Their eyes met for a second, another conversation passing between them with no more words spoken. With an audible swallow, Patrick nodded, then grabbed my hand roughly and pulled me with him around his father and out of the house.
“Was that your dad?” I asked breathlessly, practically jogging beside him down the sidewalk. “It’s your birthday?”
“I don’t have time for dis,” he replied tersely, “Do ye have yer key?”
I nodded silently, duly chastised. He was sweating, and I knew it wasn’t from our hurried walk to my house. I was missing something; there was a reason Patrick was so frantic to get me home.
I turned and unlocked my front door, and then he was suddenly in front of me and racing through the house while I stood stupidly in the doorway.
“Yer good. Lock de door and don’t leave de house until I come back for ye,” he told me with a quick kiss to my forehead. He started down the steps before turning to face me. “And close yer fuckin’ window!” Then he was gone.
I’d been so eager to get home when I’d woken up, but suddenly I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I locked the door behind him and stood in the middle of the living room, looking around as if I’d never seen any of the contents before. I felt like I should take a shower or something, but I couldn’t make myself move away from the front door.
What if he came back? What if he needed me? What if Peg needed me and I couldn’t hear the door? The questions were asinine. I knew Patrick was fully capable of taking care of things on his own, but that didn’t seem to slow my racing heart.
I wasn’t sure what I’d witnessed at Peg’s, but I knew it was bad. Peg hadn’t seen her husband in years, and she’d told me that she preferred it that way. I’d gathered from small comments she’d made that the life he lived wasn’t one she wanted to share.
So why was he there?
My mind wandered back to the look on Patrick’s face when Robbie walked through the door, and all of a sudden I was reminded of the way he’d looked at the man he’d found me with the day before. I shuffled to the side and dropped inelegantly to the couch, raising my hand to my mouth as I thought of the many emotions I’d seen on Patrick’s face in such a short amount of time.
Holy God, how had this become my life? My memory flashed from waking up to Patrick yelling at me, his bare chest, the way he’d teased me on our way to Peg’s, the man who’d shown up the day before on some sordid errand for my parents, Patrick stepping into my house like some sort of avenging angel and making the guy leave… and finally the way he’d lifted my fingers to his mouth and slid them inside.
My stomach clenched at the memory.
Chapter 9
Amy
I’d long ago showered and was sitting on the couch reading when I finally heard a knock on the front door. It had to be close to three in the afternoon already, my parents had called to say they wouldn’t be home for dinner¸ and I’d been pacing the house like a caged animal for hours. Part of me was infuriated that Patrick and Peg had kicked me out and ordered me to stay home, but another part—a small voice in the back of my head—was telling me that I needed to stay far away from the Gallaghers. Something was going on with them that was way bigger than the odd sort of friendship we’d formed, and I had enough of my own problems to deal with.
I hurried to the door and slid the lock back, but before I do anything else, it was being pushed open from the other side and there was Patrick. His t-shirt was stretched to hell at the neck, and his arms were crossed at his chest, causing the muscles to bulge. He looked… messy, unkempt.
When my eyes finally met his, I swallowed harshly. He was angry. Really angry, and I had no idea why. But before I could say a word, his hands were wrapped around my waist and he was pushing me roughly into the house. He kicked the door closed behind him right before my back slammed against the wall.
“What de fuck are ye doin’ answerin’ de door before ye know who’s out dere?” he scolded before reaching up to grasp my jaw. “I coulda been anyone! Bad shite happens when ye aren’t fuckin’ careful Amy! Yer not livin’ in America anymore. Yer in Ireland, yeah? Dere ain’t no safe place in Ireland.”
His voice quieted to a whisper on the last words, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain. I knew things in Ireland were bad and getting worse. I saw things on the news and in the papers all the time… but it hadn’t really touched my life. I was an American teenage girl who rarely left the house, so it didn’t really have anything to do with me. What the hell was going on? My throat grew tight as I watched him try to pull himself together, and without conscious thought, I reached up to cup my palm over his cheek.
His eyes opened and his mouth hit mine just seconds later, my breath hitching as his tongue licked into my surprised mouth. He tasted like peppermint candy and his breath was hot against the lower half of my face as he pulled back slightly and bit my lower lip.
“Touch me.” He groaned frantically, leaning his forehead against mine as he let go of my body so he could pull my hand off his face and under the neck of his t-shirt.
I wasn’t sure what I should be doing, but the aggression in his kiss had flipped some sort of switch in my brain, because without any conscious thought, I’d fisted one of my hands in his hair while the other wrapped around his back and dug in. His hands swept up and down my sides, eventually running down my ass and squeezing it gently as we kissed. I wasn’t sure whether I should be embarrassed at where his hands were or climb him like a monkey, so I picked somewhere in between and slipped my hand under his shirt and scratched my nails up his back.
As Patrick moaned against my mouth and pressed his hips against mine, we heard the front door open once again and the sound of someone clearing their throat. I ripped my face away to glance toward the intruder and my face grew hot.
“Trick,” Kevie called as Patrick dropped his forehead to my shoulder and relaxed his hands against me, sliding them to the top of my jeans.
