My gaze travels back up to her face. Dark brown eyes lined with black look back at me with a sinful gleam. Plump, red-painted lips curl sensually until she finally stops right in front of me. Her breasts brush across my chest, and the scent of her perfume surrounds me. It’s not cloying or irritating. It’s a fragrance that reminds me of sex. Just a bit musky.

  The music speeds up, and she starts to move, swinging her hips from side to side. Her hands glide up her stomach, teasingly over her breasts, and then behind her neck where she pulls up her long hair before it cascades back down to curl around the soft mounds of her chest. I swallow hard.

  She turns her back to me and presses herself tightly to my front. Her hips swivel, and her ass grinds against my cock. I grip her curves and move in time to the sexy music playing in the background. Her back arches, and she locks her hands behind my neck, which only pushes her harder into the cradle of my thighs.

  I nuzzle her neck, breathing in the scent that reminds me of marathon sessions of hot, dirty sex. She moans into my ear. Everything around me disappears as my focus zeroes in on this lush woman writhing in my arms. She pivots so we’re front to front. Her hands wander over my body, ,and mine drops to her ass cheeks, squeezing them, molding them.

  Vaguely, I become aware that the music has stopped. A tingle begins at the back of my neck. I slow the grind of my hips and raise my head from where I’d buried it in the crease between the dancer’s neck and shoulder. I blink at the bright lights. Weren’t they dimmed a few minutes ago?

  My brain is slow to react. It’s unnaturally quiet. Like the woman in my arms and I are the only ones left in the room. I release my hold on her and turn around.

  Jack and Nathan are both staring at the table, and their fingers seem to be tapping a nervous beat against their glass. The men seated nearby have their eyes downcast as well and are staring anywhere but at me and the half-naked woman at my side.

  I take in the rest of the room, and my gaze comes to an abrupt halt. Near the bar are two people who shouldn’t be here. Caitlín’s expression is full of disgust. I quickly disregard her, because my entire focus is on Anya, who’s clutching her bag tightly at her waist. At first glance, it appears as if she’s staring at me. Except she’s not. Her gaze is locked on the brunette standing beside me.

  Chapter 14

  Anya

  * * *

  Red-hot embarrassment washes over me. More from the pitying glances being thrown my way than by Paddy nearly dry humping a half-naked woman in the middle of a crowded room. Beside me, Caitlín curses. In Irish, maybe? At least, I assume it’s a swear word since I don’t understand it. Plus, it’s her favorite language to curse in. That’s what you’re thinking about right now?

  Better than thinking about the fact that my fiancé is grinding against a woman, and everyone keeps glancing at me like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. A sentiment I’m fully on board with. The music comes to an abrupt halt. What seems like every light in the place is turned up, and I blink against the brightness. The couple in the center keeps moving, their bodies sensually gliding over each others.

  They slow, though, and Paddy lifts his head as though he can sense a difference in the room. He releases the woman in his arms and turns toward his brothers. I’m not ready to meet his gaze. Instead, my attention is on the mostly naked brunette. A taunting voice whispers in my ear. What if he paws at you like that after you’re married? He’ll be your husband. He can do anything to you. There’s no one to stop him from taking what he wants.

  My head goes woozy, and I stumble backwards. I can’t breathe. It’s like a vise is squeezing my chest.

  Run.

  I take off the way we came, jerking the door open and nearly ripping it off its hinges as I try to make my escape. Several voices call out my name, but I ignore them all. I have to get away. My breathing is labored as I race down the street. Black spots float in my vision, but desperation propels me.

  “Anya, stop,” the male voice yells out behind me, far too closely.

  Tears blur everything. I can’t go any farther, which only increases the tightness in my chest. He’ll catch me if I quit, though.

  “Damn it, Anya, will you stop?”

  A hand grips my arm. No, not again. I turn, and my fists pound on the chest of the man holding me. Animalistic screams rip from my throat. Those men won’t hurt me again. He won’t hurt me again. Strong arms wrap around me, pinning mine to my sides. I thrash and kick. My cries of anguish fill the night sky.

