

### Lucky Me

Kelly Moran

About the Book:

Declan O'Leary's family is cursed. For the past one-hundred years, bad things happen if they fall in love. So Declan lives his life one woman at a time. Until he meets Lily Durand and he finds himself wishing for a forever that can never be. Yet their fate encounter and one week of bliss just might be enough to turn his luck around.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Kelly Moran

Featured in the Getting Lucky Anthology in 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN: 9781311297402

Smashwords eBook Edition

Cover Art by Kelly Moran

Images courtesy of Dollar Photo Club

Published in the United States of America
Praise for Kelly Moran's Books:

"Breathes life into an appealing story."

Publishers Weekly

"Readers will fall in love."

Romantic Times

"Great escape reading."

Library Journal

"Touching & gratifying."

Kirkus Reviews

"Sexy, heart-tugging fun."

USA Today HEA

"Emotional & totally engaging."

Carla Neggers

"A gem of a writer."

Sharon Sala

"I read in one sitting."

Carly Phillips

"Compelling characters."

Roxanne St. Claire

"A sexy, emotional romance."

Kim Karr

"An emotionally raw story. A compelling read."

Katie Ashley

### Day One

The first time I saw her was in late summer. St. Louis had been at the tail end of a blistering heat wave, so hot the asphalt radiated like a cast iron skillet and merely blinking was enough to land you in the hospital from too much exertion. She was sitting on a bench in the park next to the library, a book in her hand and back to me. I'd had my eight-year-old nephew Liam with me. I'd thought to let him run through the wading pool before we headed back to my apartment after our lunch. One look at her and she'd stopped me dead in my tracks.

I'm still not entirely sure if it had been her dark hair trying to break free of the orderly knot at the back of her head, the pencil skirt and white blouse that had made her seem so sophisticated, or the shamrock tattoo on her elegant nape that had first drawn my attention. Probably the ink. Clovers had been a bone of contention in my family since my great-grandfather had thrust us into our one-hundred year curse. Irish or not, myth or not, the shamrock was not a lucky charm in the O'Leary clan.

Regardless of what had drawn me to her, the sizzle in my gut and pull on my balls had been something akin to impact. Sending my nephew ahead to the playground within sight, I'd rounded the bench and said something brilliant like, "Hot one outside today."

Which was interesting because beauty didn't typically strike me stupid. I'd had women before, had basked in their loveliness, had taken many to bed. All had been left satisfied--screaming my name, mewing their post-coital pleasure, panting for breath...and wishing for more. That's not arrogance, it's fact. Due to my family's...bad luck, picket fences and ever afters would never be in the cards. So, I'd learned long ago to take--and give--pleasure and happiness where I could. Practice made perfect. I was a master at foreplay, verbal or otherwise. I did not get tongue-tied or flustered in a female's presence.

She'd glanced up from her book and had struck me blind with a pair of cerulean blue eyes. Framed by thick black lashes, they were the kind of eyes that made a man notice that particular feature before all others. Even an ass like myself had been trapped by them for what seemed a good hundred years before I'd taken in her slight curves, full breasts, and long holy-hell legs. Fantasy after fantasy had pummeled my brain as I devoured her.

I said I was an ass.

With a tilt of her head, those bow-shaped lips of hers had started moving. It had taken concentration, but I'd focused on what she'd said. And that had proved fruitless because whatever wonderful insight had drifted from her perfect mouth had been spoken in another language. French, I believe.

My gaze had dipped to the book in her lap. _Wuthering Heights_. I should've lost interest at that point. Any woman who read Bronte for fun was dangerous. Alas, it had only peaked my curiosity. The edition had been in English. Which meant she'd been trying to brush me off by responding in French.

With a dip of my chin and smile tugging my mouth, I'd said, "Have it your way, _a mo rún_." Irish Translation: my secret. I hadn't planned on giving up. I'd figured I'd let Liam cool down in the pool and swing back that way to see her again. Much to my errant discontent, she'd been gone when we'd returned.

To say she'd crossed my mind in the ensuing months would be like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a puddle. I'd drifted to the same park countless times and had never spotted her there again.

One week before Christmas, however, I'd just stepped out of the office building where I worked after a staff meeting I'd wished I'd called in sick for, and there she'd been. Across the street from the newspaper headquarters, she'd worn a red peacoat, white scarf, and black pants as she walked with purpose on the sidewalk. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders and trailed halfway down her back. In her hand had been a to-go cup of coffee from an independent bean house I loved. I'd done a double--and then a triple--take, not believing it had been her. Frozen in my spot, I'd stared as she'd gotten farther and farther away.

Then, she'd turned her head, as if someone had called her name. Her blue gaze scanned the area, landed on me, and stalled. The breath left my lungs in a whoosh, expelling frost before my face that had been carried away by a bitter wind. She'd tilted her head, much like she'd done a few months prior, and smiled.

