There was a deep sadness in the realization that you were always the one chasing, never pursued. At least when it came to someone she thought she had a connection with. From the moment she and Caoimhín’s eyes had met in the wild lighting of Le Rouge it was felt, just a click and an easy smile that led to conversation that was as natural as breathing. Then he was walking her home and hanging out in her kitchen, sitting with Brooklyn on the couch, and eventually curling up in her bed beside her. In these tense moments now across the kitchen from one another, to know that each step came from her movements sent a small pang through her ribcage.
It was the same on Valentine’s Day, the Hallmark holiday that potentially ruined the good thing they’d had going — with her pulling him into a dance on the sidewalk to music being played in the streets, to her pressing her lips to his on not one but two occasions completely caught up in the romanticism of the night. In the days following, with his silence and absence, the sinking feeling she had done something wrong put her anxiety on the rise. The assumed need for space was given, afraid of what might transpire between them if Lena reached out and attempted communication.
Now, the confusion she had been feeling as of late had begun to dissipate and the brunette was beginning to understand why it felt as though her heart was in her hands.
With him crossing the room toward her, Lena could feel her pulse speed up and her body heat began to rise. Anxiety and nerves prompted her chest to rise and fall at a quicker pace and the brunette began to feel a little light. The only comfort she felt in that moment was the slight tremble in his hand as it rested upon her cheek. Moments later they each seemed to calm and her dark eyes bore into the depths of pale blue she’d become so attached to and enamored with. With him so close that his scent invaded her senses, her hand rose to give his a quick squeeze and she visibly swallowed noting that the intent in his gaze had changed.
Dark eyes were shifting between the ocean and his lips, she scrutinized his face attempting to get a read on him. Had she somehow manipulated this moment and pushed him into action? Doubt continued to swirl about, only pausing as his lips briefly pressed against her own. It was too quick for her to respond and her eyes questioned his hesitation as his words made her feel lonely. Giving in or obliging something he didn’t want was no reward, yet she wasn’t really left with time to contemplate as his lips mixed with hers once more. Hers parted as he pressed deeper, then slowly began to move in sync with his. A soft, feminine moan sounded into their kiss when Caoimhín’s hand moved into her hair and simultaneously pulled her closer by the hip against him.
Soft hands touched his sides and took a northern route, moving over his chest and collarbones, brushing a thumb against the curve of his neck before wrapping around him. The brunette’s fingers combed up into his hair the same moment her tongue met his, causing a jolt to spring through her own body. She gripped into his shirt, fisting up the fabric slightly into her palm right between his shoulder blades. Finding a moment for a deep breath against Caoimhín’s mouth, her figure sought out the hard planes of his when her greedy lips asked for more affection, kissing him and sucking his bottom lip gently when pulling back.
The beauty and stature of a woman like Lena wasn’t lost on Caoimhín. It would never change how he treated her or thought about her, but in their earliest encounters, it did make him consider himself. He was a nobody from the inner city of Dublin. Surrounded by poverty, crime, pain, all of which had impacted his family directly. Despite how well he had done to escape that life, the identity of Tallaght and the reputation it forced upon you was hard to escape.
That past and his own views on himself didn’t help him with his confidence when it came to women like Lena, and even though his natural charm made it so that he could talk with her and connect, he still didn’t dare to pursue her because for him, he wasn’t worthy of a woman like her.
That changed over time. He still saw her like a goddess, and held her high above everyone else in his life, but they grew close and that intimacy showed him the depth to her and it was that side of her he identified with most. That they were more similar than image and status suggested, and the more he learned, those lines blurred. The Irishman found himself becoming more confident with displaying his affections for her, but of course, he never crossed the line as his own shyness and respect for her outweighed his own feelings. Caoimhín expected the best for her and for her to be held to the highest of standards by all, including himself. That’s why he took her lead in their “friendship” as he knew that men often made her day much more difficult with their desires for her, and he didn’t want to be that to her. She mattered too much.
Each tentative step, his heart rate soared and he was sure his pale skin was red once again, but this time from the fire that he felt inside of him. The fire that she had ignited the night she had chose to kiss him. His absence since then hadn’t been because of her, but because he felt so strongly about her that he needed to calm. However, the space and time only made him ache more for her, which is why he had turned to alcohol trying to calm again, which normally worked for him but not when it came to her. The only thing that had calmed him to this point was when his hand touched her cheek, like he had finally gave his body what it needed. The strength of her gaze told him everything he needed to know and for once his mind was clear, he knew that he could take the lead and that any doubts he had in his past when it came to them, they were gone. For this moment.
His words had been whispered between their kisses in an attempt to reassure her. That whatever she wanted with him would always be okay with him as he wanted everything with her, even if he was too scared to say it. However, words had never been his strong suit and had he had time to reflect, he probably would have repeated what he had said and continued to ramble reassurances nervously. Instead, the kiss was his rambled reassurances and the physical act was something he was more confident with. Her moan slipped into the kiss, which made his pulse quicken, a hunger growing within him.
The feel of her hands on his body burned and a deep groan ticked the back of his throat and fell into their kiss. Her tongue felt smooth and warm and his owned pressed gently against hers, but when he felt her body react to him he dared to press more roughly, needing to feel more of her. Caoimhín rubbed his nose affectionately against hers when she stole a breath, lips parted and touching hers, unable to be apart for too long. The sucking of his bottom lip caused a moan and he crashed his lips back on to hers, tongue moving against hers as they savoured the taste of each other.
His hand in her hair slipped down the curve of her body and rested on her hip. Both hands dared to move to grip her thighs, lifting her up to meet him more closely, pulling her legs around his waist. If she doubted his want for her, there was no doubting now. Caoimhín pressed her back into the counter and brought his hips between her thighs, tight against her centre, leading them into another phase of their relationship.
