“Ouch.” Having suffered relatively recent injuries, I can almost feel his pain.
“I broke his jaw in two places, so I’d call it even.” He shrugs, taking another pull from the almost finished joint. His hand moves to my hip, and he pulls me in closer until our bodies are touching, side to side. Arousal spikes in my blood and drenches my panties. I’m trying to talk myself out of climbing into his lap when his lips brush against mine. It’s a teasing touch. The lightest caress, but I feel it everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He touches my chin, and I part my lips, letting him fill my mouth with more smoky temptation.
“You have the most flawless skin,” he whispers, dotting feather-soft kisses along my cheek while drawing circles on my hip through my dress with his thumb. His touch is electric, and I can’t ever remember feeling so turned on from just a few simple touches. Dillon has magic hands and magnetic lips, and I’m slowly falling under his spell, which is so not a good thing.
“What are you doing?” I manage to choke out, grappling with the last vestiges of my self-control.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
Throwing the joint to the ground, he clasps my face firmly in his palms. “I just know I want more of it.”
Before I can utter a single word, his mouth crashes down on mine, and my protest dies on my tongue.
39
“Vivien Grace!” Ash shouts. “Get your tongue out of my brother’s mouth and your arse over here now!”
I rip my lips from Dillon’s and scramble to my feet.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
That shouldn’t have happened, and I’m glad Ash rode to the rescue before the kiss turned more heated.
“Running scared, Hollywood?” Dillon asks, lifting one knee as he smirks in my direction.
“That never happened,” I coolly reply, like my heart isn’t about to sprout wings and erupt from my chest. “We were stoned, and it was barely a kiss anyway.” His lips had only just collided with mine when Ash staged her timely intervention.
Scrubbing a hand over his prickly jaw, he pins me with a cocky look. “If you say so.”
“Ahh. I’m going.” I stomp off toward his sister, flustered and angry with myself, hating how his dark chuckle follows me through the orchard.
“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Ash asks, looping her arm through mine and dragging me away.
“Oh God.” I massage my throbbing temples. “I have no clue. It looked worse than it was, and there were no tongues involved.”
“I didn’t know whether I should interrupt or not,” she admits, steering me toward the house.
“I’m glad you did before it turned into a full-on make-out session. Ugh.” I rub a hand across my tingly lips. “God only knows where those lips have been.” Ash cracks up laughing, and I thump her on the arm. “It’s not funny.” I tug on her jacket as we reach the door, stopping her from entering. “By the way, I’m stoned, and you’re driving home.”
“No problem, but you need to have some apple tart first. Mom took out the fancy china.” She grins, yanking me into the house, my lips still tingling from that barely there kiss.
Shoving my purse at Ash, I squeal, racing across the terminal in Dublin Airport and flinging myself into Audrey’s arms. We hug it out for ages, forcing other passengers to walk around us, but I don’t care. I’ve missed my bestie. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me too. I missed your bony ass.”
“I’m feeling left out,” Ash says, pouting as I shuck out of Audrey’s embrace. “And you’re causing a traffic jam,” she adds, pointing toward the crowd now streaming through the doors into the terminal.
I make quick introductions, and then we hightail it out of there.
Ninety minutes later, the three of us—plus Cat—are huddled in a corner booth of a swanky bar just off St. Stephen’s Green. While I’m keen to show my bestie the traditional pubs we usually frequent, I thought she’d appreciate a classier, more modern bar to start off our mini pub crawl. We can’t get too trashed today. Jet lag will kick Audrey in the ass soon, plus tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. We’ll need our stamina for the nonstop party that lasts all day, if Ash is to be believed. “I can’t believe the sun is shining,” Audrey says, moaning appreciatively as she tastes her first sip of the pink gin cocktail I recommended. “Viv hasn’t stopped bitching and whining about the cold and the rain.”