitely heard me. For a second he looks almost surprised. He’s surprised that I addressed him and not his brothers?
Fionn snorts. “He’s not going to answer you. The doctors say that there’s nothing wrong with his voice. He just hasn’t spoken since—”
“That’s enough,” Killian barks out, a hardness to his tone brooking no argument.
Fionn snaps his mouth shut and sinks back into his seat, facing the front for the first time this whole drive.
Something happened to Aiden. And it’s affected all three of them.
My heart squeezes.
I catch Killian’s dark eyes in the rearview mirror and see the wariness in them. The warning to stay away. Killian would do anything to protect his brothers, this much is clear.
The intensity in his eyes is enough to make me pin my mouth shut even though I’m desperate to know. I push my selfish curiosity aside.
I turn to Aiden and try sign language. “Do you sign?”
Aiden sits up in his seat, brightening up. Light shining in his eyes for the first time since I met him. It transforms his face, animates it, makes him seem all the more beautiful, and I’m almost left breathless.
His hands are large and strong, calluses and cuts marring the otherwise smooth skin, but they move with the gracefulness of a musician. For a moment I get a flash of those fingers playing across my body and my breath hitches.
“You sign?” he asks.
“Yes. I…” I pause, wondering how much of myself to give away. “I have a younger sister who was deaf.” I flinch. “Had, I mean.”
His smile falters when he hears the word had. But he doesn’t ask me about her.
Thank God. Because even now it hurts me to think about her. Like a knife ripping into me, the pain as sharp as the day she was first torn away.
“Do your brothers sign too?” I ask, wondering how much of our conversation is being “overheard.” I can sense Fionn watching me and I know Killian keeps glancing at me through the rearview mirror, but I ignore them both.
“They started to learn,” Aiden signs. “Well, at least, Fionn did. He’s so smart. But he doesn’t apply himself to anything.” Aiden’s lip twerks up. “Well, except maybe to chasing women.”
I let out a soft giggle. Aiden rewards me with a shy smile.
“What did he say?” Fionn demands, but I’m too busy watching Aiden’s hands to reply.
“And Killian,” he continues, “he loves me, but he’s too busy for such trivial things. He has…a lot on his plate.”
“Well, you can sign with me, then. I’ll be living around this area for a while.” If I make it alive to this farm I’m supposed to be staying at.
Aiden smiles wide and a dimple pokes out on his left cheek, making him look so boyish. “I’d like that. I don’t…have many friends.” His smile
changes, falters, a deep sadness showing beneath the surface. I’m reminded of the Mona Lisa painting with the sorrow behind her smile.
What happened to you, Aiden? I ask with my eyes but don’t dare to sign.
You don’t want to know, he seems to reply with his.
Savannah
Killian pulls up in front of a grocery store in town. The town is cute and so quaint, with gorgeous little houses set among tidy gardens bursting with flowers. It looks nothing like the dirty, smelly, concrete jungle I fled from.
The four of us climb out of the truck and congregate on the wide footpath.
The drizzle has stopped entirely and there’s actual sun peeking out from behind the clouds, now fluffy and white. The weather here is as changeable as hell, I’m beginning to realize. Still, I begin to feel like everything just might turn out okay.
“Go on in, Aiden,” Killian says in a soft voice to Aiden, patting him on the shoulder and slipping him folded notes with the other hand. “We’ll wait here. You know what to get.”
The affection Killian has in his tone for his younger brother warms my heart. And I know he’s sending Aiden in there on his own as a sign of trust in him.
Hmm. Perhaps the grumpy bastard isn’t as bad as he seems.
Aiden smiles up at Killian, respect and love clear on his face before he nods and disappears into the shop. Killian catches my eye and scowls. I suspect he’s going to tell me to fuck off now.
“Fionn,” he barks. “Ye better go see Cormac and tell him where to find her car to get it towed.”
Does he think I’m fucking incompetent? “Excuse me, but I think I can organize getting my car fixed myself. You’ve done enough to help, thanks.” My voice is dripping with snark.
Killian snorts as he eyes me up and down. “No offense, girl, but if you ask him to tow and fix yer car for ye, he’ll see ye comin’ a mile away and take ye for a ride. Let Fionn do it.”
Killian is so demanding. So bossy. So damn infuriating. I want to kiss the shit out of him. Slap! I mean, slap the shit out of him.