Then, she was gone. Again.

Kicked into gear, I'd crossed the busy street, nearly gotten myself killed in traffic, and chased after her for several blocks. With no sign of her, I'd ventured into the coffee house to ask around and had received not one stitch of information. I'd even visited the shop every day for a week at the same time each morning, and nothing.

A few weeks later, while attending the mayor's annual New Year's Eve party at the St. Louis Art Museum on Fine Arts Drive, champagne halfway to my mouth and five minutes until midnight, I'd glanced across the crowded room. And saw her. Alone in a corner, she had on a strapless emerald dress that enhanced her hourglass curves and dipped low enough in the front to draw my attention from her eyes to the creamy white swell of her breasts. Her hair had been loosely pinned off her neck in some elaborate feminine style.

Champagne flute in her hand, a wistful, distant smile on her lips, her gaze drifted from the people dancing to the caterer's table and, finally, to me. For a moment, her brows arched, as if she'd realized running into each other had become an epidemic, too. Slowly, her mouth widened into a grin that had me dizzy and grappling for stable ground.

One of the men I'd been chatting with tapped my shoulder to say his goodbyes, and I'd reluctantly torn my gaze from her to extend courtesy. I'd shaken the banker's hand as the crowd started counting down the new year.

Ten, nine...

I'd turned, ready to head to my mystery woman's corner to, at the very least, get her name. Are you seeing the pattern? Can you guess what happened next?

Eight, seven...

Yeah, luck had never been on my side and, combine that with the family curse, I'd been screwed from the first blink of her baby blues. She was destined to be an elusive, intangible blip in my life--a cock and mind tease to the nth degree.

Six, five...

I'd set my glass on a passing waiter's tray and strode to where I'd last seen her. Pissed off, I'd turned three-hundred and sixty degrees.

Four, three...

I'd woven through the bodies. Checked the hallway and front foyer.

Two, one...

Gone, baby, gone.

_Happy New Year_ it was not. I'd searched the grounds, the street, asked the doormen. She had dissolved into the night like she had vanished the last two times I'd encountered her.

Three plus months had passed since then. Little more than a week before the dreaded St. Patrick's Day holiday, and I sat in my brother's pub, at a high top table with two of my best former college buddies, scaling the joint for my next conquest. My heart wasn't in it. Truth be told, I hadn't had a woman since the second time I'd encountered _her_ right before Christmas. Hell of a dry spell for me.

Heath was married and had kid number one on the way. He was ensnared in Josh's tale of Valentine's gone wrong. A perpetual bachelor, like myself, Josh relayed his credence to never date on Cupid's day. I pretty much chalked the hearts-and-shit holiday to an excuse for Hallmark to sell more cards.

I sipped my whiskey, half-listening to my mates. The place was pretty busy for a Friday night. It was ladies night and there were plenty of them. Only a few open tables remained, coupled with a handful of bar stools. Desperation clung to the air. Ice clanked in glasses. Laugher rose over the Celtic music playing through the speakers.

My brother knew how to run a great pub, that was for sure. Gleaming, polished wood, green leather seats, a stone hearth in the corner. Brass fixtures reflected the old-world lanterns. Irish Eyes had been quite the success in the ten years since Aiden had opened.

The familiar jangle of the door, followed by a brisk, cold blast of air, barely registered in my head. I swirled the ice in my glass, ready to call it a night, despite the early hour and me not needing to work in the morning. I'd turned in a few articles at the newspaper this morning, so I was good for a couple weeks.

"Serious potential, nine o'clock," Josh said.

Sighing, I lifted my head, glanced at the door, and stilled. No goddamn way. "Son of a bitch. It's her."

"Her who?" Heath asked, following my gaze.

"The woman from the park." Edging forward, I watched as she stripped out of a blue raincoat and set it on the back of a stool. Leaning over the bar, she kissed my brother on the cheek and took a seat. Tonight she had on a red T-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that did fan-fucking-tastic things for her legs. I couldn't make out what the shirt said from here. Her hair was in a high ponytail, little wisps floating around her face.

"Are you serious?"

Unwilling to lose sight of her again, lest she disappear, I nodded for Josh's benefit.

Something strange took a hold of me, made me unable to move. Everything inside my head screamed to stay right where I was, not to engage. My strange fascination for her was unlike me and not healthy. Despite my mind's two cents, my body wasn't listening to direct orders. She was pulling me into her orbit without her even knowing I was in the pub. She hadn't looked my way.

"Damn. Does that mean she's off limits?"

