Ramsay(35)

"I don't regret what we did," she said as if reading my mind. "I wanted it. So much. It was incredible."

I turned so we were facing each other and used my index finger to tip  her chin up, looking into her impossibly lovely face, drenched in  emotion. I thought I understood, though. "You've been carrying a lot,  Lydia. For a long time. You've had so much on your shoulders, and no one  to help, no one who really understood." And what we'd just done had  broken the dam. "Making love to you was intense for me too." I kissed  the tip of her nose. "I feel it too, Mo Chroí."

"You do?" she squeaked.

I nodded, pulling her close. "Let it out, Lydia. Let it go. Let me hold you." Need me, Lydia.

She curled up in my arms. And she cried. I continued to utter quiet  words to her, mostly in Gaelic, the language I associated with comfort  and felt safe to use without considering my words. And so I let them  flow freely from my lips.                       
       
           



       

"Hush, mó ghrá."

Hush, my love.

"Mo aingeal."

My angel.

"Mó shaol."

My life.

Once her sniffles and sobs quieted and her tears seemed to dry, I pulled  back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted  slightly, her breathing slow and normal. She was asleep. "Mo Chroí," I  whispered, smoothing her hair back before I slipped out from beneath  her. She mumbled softly in her sleep and turned over, bringing her knees  up. I watched her sleep for a moment before going to the bathroom where  I flushed the condom. I stood at the sink for a few moments, holding on  to the countertop as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. I was  grappling with so many emotions I hardly knew where to start sorting  them out. I was blissfully happy to have made love to Lydia, but I was  scared, too, not only of my own powerful feelings, but because of all  the things that threatened to steal her from me just when I might have  her back.

I let out a deep sigh, turning from the mirror and crossing my arms over  my bare chest. I had created an impossible situation, and I was going  to try to make it right, but there were so many reasons I might not be  able to now. There were so many reasons I might lose Lydia again. I had  survived it the first time, but I didn't think I'd survive it again.

I returned to bed where I climbed in and gathered Lydia to me, spooning  her from behind. "Brogan," she muttered sleepily, scooting her butt back  into my groin. Despite having just made love, my cock twitched against  her arse with renewed interest. She let out a small snore and I kissed  her shoulder, smiling against her skin.

I'd figure this out. I'd keep her close, and I'd make it right . . . somehow.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




Lydia



I hummed softly, stretching my body and then turning over, burrowing  back into my pillow. With the light in the room already bright, even  behind my closed lids, I cracked one eye open as memories of what had  happened the night before streamed through my mind. "Oh my God," I  breathed, sitting up slightly and then falling back down on my pillow,  my eyes wide open now, staring up at the canopy above me.

Brogan was gone, but it must have only been recently that he'd vacated  the bed because when I glanced at the pillow he'd slept on, the  impression of his head was still there. I smiled at the memory of his  arms around me, his feet tangled with mine, something I noticed each  time I half woke throughout the night. I had never had that, but I had  loved it. Loved being held. Cocooned.

When I thought about what had happened before that, I squeezed my legs  together, feeling the slight ache where Brogan had been. Butterflies  took flight in my belly. Did I feel embarrassed? Regretful? Maybe I  should, but I didn't. I only felt deliciously sore and wonderfully  satisfied, my limbs like jelly. And I felt . . . peaceful, despite no  resolutions to life's problems. In fact, if anything, I'd learned that  things were more complex and challenging than I thought they were.

I cringed slightly when I remembered bawling in Brogan's arms, but he'd  been right. I'd just been so overwhelmed by the intensity of what we'd  done, by all the mind-bending orgasms, all the pent-up emotions, all the  long-held worries and problems that finally broke free in a flood of  tears. I'd never cried about any of it, and the pressure had been  building for years. The power of our lovemaking had finally broken the  dam. And I was just a little embarrassed about that part, but I also  thought it was the main reason I felt so good, cleansed. Even stronger  somehow.

I swung my feet out of bed, glancing at the clock, my eyes widening when  I saw it was almost noon. Walking naked to the bathroom, I brushed my  teeth and tried to smooth my hair into some semblance of normalcy.  Realizing it was impossible, I turned on the shower and got in, sighing  as the hot, pelting water relaxed my muscles even further. After washing  my hair and shaving everywhere, a small thrill went through me when I  wondered if I'd sleep with Brogan again tonight. I wanted to. God, I  really did.

But I was also a little nervous about where this left us, and I still  had the worry for my brother hanging over my head. The only thing I  could hope for was that Brogan was able to buy Stuart some time and that  Stuart would see this as a sort of wake-up call to get his life  together. I felt relieved that Brogan was willing to do anything to help  Stuart at all. I knew he wasn't doing it for Stuart, I knew that. He  was doing it for me and that filled me with warmth and gratitude. And  I'd help Stuart in whatever way I could, too, but if truth be told,  maybe Stuart wasn't cut out to be a businessman. I'd never thought he  derived much pleasure from it. He'd never seemed to really enjoy the  business aspect of De Havilland Enterprises. What he'd enjoyed were the  financial benefits-the ones that, eventually, he'd all but made certain  would completely dry up.                       
       
           



       

Perhaps there was something else that would make Stuart happier anyway.  In some ways he'd never been given an alternative-it had always just  been expected that he'd run the family business when our father passed. I  had to wonder now if he'd been given more of a choice, would he have  chosen to do something different.

Standing in my bra and panties after having just blow-dried my hair, I  heard a knock on my bedroom door and called, "Come in." Brogan came into  the bathroom a few seconds later and stopped in the doorway, his eyes  roaming my body. My heart lurched and a tingle started between my legs.  He was wearing another pair of worn-looking jeans, resting low on his  hips, and a white T-shirt with some bar logo on it. He came up behind me  and wrapped his arms around my body, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. I  bent it to the side to give him more access, shooting him a small smile  in the mirror. I let my eyes linger on the way we looked together: him  so tall and dark, me blonde and-though I'd never been called short at  five seven-so much smaller in comparison. In so many ways we were  opposites, and yet, in so many ways, we seemed like the perfect fit. We  always had.

"How are you this morning, or . . . afternoon?" he asked, kissing my ear  again and inhaling against my hair. A thrill shot through me. He didn't  seem to be regretful. I needed that. His happiness, too. How many years  had I gone without happiness? And when had I stopped noticing?

I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck as he brought his arms lower  on my waist. I tipped my head back to gaze into his face. "Very  relaxed," I said. "I guess I needed the sleep . . . among other things.  You sure do know how to treat your employees, Mr. Ramsay."

He chuckled. "I suppose you are still my employee, for now. Good thing there're no rules against fraternization at my company."

I raised a brow. "How convenient for you."

"Very," he murmured, bringing his lips to mine. He kissed me slowly once  before pulling back. "It's killing me to cut this short, but  unfortunately, I have a meeting in the city, and I have to get you all  set up at my place there. Another game of war later?" He cocked a dark  brow.

I laughed, letting go of his neck and scooting past him. "I thought we made a peace treaty last night."

"Is that what that was?" he asked. I heard something in his voice that  caused me to turn, my shirt held to my chest. The look on his face was  troubled.

I stared at him for a second. "Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Yes," he said. "More than anything. I just . . ." He ran a hand through his thick, black hair.