cake.”
“That makes more sense,” he said, cupping her breast with his palm. He teased the nipple, rubbing his thumb over the hard peak. “There’s this.”
“Still not as good as the stale brownie. But slightly better than two-month-old ice cream.”
He replaced his thumb with his tongue, sucking gently until Nan giggled. “Oh, now that’s better. Now we’re talking about caramel corn-without peanuts.”
“What is this obsession that Americans have with peanuts?” he asked, slowly kissing his way down her belly. When he found the crease between her legs, he slowly teased at it with his tongue.
“Oh, that’s quite lovely,” she said, arching back on the bed, clutching at the sheets. “Tiramisu.”
He teased until she spread her legs, giving him complete control of her body. She found it amazing how uninhibited she became when she was with Riley. In all her prior relationships, she’d been afraid to expose the depth of her need, thinking she might push the boundaries of propriety.
But Riley had taught her that when it came to sex, at least with an Irishman, there were no rules. And enjoying herself was a requirement, not just a possibility.
Nan was quick to reach the edge, but Riley had already learned to read the signs of her impending orgasm. He carefully brought her close again and again and each time, she felt her frustration growing. But it wasn’t impatience holding her back. She wanted to know how far outside herself he could take her, how it would feel to completely and utterly surrender to him.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, whispering his name, waves of sensation racing through her body. But Riley took his time, as if he wanted to prove to her that he could give her something no other man could. She would remember him and their time together, not just for the places they saw and the people they met, but for this.
Again and again, she hurdled toward the edge, only to have him gently draw her back again. But then, when she thought she might never find release, he let her go. The sheer exhilaration was enough to leave her gasping for breath and she felt herself falling and falling. The impact hit suddenly, her body exploding into long, intense spasms of pleasure.
Nan couldn’t think, and for a moment, she lost touch with everything around her, focusing on the contact of his tongue as he continued to torment her. Finally, she pushed him away, unable to take any more, her body trembling and her nerves electrified.
He slowly kissed his way up her body, then curled against her, his head resting on her arm. “You’ll never eat a stale brownie again without thinking of me,” he murmured.
Nan laughed, then turned on her side and playfully slapped his chest. “It won’t be just brownies. Every time I eat dessert, I’ll think of you. Creme brulee. Lemon meringue pie. Three-layer chocolate cake with mocha buttercream icing. And memories of Riley Quinn.”
They lay in bed for a long time, talking and laughing. And then they made love again, this time slowly and deliberately, until they were both completely spent. And as Nan drifted off to sleep, she wondered if the next time she crawled into her bed at home, she would be wishing that Riley was right there with her.
MOONLIGHT POURED through the window of the bedroom, throwing a shaft of light onto the old quilt. They’d turned off the lamp hours ago and Riley had been left to look at her with only the faintest illumination.
She lay beside him, stretched out on her side, the sheet twisted around her waist, offering a tempting view of her naked body. He’d already memorized every beautiful feature of her face, every intriguing detail of her form, and yet he still wanted to just sit and stare.
He’d expected to fall into a deep sleep after another two hours of sex. But the exhaustion he usually felt had been replaced with a strange restlessness. He was energized, his thoughts more focused than at anytime during the day.
His mind whirled with ideas for lyrics and he pushed them aside, determined to fall asleep. Yet everything he’d felt and experienced that night had turned itself into music in his head. It had been so long since he experienced a burst like this and he’d wondered if his passion for songwriting had waned.
But now it was back, full force, and he felt the need to express himself, to pour everything onto the page before it was lost. Riley sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his messy hair.
He was twenty-eight and fast approaching thirty. Most singer-songwriters had made a name for themselves at this point. And if they hadn’t, they’d made plans for the rest of their life. But thoughts of Nan had also brought thoughts of marriage and a family. Someday, he’d want that, but the life of a musician made family life doubly difficult.
His parents had offered to sell him the pub. None of his siblings wanted to run the Hound and Riley seemed like the logical choice since it would give him a permanent venue for his music. But it would also tie him to Ballykirk.
He’d always wanted the life of an itinerant Irish singer. It had always been enough, until now. But was it enough to convince a woman to cast her lot with him? He reached out and smoothed his hand over Nan’s bare arm. She stirred, then slipped back into a deep sleep. Meeting Nan had taught him one thing: someday, there would be a woman he wanted to spend his life with. And he needed to be ready to offer her a future.
Riley sighed. He wanted to wake her, to continue their conversations, to learn everything he could about her. Was she the one he’d been waiting for? How would he know given their limited time together? And what if he let Nan leave, only to find that she had been the perfect woman for him?
Riley carefully rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans. He walked, barefoot, to the front door, then slipped outside.
The wind off the sea buffeted his body and whipped at his hair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. A melody drifted through his head and suddenly, there were words to go with it. He slowly walked down the garden path to the gate, then back again.
It was a good idea, something he ought to write down before he forgot it. Wasn’t this a laugh, he thought to himself. He hadn’t written a decent tune in months and now, a night of good sex had turned that all around. Hell, if he continued on with Nan, he might have a whole new album by the end of the week.
When he got back inside, he searched through the top drawer in a chest, pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. He flipped on a lamp near the sofa and sat down, determined to write all his ideas out and then put the pad away and go back to bed.
But an hour later, when the clock on the mantel struck four, Riley realized that he was glad he hadn’t been able to sleep. Lyrics had poured onto the page, line after line, and each with a melody to go with it. When the lyrics were complete, he went back and added harmonies, sketching out the guitar chords above the words.
He thought about putting on a pot of coffee, but decided to keep working until exhaustion set in naturally. Instead, he got up and fetched a beer from the refrigerator, twisting the cap off as he walked back to the sofa. He spread the three songs out on the floor in front of him, studying them for a long time.
They were good. Really, really good. And they needed to go on the new CD. He had his reason to delay recording. Who knew what he’d come up with in the next week? And the band would have to have time to practice these.
“What are you doing out here?”
The sound of her voice startled him and he glanced over his shoulder to find Nan standing in the bedroom door, her naked body wrapped in the quilt from the bed. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t sleep.”
She walked over to him and plopped down beside him on the sofa. “Are you writing?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m not sure where the inspiration came from but-no, that’s not true. I think I know where the inspiration came from.”
“Where?”
“From what went on in that bedroom,” he said. “I just felt this need to write about it.”
“About sex?”
“No, just about men and women. Passion. Love. All of those things that singers sing about.”
She pulled her feet up on the sofa and snuggled up against him. “Sing me one of them,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“They’re not ready yet,” he said, turning to drop a kiss on the top of her head. Riley sat back, resting his cheek on her soft hair. “But when they’re ready, you’ll be the first one I sing them to.”
“Mmm,” she said. “That’s nice. I like your voice.”