I growled. "Fuck, yes." Apparently, she made me territorial, too. My buddies and I had an unspoken rule. We didn't sleep with the same women and we didn't step in when the others were interested. Period. I trusted Josh to get the hint, yet... The thought of someone else touching her had red-hot flames licking under my skin and my temples pounding. Standing, I grabbed my glass. "Dibs," I said, like we were back at the University of Missouri at a frat party.

Blood roaring, body vibrating, I made my way across the hardwood floor. With every step closer to her, my heart pounded. I was finally going to talk to her. Learn her name. More...

Three, two, one.

Leaning an elbow on the bar, I faced her. "Of all the gin joints in all the world, you walk into mine." Cheesy? A little. I didn't use lines to pick up women, didn't need to, but part of me wanted to test her. At twenty-eight years old, most of my generation had not seen the movie _Casablanca_. In the barest glances I've had of her, I noticed she had a world-weary way about her, a grace rarely seen nowadays. I was more curious than anything whether she recognized the film. Besides, it broke the ice.

She turned to me, those shocking blue eyes widening in surprise for a flicker of an instant before returning to aloof. "Seeing as this is an Irish pub, wouldn't it be more prudent to say 'of all the whiskey joints?'"

Even as a flare of disappointment hit for her not acknowledging the nature of the quote, I smiled. "Witty." I sat on the stool next to her.

Smiling, she dropped her chin in her palm. "And technically, this is Aiden's bar, not yours."

"Touché." But how did she know that, or my brother, for that matter?

As if summoned, Aiden made his way to us, wiping a glass with a white towel. "Declan. Need a refill?" My brother, four years older than me, was a good-looking guy, but eight years of raising Liam as a single father had worn on him. Or perhaps, it was just time that crinkled the corners of his eyes and had gray weaving through his black hair.

"I'm good." I turned to my mystery woman.

Ah, the head tilt. I couldn't tell yet if she did this out of interest or acknowledgement. "Does using Bogart quotes from _Casablanca_ typically work for you when trying to pick up women?"

Fuck me. My interest in her notched to all-consuming. I shrugged with a nonchalance I didn't feel. "Don't know, _a mo rún_. I've never tried before." I held out my hand. "Declan O'Leary."

"Lily Durand." She didn't hesitate in shaking my hand. Her grip was firm and delicate at the same time. Her skin, smooth as glass and warm as a good ale hitting my gut, sent my pulse thumping hard. I wondered if she was this soft everywhere and intended to find out.

"You, Lily Durand, are a hard woman to pin down."

Amusement lit her eyes, curved her lips, and I wanted to kiss that sexy little mouth until she felt something else entirely. "Am I?"

I gave her a grunt of agreement. "Three times I accidently run into you, and three times you escaped me." No way in hell was it happening again.

Her eyebrows arched. "We'll always have Paris."

My fingers tightened around my glass. My balls ached in pure, unadulterated desire. The combination of her quoting _Casablanca_ back to me and her teasing me over speaking French the first time we'd met was so...fucking...hot. "One might call this encounter fate."

She took a sip from her pint in response, eyeing me over the top of the glass. Her curious--and interested--gaze swept my face.

My family didn't carry the typical Irish fair skin and hair, but rather the Celtic end, or Black Irish, as some would say. My eyes were as green as summer grass in the old country, so I've been told, and I had a perpetual shadow on my jaw either from being unwilling or not interested in shaving. I once dated an artist who said I had perfect symmetry to my face and high cheekbones. I take care of myself, eat right, and work out three times a week at my home gym. I had the defined arms and wide shoulders, along with the six pack abs, women found attractive. Again, not arrogance, fact.

I appreciated women, all sizes, but those who took care with their appearance turned my head first. Not out of a sense of vanity, but because it reflected confidence in themselves. To me, this didn't mean makeup and designer clothes. In honesty, I could care less what a woman wore or what size jeans she filled. It was how they carried themselves that roped me in, and appearance played a small part in that. Curves were so much more of a turn on than a slender rail who had nothing to hold onto. A woman who wasn't afraid to eat and then play to work the calories off did it for me. And a sharp mind was as sexy as killer legs.

Attraction be damned, those were the kind of women I stayed clear from. A matter of survival. And all those traits Lily seemed to possess. Yet here I was, playing with temptation.

Now that I was up close, I read the phrase on her T-shirt. _I'm not Irish, but you can kiss me anyway_. Hm. In time. I dipped my head, indicating her shirt. "Is that an invitation?"

She set her pint down, keeping her long fingers on the glass, and drew a deep breath. "How do you know Aiden?"

Was she trying to get details from me or assessing whether I was safe to concede? Didn't matter. "He's my older brother."

She glanced at Aiden, still standing behind the bar, as if to ask, _Is this guy legit?_

Aiden's gaze slid to me and back to Lily. He nodded, smiling as if reassuring her. Who knew my big brother could be a decent wingman? Aiden hadn't dated since he'd met his wife, who had died delivering Liam--her death a result of the O'Leary curse, Dad said. Our age gap had desisted us hanging out in the same circles until I'd graduated college. Either way, whatever Aiden's connection to Lily was, it wasn't sexual.