  “Quit fighting. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.” The man’s words rumble through me, making little sense. He doesn’t loosen his grip. Only gentles his tone. “It’s all right. It’s just me. Paddy.”

  My movements slow as his words penetrate. Paddy? My slow brain starts firing. Oh, god, Paddy. The pub. The woman. Harsh, ragged gasps for air nearly drag into my lungs. They begin to slow. He’s got me wrapped so tightly, I can’t take a complete breath.

  “Please, let me go.” It comes through a dry, scratchy throat, as though being scraped across rocks.

  Paddy slowly releases me and takes a small step back. I’m afraid if he held on to me any longer, I’d fracture into a thousand pieces. I cradle my rigid form with one arm and refuse to look at him. With my free hand, I wipe the wetness from my face. No doubt, I’m a snotty, gross mess. Mortification heats my chest, rising up my neck and across my cheeks. The warm air only makes me hotter. We aren’t even married yet, and Paddy’s already witnessed my crazy.

  “I’m sorry you saw me with her,” he says softly. “You have every right to be angry.”

  Is that what he thinks? That I’m angry? I shake my head. “I don’t care that you were doing…whatever you were doing with her.”

  Instant regret fills me. I should have let him think that. Then I don’t have to explain.

  Paddy draws back a fraction. “You don’t?”

  “I told you,” I say, finally meeting his gaze, ”do what you want with whomever you want. When are you going to believe that I do…not…care?” Are you sure about that? I ignore the stupid voice.

  Confusion crosses his face. “If you don’t care, then what was that all about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Paddy’s eyes widen. “Nothing? You tear out of the pub like your ass is on fire, and whale on me like you want to kill me, for nothing?”

  I stiffen. “Fine. How about, it’s nothing I want to talk about, then?”

  He continues staring at me incredulously. “Are you out of your fecking mind?”

  I flinch at his raised voice. Paddy paces in short strides in front of me, running his hands through his hair while he mumbles to himself. I stand there, stiff as a board. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all,” he finally says, coming to a stop in front of me.

  My stomach drops. “What? We’re getting married…tomorrow.”

  “And I’m saying,”—Paddy pauses and swallows—“that it might be better if we didn’t.”

  “Because of what happened just now? Are you kidding me?” I snap, my emotions going haywire. “We bought a house, and now you’re calling off the wedding because I got…weird.” I don’t have another word for my reaction.

  “That wasn’t weird, Anya. That was kill-me-in-my-sleep behavior.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Padraig. I’m not going to kill you in your sleep. I had a moment. Now the moment’s gone.”

  “You think I’m being dramatic?” He gapes.

  My eyes widen, and I nod rapidly for emphasis.

  Paddy tips his head back. “She thinks I’m being dramatic,” he says as though speaking to some deity in the sky. He drops his chin to stare at me.

  I return his gaze. Why am I so determined to go through with this? His eyes scan my face. Neither of us moves. We just keep taking the other in. Can he see the plea behind my stare? I can’t read his expression. A crackle of awareness sparks in my belly. How have I never noticed how good-looking he is? Or maybe I have, and I’ve merely ignored it. Keep ignoring it.

  Finally, Paddy shakes his head and turns, heading back in the direction of the pub. “I’m going to regret this, but I’ll see you at three tomorrow.” His words are nearly swallowed up by the pitch-black night sky, but they still linger there when Caitlín approaches moments later.

  “I hope you kicked his ass to the curb.”

  “No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t understand you. At all,” she says with blatant confusion. “If I caught my fiancé with some naked chick, I’d make him regret ever touching her. Right after I clawed her eyes out.”

  “She wasn’t naked,” I point out. “And why does no one seem to believe me when I said I’m fine with Paddy living his life the way he’s always lived it?”

  Caitlín has the look she doesn’t frequently wear, but it’s recognizable. It’s the one where she has something to say but is hesitant to. Which almost never happens. I cross my arms.