“Get de fuck outta here,” he mumbled toward my chest, causing my nipples to bead. Great, now my nipples were poking through my shirt, and right in front of a priest, no less.
I shoved Patrick away a step, and he finally raised his head. He’d cooled down in the few seconds since we’d heard Kevie’s voice, and there was no trace of the desperation or anger he’d shown when he’d arrived.
“What are ye doin’ here?”
“Got a call dat Robbie’d been into Maloney’s for a pint, so I stopped by yer mum’s. She sent me here.”
“Well, everyt’in’s fine, Fadder Kevin. Go on and baptize some babies or bless a fuckin’ house.”
“I’m not here as a priest,” Kevie replied quietly, unable to hold back the traces of hurt and exasperation in his voice. “I’m here as yer friend.”
“A friend wouldn’t have stopped what I was doin’.”
Kevie looked between Patrick and I, his jaw tight. “A good friend would’ve.”
Patrick jerked, and his gaze flew toward where I was still standing unsteadily against the wall. I didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, but I knew the instant Patrick regretted what he’d done. He looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry, lass.”
“You’re sorry?” I replied uncomfortably.
“Amy—”
I shook my head as he tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t force myself to say another word. I was so embarrassed I just wanted to leave. Not only had the neighborhood priest caught us making out like the horny teenager I was, but with a few chosen words, he’d somehow made Patrick regret it and me feel like a complete idiot.
“Me Da—”
“Really? That’s what you want to talk about?” I practically yelled the words.
“Um, no. I don’t really…”
“It’s time for you to go.” I moved to the door and opened it, staring at the men impatiently. “Well?” I swept my arm toward the street.
Patrick’s nostrils flared at my attitude, but Kevie seemed to be silently laughing
as he passed me with a nod. God, that priest was unlike any I’d ever met.
“We’re goin’ to talk about dis,” Patrick ordered as he paused in the doorway. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, probably not,” I replied before he could finish his sentence. “But it’s no big deal.”
He sighed in frustration as his fist clenched, “Yer only seventeen.”
“Almost eighteen—but who’s counting?” I waved my hand again to usher him out, but before I could evade him, he was gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes.
“We will be discussin’ dis. It’s not at all what ye t'ink, but I need to go back and check on me mum and yer parents will be home soon.”
I would have gladly dropped into the middle of a black hole in that moment, while he stood there staring at me and I tried valiantly not to cry. Patrick had given me the first kiss I’d had in two years, and within moments had completely crushed any enjoyment I’d gotten out of it. He hadn’t just said he was sorry, I could tell by looking at him that he really was sorry. No matter what his reason for regretting the kiss, he’d tainted it.
“Sure. See you soon,” I said with a nod, pulling my face away.
He left without another word, and after he’d gone, I spent more time than I should have leaning against the closed front door while I stared at the wall he’d pressed me up against. The most incredibly sexy moment of my entire life had been something he was ashamed of.
I decided then that I’d avoid him as much as I could until he left for school again. We didn’t need to talk; it would be better for everyone if we forgot anything had ever happened.
Unfortunately, Patrick Gallagher had other ideas… and as much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to realize that he usually got what he wanted.
Chapter 10
Amy
“I’m going to bed,” I called to my parents from the doorway of my room.
I wasn’t sure why I still did things like that—apprised them of my movements as if they actually cared one way or the other. I think it had become a habit, a way of making them acknowledge me in some small way. Even if they didn’t care what I was doing, they couldn’t escape the knowledge if I gave it to them deliberately. It was a subtle fuck you, one that wasn’t noticeable from my tone or manner, but was there just the same.
They murmured back in response as they cuddled on the couch, my dad’s arm wrapped tightly around my mom’s shoulders in an uncommon show of intimacy. It made me shudder in revulsion, knowing that she must have made him very happy during their time away for him to treat her so gently. I refused to let my mind contemplate what she could have done with their ‘new friends’ that would warrant such behavior.
They’d gotten home right after I’d finished the sandwich that was my dinner, my mom giggling softly like a young girl as my dad led her through the doorway. I was sure that any other child on the planet would have felt comforted by the tableau, but it only made my stomach turn in apprehension. He was pleased with her, and she was glowing in his approval, and I hated knowing that whatever had happened was probably worse than I could even imagine.
Neither of my parents said a word about the man they’d sent to the house the day before. Other than the appraising look my mom gave me as she passed me in the hallway later, not one word was spoken about what or who I had done that weekend. It was as if nothing had changed, like the small bit of trust I’d had for them hadn’t completely vanished like a puff of smoke from a cigarette on a windy day.
Like they hadn’t betrayed their own child by paying a stranger to divest her of her virginity.
For the most part, I was glad that they hadn’t tried to discuss it with me, not that I thought my dad would say a word about it. But a small part of me resented the fact that my mom continued on as if nothing had happened. What if it had been horrible? What if the man they’d sent me had hurt me? They had no clue what had gone down with the prostitute they’d sent, and they didn’t seem to care. While it wasn’t surprising, I couldn’t deny that it hurt like hell.
