Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2) (20 page)

She tilted her head back and drank. He lifted his glass to his lips, a sliver of anger curling through him. He wanted to argue with her, but what the hell did he know about it? He had no idea what it’d been like for her.

He returned his tumbler to the tabletop. “I don’t think you sound as bad as you think you sound. And I know having trouble coming up with the right words, on the spot, in a public setting, no less, does not mean you’re broken or somehow need fixing.”

“That’s it. That’s the problem, right there.” Her face grew animated. “It’s not that I can’t find the words. It’s that there’s so much I want to say and I can’t possibly say it all and-and-and the words jam and-and everything starts to pile up and-and—” She sagged back. “It’s so… frustrating.”

“You know, now that you mention it, I’ve noticed you sure have a lot to say.”

She smiled and his heart lifted.

“You know what my favorite word is?”

“It’s Luke, isn’t it?”

She shook her head, laughing.

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“Fuck.”

The force of his laughter surprised him.

“It’s the best word ever,” she said. “I never stutter when I say it.”

“Filth flows fluidly, does it?”

God, she was pretty when she laughed. He liked talking to her like this. It felt good to feel something other than bruised and weary when talking to a woman.

“Okay, I got it.” He shifted on his stool. “The next time you’re struggling to get the words out, pretend you’re talking to me and I’ve just pissed you off again. You don’t have any trouble giving me a piece of your mind.”

She brushed away his idea with a wave of her hand. “You’re easy to talk to.”

Warmth broke like the sun over the horizon in the center of his chest.

She mistook his smile. “But don’t go thinking I’ve joined the ranks of your admirers. I am not, nor will I ever be, a Luke Nolan groupie.”

A grimace pulled at his features. “I do not have groupies.”

With a giggle, she laughed and slid her empty glass across the table until it knocked into his. “You really do.”

Rum flowed as he refilled both glasses.

“Why don’t you have an accent?” At his confusion, she pressed on. “It’s just, I noticed Noah and Shea have accents and you and Jack don’t have much of one, and I was curious why.”

“We left Ireland when I was seven, and after living here for a few years, it sort of faded. Maybe because they were older when we moved, Noah and Shea never lost theirs.” He dropped the timbre of his voice and with a thick brogue said, “Of course, I can turn it back on if ye’d like.”

“Oh my, don’t do that. Whew. That made me a little light-headed.”

A chuckle shook his shoulders. They sipped their drinks in silence for a time.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” he asked. “Ireland or my accent?”

Amusement flickered in her eyes. “Ireland.”

“I don’t remember it all that much.” A wish from childhood came flooding back. “I think about going back for a visit.”

“You should.”

“I will. Someday.”

With the silence, they sipped.

“Wh-why did you leave?”

“My mom died and—”

Her soft gasp broke in. “You lost your mom when you were seven?”

“That’s right.” His voice sounded rough and he reached for the bottle. “My dad… he couldn’t take care of us, so they sent us here, to live with John.”

“Father John is your uncle, right?”

“Right. He’s my mom’s brother.” He swallowed a healthy gulp.

“H-how did she die?”

“She had cancer.”

“Luke, I’m so sorry.” Her voice soft, she looked at him with softer eyes, filled with acknowledged pain.

One orphan to another.

“Thank you.”

She slid the bottle back to her side of the table and added another splash to her glass. “Your dad… did you miss him?”

He snatched up his tumbler. “Nope.” He threw back the contents of the glass and reached for the pint.

Smart woman that she was, she understood that door was closed.

“My dad used to come up with creative ways to try to make me quit stuttering. O-one time, he made me talk with a stone under my tongue for a wh-whole month. It didn’t do any good, of course, but he was too stubborn to admit wh-when he was wrong.”

Luke stared into his glass to hide his scowl. “Sure sounds creative, all right.”

“He tried to take my name away.” Her throat worked until finally she forced out the word. “Cole. I don’t know what it was, but I couldn’t say the name without a huge struggle. So he refused to let me say it or even write it for over a year, and every day he threatened to file the paperwork to permanently change it.”

Though she kept her tone light, Luke could hear the ring of anguish in her voice.

A tiny hiccup escaped her. “Eventually he gave up and just hit—”

Luke’s head snapped up.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, as if to pull the words back.

His stomach gave a sickening wrench. “He hit you?”

She hesitated. “No. Not often. He had a temper and I… tried his patience.”

“Don’t do that.” Fury caused his hands to shake. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for his weaknesses.”

Large, dark eyes stared up at him. Her throat worked. “You’re right. That was silly of me.”

Of its own volition, his hand reached out and he traced the fine bones of her face, from her fragile cheekbones to her small chin, imagining the damage a man’s fist could yield.

“You aren’t silly.” He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, where her freckles should be, but weren’t.

She tilted her head, pressing her cheek into his palm. “Thank you for saying that.”

With the rum sloping through his bloodstream, lazy warmth wrapped around him. She slid off her barstool and came to stand between his thighs. His cock took immediate notice, even as her fragrant perfumed scent filled his senses and a pang of frustration kicked in his chest.

Warm whiskey swirls pulled him in, until her tongue darted out to lick her lips and his gaze riveted on her mouth.

“You’re so cool,” she whispered.

A soft laugh rumbled through him. “You’re drunk.”