  “Spit it out,” I tell her.

  “I saw your expression,” she finally says after another beat of silence.

  “My what?” Confusion colors my tone.

  “When we walked in the door and you first saw Paddy with that woman,” Caitlín clarifies. “Anya, hurt was written all over your face. It only lasted for a second, but it was there.”

  I stare at her. She can’t be right. I vividly remember everything about stepping inside. I’d been excited to finally see their family’s pub. Caitlín had gone on and on about how good the food was. She also praised a woman named Sadie, who apparently had been working there since before Caitlín had even been born.

  We walked in, and the few, small groups of men had all been staring in the same direction. My gaze followed their visual path to find Paddy and that woman. For a split second, a single emotion hit me, but I quickly chased it away. I didn’t care. I didn’t.

  “It was just surprise,” I prevaricate. “You didn’t tell me your brothers were throwing Paddy a bachelor party.”

  “Because I didn’t know. And believe me, I’m annoyed that I didn’t know.” Caitlín releases a small huff. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you’re full of shit.”

  She’s my best friend. The one person I tell everything to. Why can’t I admit that, maybe, I’d been the tiniest bit hurt by seeing Paddy with that woman? “It doesn’t mean anything,” I finally say. “It was simply a knee-jerk reaction, okay?”

  Caitlín steps close, throws her arm over my shoulder, and leans her head against mine. “I’m worried about you. I feel like you’re letting that stubborn pride of yours make all the decisions instead of your rational and logical brain. Because that reaction was more than simple.”

  “I didn’t run away because I was hurt,” I confess.

  She releases me. “Then why?”

  I glance around, making sure we’re alone. “It wasn’t a memory or anything. But seeing Paddy with that woman triggered some bad shit in my head.” Ever since Caitlín and I became friends, I’ve picked up her habit of cursing. It’s surprisingly freeing.

  “Like, before bad shit?”

  I nod. A shiver skates across the back of my neck. I wrap my arms around my waist to ward off the chill. It doesn’t help. It’s been a little while since I’ve thought of before.

  Caitlín pulls me in for a giant hug. I tug my trapped arms out from between us and return it. She always knows when I need one. The best part about it is that she never offers any useless words about how everything will be all right. Or tries to get me to forget about what happened. She just hugs me tight so I don’t feel so afraid and alone.

  Finally, we release each other. Her expression is soft. “So, I’m not getting out of my bridesmaid’s duties then?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “If nothing else, I’m really glad that tomorrow we’ll become sisters,” she says.

  “There’s no one else I’d rather have.”

  Caitlín loops her hand around my upper arm. “Where to? Home or back to the pub?”

  A part of me wants to show everyone back at Donnelly’s that I’m fine, but the more fragile part of me just wants to curl up in my bed. I’m not sure I’m strong enough at the moment to put on a brave face. I’m going to need it all for tomorrow.

  “Let’s go home, please.”

  Chapter 15

  Paddy

  * * *

  My head is killing me, and my mouth tastes like a sewer. Which seems to be a fitting way to start my wedding day. Feck. I can’t believe I’m still going through with this after last night. I’d sobered up briefly during the insane confrontation with Anya. I roll over with a groan and stare up at my bedroom ceiling.

  Back at the pub, I’d waited at least fifteen minutes before finally giving up any ideas that she was going to return. Thank god the stripper had been gone. In fact, any lingering indicators that a bachelor party was being held here were also absent. Most of the few remaining soldiers had disappeared while I’d been with Anya. Pretty much the only people still seated were Jack and Nathan, as well as the O’Connell brothers.

  I’d circled behind the bar, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, poured myself a healthy dose, and tossed it back. After that, I have only a vague recollection of my brothers carrying me out to the car. Then, everything’s blank.

  Someone pounds on my door. Before I can tell the person to feck off, it bursts open.

  “Rise and shine, lover boy,” Jack calls out in a sing-song voice that slams into my pounding head. “Time to get this party started.”

