Lifting one shoulder, I smile sweetly. “I tried to tell you when I first arrived, but no one would listen. You were all too busy judging the book by its cover.”
“I know the truth now,” Dillon says with a suggestive gleam in his eyes.
“And you can keep that truth to yourself, thanks very much,” Ash drawls. “I already know too much, and I’ve seen way too much.” A full-body shudder works its way through her, and Dillon and I bust up laughing.
“What don’t I know?” Ro asks, sitting up straighter with an inquisitive expression on his face.
“Dillon didn’t realize I’d come back to the apartment last night, and he wandered out to the kitchen earlier in all his morning glory. I almost barfed up my breakfast,” Ash explains.
“Hey, I’ll have you know my cock is a work of art. Your best friend certainly seems to think so.” Dillon winks, and I giggle.
“Sisters do not need to see their brother’s dick piercing.” She flops back on the seat, rubbing a hand over her chest as her lips pull into a grimace. “Honestly, I feel ill all over again.”
Ro joins in the laughter this time, and I can’t keep the grin off my face the rest of the way to Kilcoole.
“Pass the spuds,” Ciarán says, looking across the table at Dillon. But my boyfriend doesn’t hear him because he’s too busy trying to jam his hands between my thighs under the table. This is only my third time at Sunday dinner, and I’m sweating buckets, thinking everyone can see the tug of war going on between us.
I don’t know what’s gotten into Dillon today.
Maybe he’s friskier because he took my anal virginity last night, but he hasn’t stopped groping me all day. However, even I have some hard and fast limits. I definitely draw the line at being fingered under the table in front of his entire family, so I’ve spent the last ten minutes swatting his hand away and warning him to behave.
“Earth to lover boy,” Shane bellows, nudging Dillon from his other side. “Get your paws off your woman and pass your brother the spuds.”
My cheeks inflame, and it feels like I might pass out from a combination of embarrassment and overheating.
“Sorry.” Dillon smirks, squeezing my thigh one final time before releasing me, passing the potatoes to Ciarán. “I get hugely distracted whenever my girl is around.”
“We’ve noticed.” Shane smirks, and I can see where Dillon got his smirk from. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I am going to enjoy giving you all the crap you gave me when I fell for Fiona.”
“Stop teasing your brother,” Cath, Dillon’s mom, says. “I think it’s wonderful to finally see Dillon happy and in love.” She beams at us, oblivious to the fact her son has just turned to stone beside me.
Shane subtly nods his head in his mother’s direction, and her smile fades when Dillon abruptly stands, scraping his chair back. “I need a smoke.” Bending down, he pecks my lips. “Finish your dinner. I’ll be back.” Without another glance in my direction, he stalks to the back door and leaves.
53
Dillon doesn’t come back, and I don’t know if I should go out and look for him or if it would be considered rude to get up from the dinner table when we’re not finished. Everyone continues talking and eating as if nothing’s wrong, and I wonder if Dillon storming off and everyone pretending it’s fine is normal.
“Will you help me serve up dessert, Vivien?” Cath asks, breaking me out of my troubled inner monologue.
“Of course.” I get up and follow her into the kitchen. The others remain seated at the table at the other end of the room, talking and laughing.
Cath stands in front of the window, sighing. I stand alongside her, seeing no sign of Dillon outside. Her smile is sad when she turns to me, patting me gently on the back before she walks to the refrigerator.
I whip the cream while Cath removes the apple and rhubarb crumble from the oven. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” she says as we work amicably side by side, spooning servings of crumble and cream into bowls.
“You didn’t offend me, and I don’t think you really offended Dillon either. He struggles to talk about his feelings. I’m sure you know that better than me.”
Dillon is gradually opening up to me, but anytime the conversation veers into heavy subject matter, he tends to clam up. He still hasn’t told me what happened when he was seventeen, but he has alluded to it a few times. I’m torn between wanting to push him—because I want to know everything there is to know about him—and letting it drop. Our relationship has a termination date, and encouraging him to fully open himself up to me emotionally will only make that inevitable ending all the harder. Right now, we’re having tons of fun, and we talk about all manner of things when we’re not out in a pub or fucking like bunnies. I’ve decided not to push it. To just go with the flow and accept our relationship for what it is.