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On His Terms(53)



“Thank you.” She took the flowers, and loved that they weren’t anything fancy, just daisies and baby’s breath, and a few lilies. “They’re beautiful,” she said and looked up at him.

He reached out and touched the bracelet she wore. “I’m glad these got to you safely.”

She nodded, licked her suddenly dry lips, and knew that what she needed to say would need to be done now. “Listen, I did a lot of thinking yesterday after I left your place, well, all week actually.”

He didn’t say anything, but his focus was directed right on her.

“I hated you for a long time.” She watched as his throat worked. “But deep down I hoped that what I was feeling was for a man other than the one you portrayed.” She glanced down at the flowers. “I wanted you, and felt things for you that pissed me off because of the way you acted.” When she looked at him again it was to see this vulnerable expression on his face. “But after that week with you, and aside from the reason why I was with you, I saw the man that you hold deep in here.” She placed her hand right over his heart.

“Sorcha, I—”

“Wait, let me say this because after I’m finished you might kick me out, too.” She smiled, but it was a little forced. “I have feelings for you. I’m not saying I’m in love, but these are not just passing feelings either. I’ve felt this way for you for months now, and something I buried deep inside of me—”

He stopped her with a hard, passionate kiss, but she placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away.

“No, just let me kiss you,” he said in this desperate voice, and she gave into him. The kiss was long, hard and full of this longing need that she hadn’t even known was there. It was like something had been missing, and until things happened this way she had been in the dark.

“But what about what I just said?” she asked against his mouth.

“I want you. You want me, and I’m not about to let anyone stop me from having you, Sorcha.” He pulled back, cupped her face in that way that she had grown to love so much, and smiled up at up. “This is not just sex for me.”

“You and I don’t fit together, and I’m sure people will bring that to everyone’s attention.”

He shrugged. “I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks. I don’t care if it’s taken six months, and one week of having you to myself, to have me realize that I am tired of everything else. I just want you, and am ready to try this out.” There was demand in his voice, and as always his control. “I will crush anyone that stands in my way, you know I will.”

She nodded and chuckled, and as surreal as all of this seemed, she wanted t try it out. If things didn’t work, then they didn’t, but she’d never know until she tried it out.

“Besides, maybe I’ll take a long vacation to a deserted island, and bring you with me to keep me company.” He grinned.

“Getting away from everything? I think I like the sound of that.”

He grabbed her under the ass, lifted her up, and kissed her hard again. Hell, she’d let him take her right here and now, because all she was going to care about from this moment on was how she felt, and not what anyone said, or what was on the surface.





Chapter Seventeen



The following weekend



He watched her from her kitchen room table, loved that she was in her element right now, even though that meant she washed the dishes from the meal and refused to let him help. He grinned picked up his cup of coffee, and drank it slowly while he watched her over the rim. Truth be told, he could stare at her all day every day and never get enough. When she had invited him over for dinner, he had been surprised, but so ready to move forward with this relationship, or whatever it was they were doing. He wanted a relationship, wanted her to be a part of his life, and he was willing to wait as long as she needed to make that happen.

He already knew the sun had set, but the night sky couldn’t be seen through the lone window she had. It really did face a brick wall, but she surprisingly didn’t care, and because of that he couldn’t help but grin. He stood and walked over to the pictures that lined the bookshelf she had. He saw the pictures of her and a woman that looked exactly like her.

Her mother that had passed.

He glanced at her and saw her washing the dishes, and heard her humming along to the song that lightly played from the iPod he had brought over for her. He had filled it with all of his favorites, and some that he thought she might enjoy. He was actually impressed she had stopped at “End of Days” by Thirty Seconds to Mars. It wasn’t a slow, easygoing song, but one filled with a lot of heart, soul, and emotion. Out of Bach, Beethoven, and some of the more modern songs he had loaded on there he smiled that she chose the one that was devastatingly beautiful in its own dark way.