  I curse and yank the pillow from beneath me to cover my face. “Go feck yourself,” I mumble into it, the words lost in the down stuffing. Maybe I’m acting like a kid, but at the moment, I don’t really care.

  Jack tugs it away and smiles down at me like a lunatic. “It’s almost noon. You should probably shower and wash away the smell of your lady friend before you walk down the aisle. Plus, the scent of whiskey is still seeping from your pores.”

  “Don’t remind me. There’s not enough aspirin to fix this headache,” I whine.

  “Well, try. I put some on your nightstand last night, along with water. And a shot of whiskey for good measure.” He turns and heads for the door. “Your tux arrived early this morning, as well. I put it over there.”

  I manage to lift myself a fraction. Sure enough, a black garment bag is hanging from the bathroom door. My head hits the mattress, and I flinch at the pain. “Thanks.”

  “Hurry up. Mother wants us over at the house before one. She doesn’t want to risk you and Anya running into each other before the ceremony. Bad luck or whatever.” Jack exits, and the room is silent.

  I grab the pills off the nightstand and wash them down with the whiskey he left. Finally, I drag myself into the bathroom, stepping over the pile of clothes either he or Nathan relieved me of before putting me to bed last night.

  My shower is hot and quick. No sense dragging things out. Except, my movements slow as I button the stiffly pressed white shirt. I stare at my reflection. Eyes that too closely resemble my grand-da’s glare back at me. Faded bruises still color my face, especially along my cheekbone, with shades of green and yellow. The one side of it still aches from Pierce’s fist. As do my ribs.

  A wild flutter starts in my chest. I rest my palms on the countertop and breathe through it. In only a few short hours, the one thing I swore I’d never do is going to happen. I’m tying myself to one woman for the rest of my life. To Anya.

  The panicked sensation grows. I rub the spot where I can feel the pinch, hoping to massage it away, but it remains. My eyes close, and I focus on breathing, pushing away any thoughts of the future. Instead, words from the past manage to sneak past my defenses.

  “You’re worthless, Padraig. Stupid.” Grand-da sneers from his looming position over me. “I don’t know why I don’t have someone smother you in your sleep. You’ll never amount to anything.”

  His threat makes me tremble, but I do what I always do when faced with his rage. Something I learned at far too young an age.

  “Idiot,” he growls, fisting his hands at his sides. “You and that fucking smile.”

  Of course, I’m smiling. It’s my shield. Plus, I know it makes him angry. I’d rather smile than let him know I’m afraid. Fear gives him power. My seeming lack of it infuriates him. His fists don’t make a difference. I still grin through the blood and pain. Instead, he uses words. Each one whittles away at me, slowly eating at my self-worth. We both know it’s working, even if I refuse to acknowledge it.

  “No woman will want you when you get older, you know?” Grand-da says casually as he turns and settles behind his massive oak desk. “Not when they find out. They won’t want your stupidity passed on to your children.”

  I shouldn’t care what he says. I’m only nine. I don’t even like girls. Not really. But his prediction makes my stomach hurt. Is he right? Am I really stupid? Can I give it to someone else? I wish I could ask Mother, but I’m afraid. She’ll yell at Grand-da, and then he’ll be mad. I don’t want him to hurt her like he does everyone else.

  Trying to prove I don’t care, I shrug. “I don’t plan on ever getting married or having kids, so it doesn’t matter.”

  He continues staring at me with a calculating expression. “You say that now, but we’ll see.”

  I shake my head, cursing the old bastard. Maybe even cursing Anya, which isn’t fair. I’m the one who agreed to go along with this. I should be cursing myself. A shout and another pounding at my door gets me moving. I shove my shirttails inside my dress pants, button them, and then slide into the jacket. Feck the tie. Mother can figure it out if she wants me to wear it bad enough.

  With a final glance at myself, I head out the door. Jack and Nathan, both in their tuxes, stand at the bottom of the steps. Nathan whistles.