“A little.” Her soft breath rushed over his skin. “And you have the most kissable lips.”

“Maybe you should prove it.”

Her body pressed against his and she touched his lips with hers. He held himself still while she explored his mouth with tiny tastes and tentative nibbles. A soft, slow lick.

Heat seared him.

She pulled back and gazed into his eyes for a long moment, as though searching for some clue.

He tossed up a smile, the one that charmed everybody, while his mind puzzled out the most efficient means of getting her naked. The bare bones of a plan formed, but before he could set it in motion, her expression shifted, growing serious, and her brown eyes turned all soft and slippery.

Unease stole over him.

Her voice trembled when she spoke. “You’re so beautiful.”

The smile froze on his face. Her fingers touched the side of his cheek and he only just managed to stifle a flinch.

“Not just here,” she said, and then she pressed the flat of her palm to his chest. Above his heart. “But here.”

The air sucked from his lungs. He couldn’t draw breath, and his heart started to pound. Vines wrapped around his ankles to hold him rooted to the spot, unable to run while she gazed upon him.

The real him.

It was the first time in as long as he could recall anyone bothering to look beyond his pretty face, past the mask of charm he kept in place.

Now, for the first time, someone looked. And she found him beautiful.

Her name broke over his lips.

Then her plump mouth pulled down at the corners. “Except, of course, when you’re being a jerk.”

A song ended and through the speakers, the DJ invited Noah and Mina to take to the dance floor. Emily pulled away. His hands shot out to grip her waist.

He tugged and she fell softly against him. “Don’t go.”

Her heat soothed the aches his body had carried for all time. He was drowning in her softness.

“D
ance with me.” He spoke low in her ear.

Gooseflesh chased up her arms. “I’m supposed to dance with Shea.”

Indeed, the oldest Nolan brother wove his way through the crowd toward them.

“Take my hand.”

As if of its own volition, her hand settled inside his. The warmth of his skin sloped through her as he led her toward the dance area.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

Her pulse thundered in her ears and she fixed her gaze on his chest, sneaking the occasional peek at the strong column of his neck.

Her body hummed with awareness of him.

“There it is.” His lips brushed her earlobe.

She turned her head. “What?”

He executed a small move to turn her toward the dance floor. “Shea and his wife are dancing.”

Emily spotted Luke’s brother a few couples away with Isobel wrapped in his arms. “They’re married?”

“They’ve got it into their heads that they don’t want to be together anymore.” The flat of Luke’s palm smoothed up her back.

Sensation ricocheted through her and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“They separated last year, yet they’re madly in love with each other.” His hand found the curve of her hip. “They’re driving everyone crazy.”

It was too much, his heady scent and heated touch. His electric, lingering gaze. She started to tremble. From beneath her eyelashes, she snuck a glance at his face.

Maybe it was the rum, but his beauty hurt to look at. His square jaw and pink lips. His eyes that shone like jewels against his tanned skin.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

At the bite in his tone, she ducked her chin. “S-sorry.”

His grip on her hip tightened. “Because if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from doing something about it.”

She bit down on her lower lip to hide the hitch in her breathing.

“I’ll find us a nice, quiet place, and do all the things I’ve been wanting to do to you for the past two months now.”

Her tongue slipped out to lick her dry lips. “Wh-what things?”

His fingertips danced over the bare skin of her shoulder. “I’ll touch you.” He dipped his head and his lips followed the path his fingertips had blazed. “Taste you.”

She shivered.

His mouth nuzzled her ear. “Tease you until you can’t endure anymore. And then….”

“Wh-wh-what? And then wh-what?”

“And then, I’m going to fuck you.”

The swift, fierce shock of arousal zinged through her.

“Is that what you want, Emily?” With an easy nudge, he entwined his fingers with hers. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

More than she wanted her next breath, except, “I thought… you said it w-was a mistake. That I w-was a mistake.”

On a curse, his large hand clamped around hers. He hauled her away from the dance floor and hustled her through the ballroom doors. In the hall, she stumbled along behind him until he pulled her with him into the library and swept shut the door, plunging them into darkness.

The lock turned over, followed by the muffled sound of his footsteps on the Persian rug. A thump, another curse, and dim light from a lamp threw a warm glow over the room.

“You think I rejected you.” Emotion rode the top of his voice.

“You called m-me a mistake.” Hadn’t he?

“No, not you.” He detached from the shadows. “It’s me. I… I can’t give you what you want.”

“You don’t know wh-what I want. You never asked m-me.”

His taut features softened. “What do you want, Emily?”

“You.” She rushed forward with the words, close enough to feel the warmth from his body. “I want you.”

“I can’t do long-term. Not right now.” His voice was rough, as though he was being pulled apart. “Maybe never.”

“I don’t want y-your promises. Or your heart.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She wanted whatever would make her feel less alone.

His thumb dragged across her bottom lip with a ruthless stroke, rubbing lipstick from her mouth.

She jerked her head back. “Stop, you’ll mess it up.”

“Damn straight, I will.”

She backed away. “I get it. You don’t like it.”

“You’re right, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.” Heat from his body invaded hers when he came to stand behind her. “You look hot as hell and I’m out of my mind with wanting you.”

Her heart slammed against her breastbone. “I can’t tell if y-you’re teasing me.”