Luck of The Irish (Getting Lucky)

"Really?" Erin asked, lowering her voice. Her eyes glanced toward the back room. "He's never said that to me," she whispered.

God she was cute.

"Give him a break." My hand pulled her face back towards mine as I grabbed her bottom lip and nipped gently. “Give me a break, too. I have his best interest in mind even if he doesn’t want to share every moment of it with you. Don’t go blow it up before he talks to you about it on his own.”

"I don't blow up shit, thank you very much."

"You're pretty wound up, A Chara." I kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you let me unwind you?”

"Oh, and how do you do that?"

"You're gonna pack a bag and come over to my house for the night," I said.

"Aiden, it’s a school night," she said. Her hand went up to her hair, and she started twirling her fingers in her dark waves.

"I know it’s a school night, but the last time I checked, you and I were adults. We can make our own rules and do whatever we please.”

"What about Liam?"

"He's seventeen years old. I think he can tend to himself for one night."

"I've got classes tomorrow, too," she said. She flung her arm in the direction of the pile of books on the kitchen table. I laughed at her dramatic expression.

"Bring them," I said. “I’ll help you study.”

"I really don't think you had statistics in mind for tonight."

"I just want you to have a good night's sleep on a bed."

"Aren't you gettin' ahead of yourself, McCarthy?"

"Sleep, Erin. I know how hard you work for you and Liam. I want to pamper you for a night."

She was so intensely pretty to look at that sometimes it hurt. My desire for her was all encompassing and I thought of nothing but her each and every day at work. The twinkle in her eye, to how her mouth set in a frown when she worried. I memorized her habits of twirling a dark curl on her finger whenever she was lost in thought, to the amount of half and half she poured into her favorite coffee cup. Erin was a fighter through and through, just like I was. A soul who cared too much and had been hurt deeply by those closest to her. I’d vowed to be the man to make it up to her, the person she could always and forever trust.

"Pamper me, huh?" she asked.

"Yes! Pamper you. Draw you a bath, fluff your pillow. Make you an Irish breakfast in the morning."

"I thought you didn't cook."

"I can make breakfast. What do ya’ say," I asked. "You going to let me take care of you for the night."

I watched her face, ready to rebuke any objection from her. One way or another, I was taking Erin Walsh home for the night with me. "Erin, did I ever tell you I'm the kind of man who gets what he wants?”

"I thought it was about pampering me," she said, pushing back from me.

“I want you,” I told her, staring her point blank in the face. My cock stiffened in my jeans just saying those words.

"Woman, I’ll work hard to make you mine. I know you feel it, too. I'm not alone here. You can sense what happens whenever I’m close to you.”

"Sense what?"

"That undeniable chemistry. That spark we ignite. I never felt a rush like this in my life before, not even after winning my best fights.”

She glanced down, her head bent. "It’s a struggle for me Aiden, trusting men."

"I don't know who hurt you, and if I did, I would intentionally cause that person a world of pain, believe me. But I'm not the person who hurt you, Erin. I'm a good guy, an honest guy who works hard. I’ve spent my whole life trying to achieve stability and that’s something I want to share with you.”

She kept her face turned away from me so I couldn’t see her tears or the turmoil written on her brow. When she didn't respond right away, I felt my frustration taking over. "Ok," I said, shaking my head, "I thought we were getting somewhere, but maybe I was wrong. I'll leave you alone tonight, but I'm not giving up on you, Erin. Not now and not ever. Or at least until you tell me to." I kissed her on the tip of her nose and started to walk away.

"Wait," she said. Her voice froze me in my tracks. I turned slowly and watched as she conjured a smile and stepped toward me. "Give me ten minutes to pack a bag."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm sure."

.

Chapter 8

Erin

Aiden’s apartment was not at all what I was expecting. I guess I imagined some small, dank place with piles of laundry in every corner of the floor—a homier version of the gym, complete with dirty towels and spray bottles of citrus scented industrial cleaner. To my surprise, Aiden’s apartment was large, airy, and minimalist to the core. And the place was spotless, he did a better job of keeping house than me and my brother did. He lived in a warehouse that had been converted to lofts, a design strategy that before stepping foot in his flat, I’d attributed as a quintessentially American phenomenon, something rarely found in Europe. Exposed beams extended overhead and brick walls gave it a modern grit that was fitting with Aiden’s work and his character. The furniture was functional and straightforward and unlike ours, did not look like it had been dumped for repurposing on a dark corner. I’d been blissfully unaware of how shabby my digs must have looked in comparison to his own and felt embarrassed by the whole mess of a situation that was my small apartment. Aiden’s loft was pristine and masculine and suited him perfectly.