I fell asleep easily that night, my parents’ tired expressions divesting me of my worry about visitors in the house. I shouldn’t have been so confident of their plans since things had been changing so quickly, but the events of the day made my entire body sluggish, as if I’d spent hours crying. Even if I’d been afraid, I wouldn’t have been able to stay awake. I was exhausted.
When my mattress dipped later that night, my first thought as I slid into wakefulness was absolute disgust that I’d grown complacent in locking my door. But before that disgust could turn to fear, my arms were pinned by hands braced at my shoulders, pulling my blankets taut against my chest. Warm breath fanned my face as I opened my mouth to scream.
“Ye’ll wake yer folks if ye scream,” a familiar voice whispered, “It’s just me, love.”
I relaxed into the bed as relief rushed through me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, pushing at the blankets that held me immobile. “How did you get in?”
“I told ye de locks were shite.”
“Let me up!”
He was silent for a moment while he considered my order. “What are ye wearin’ under dere?”
“Are you shitting me?” I paused, waiting for an answer that never came, then huffed loudly. “A tank top and shorts, you pervert. Happy?”
“No bra?”
My mouth gaped like a fish as I stared at him, my face heating. “You’re such a creep. No, I don’t have a bra on, what woman sleeps with her frigging bra on?”
“I’m holdin’ on by a t’read here, yeah?” he warned, leaning closer until I could see his eyes in the sliver of moonlight coming in through my window. “I know yer not seein’ much right now, but me eyes have adjusted already to de dark. I’ve seen what ye sleep in, lass, and I’ll not be seein’ it again tonight, yeah? Else, me good intentions will fly out yer window dere.”
“Okay,” I replied. He was serious, and I was a mixture of extremely pleased with his words and completely mystified by them. “You want me,” I commented stupidly to verify.
“Christ.” He leaned down and rubbed his stubbly cheek along mine, his lips brushing my jaw. “I’d give anyt’in’ to climb into dose sheets wit’ ye, but I won’t.”
“Why the hell not?” My voice was too loud in the quiet night, and he hushed me by putting his hand over my mouth, unwittingly freeing me from the blankets.
“I’ve no argument wit’ kickin’ de shite out of yer da, but ye might not want to deal wit’ de fallout of dat.” He pulled his hand from my mouth and ran his fingers gently through the hair at my temple.
“Sorry! God, you don’t make any sense. Why the hell are you doing this?” My body was heating from the way he was touching me, and it seemed really freaking cruel that he would continue to move his hand along the side of my face when he had no intention of following through. I jerked my head to the side and away from his fingers. “Quit it.”
His breath caught at my movement, and his head tilted to the side as he eyed the blankets that had pulled down my chest a few inches. They weren’t low, my breasts were still completely covered, but a wide expanse of my neck and collarbone were suddenly bare. He jerked as he processed what he was seeing, which was really just an innocent patch of skin. However, the expression on his face was like I’d stripped myself bare.
“Holy Mot’er,” he mumbled, lifting his hand to run it across my throat. “Do ye have any idea how appealin’ I find ye?”
His voice was thick with lust, and my heart began to pound in excitement. The tension between us seemed to grow stronger as he continued to run his fingers all over the skin of my chest, sometimes so incredibly soft that I could barely feel it and other times rough enough that I knew there would be faint fingernail marks from where he had dragged them across me. We were silent as our eyes met and held, but neither of us moved as he continued to caress me.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. My legs were tense und
er the blankets, my knees tilting slightly outward, and I needed so badly to arch my hips to try and find some friction that the restraint was causing my body to break out into a sweat. Before he could stop me, I’d shoved the blankets to my waist, the cold night air a relief that made goose bumps break out over my shoulders and my nipples bead tightly against my thin tank top.
He groaned deep in his throat and the sound gave me pause, realizing how far I was pushing him and the control he was exhibiting as he tried to hold himself back. His hand at my neck began to tremble as he watched it slide down to the top of my shirt. His eyes roamed over what I’d uncovered as he stood and turned toward me, his hand never leaving me.
His eyes finally met mine as he climbed on top of me, never removing the blankets that separated us from the waist down. My legs instinctively spread as his hips met mine. Perhaps I should have been more nervous than I was, but I was nearly eighteen years old. I wasn’t ignorant to male/female relationships and all that they entailed, and I’d never been more attracted to anyone. I wanted him there, between my legs—and though I may not have been ready to have sex with him, I knew deep in my gut that it wouldn’t get that far. I trusted Patrick implicitly, and it didn’t matter how hard I’d pushed him, he’d never go farther than I was comfortable with.
“Yer goin’ to kill me,” he said quietly, as he braced himself above me.
His lips met mine before the words were fully formed and the second he’d finished speaking, his tongue was in my mouth, rubbing against mine. He tasted like cigarettes, something I’d never imagined I’d enjoy, but I couldn’t get enough of him. There was something about the way he touched me, the way he held back even though I made it clear that I was all in—it turned me on even more. It gave me the courage I may not have had otherwise. I let go of the blankets at my waist, the need to feel his skin was so strong that I moaned into his mouth as my hands slipped under the front of his t-shirt where it was gaping between us.