"You are quite the vision, Lily." I liked the way her name sounded when I said it. And she was quite lovely. Pale skin, dark hair, long lashes. And her eyes? I couldn't wait to see them clouded with lust as I drove into her. In this light, her hair had the slightest hint of reddish highlights and would look perfect wrapped around my hand.

"Thank you." Smile. "You're not hard on the eyes either, Declan."

I groaned. It couldn't be helped. The way she said my name had me past half-mast. She had a soft tone that drifted like smoke and clung to everything within range.

I raked my gaze over her, loving her hourglass shape. She either had great genes or worked out regularly. Her hottest asset wasn't her rack or her legs, though. It was her understated self-assurance. She didn't flaunt her intelligence or shy from a compliment. And her sense of humor? Needless to say I had to adjust myself on the stool.

Impatient, I dialed my voice to hoarse. "Would you like you take this conversation to a more private venue? My apartment, for instance?" My fingers clenched my glass again. I never took women to my place. It was theirs or a hotel. I didn't like the invasion of privacy or the possibility of one of my lovers going stalker. It hadn't happened, but call me paranoid.

And without hesitation, I'd invited her as if I hadn't set that rule for a reason. By the look on her face, she was considering.

Her gaze skimmed the tats on my right arm that disappeared under my white tee--a sleeve of writing in Gaelic. "I don't date men with tattoos." She said it without any criticism or condemnation, as if she was testing me, not being judgmental.

A rough laugh dragged from my throat. Remembering the shamrock tattoo on her nape, I lifted my hand and skimmed my fingers over her neck. A caress. Light. Sensual. "Said the woman with her own ink." I ran my fingertips in a slow circle, teasing her hair and eliciting a shiver from her. "And, _a mo rún_ , I never said anything about dating."

I dropped my hand and she sucked in a breath, pink tingeing her cheeks. I swallowed another groan at her responsiveness.

Aiden stepped away to take care of a customer. I waited until he was out of hearing range, then asked, "How do you know my brother?" I knew Liam's teachers and babysitters, and she wasn't one of them. Aiden didn't get out much. He lived at the bar, and I would've recognized if she was a regular, so I was more than curious.

"We..." She brushed away a strand of hair from her face and gave a slight shake of her head, as if deciding not to divulge the information after all. "I've known him a couple years. We're friendly acquaintances."

I nodded like that was enough for me, which it wasn't. "Have you slept with him?" I was pretty certain she hadn't, since Aiden didn't date or screw. I didn't share and, despite wanting her more than was wise, I'd slam the brakes right now if she'd been with Aiden.

Her gaze whipped to mine, wide. Appalled. "No."

I nodded again. "Are you married?" She didn't wear a ring.

She shook her head, and I was nearing the end of my rope. For seven months she'd been in my head, one way or another. I wanted her under me, on top of me, bent over the nearest hard surface.

"Then there's nothing stopping us, _a mo rún._ " The huskiness in my tone wasn't deliberate, but my cock twitched against my zipper as her pupils dilated.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. "What does that phrase mean? You keep using it."

I knew I had her. Instinct and her signals told me. It was all I could do not to stroke myself through my jeans. I leaned close to whisper in her ear, making sure my lips caressed the shell. "It's Gaelic and means my secret."

She shivered and I smiled in satisfaction. We were gonna be so fucking good. I nuzzled my nose against the soft spot behind her ear, breathing in her light perfume, before easing away. She looked at me through heavy lids, her lips parted with shallow breaths.

_Fuck, yes_.

I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting my touch linger on her cheek. "Hand me your phone."

A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. "What?"

"Your phone. May I see it?"

She blinked and reached for her purse on the bar, pulling out her cell and handing it to me. She seemed more than a little confused and too turned on to realize what she was doing.

I swiped the screen and sent myself a text. I wasn't taking any chances in not getting her contact info. I tapped into her settings and spoke as my thumbs went to work. "I get regular health exams, never have sex without a condom, and I've never been arrested. Talk to Aiden. He'll tell you you're safe with me." Finished, I gave her back the phone and retrieved mine from my pocket, thumbing a text. "I put my address and phone number in your contacts."

Her gaze jerked to her cell as it pinged.

Her text to me, which I'd sent, said: _Hello, Declan. I want you._

My response: _Hello, a mo rún. You have me._

Slowly, her cautious gaze slid to mine. Held. In the span of seconds, we stared at one another, her pulse beating hard in her neck and my heart thumping against my ribs. Anticipation coiled in my gut, tightened the base of my spine.

After an appropriate amount of time, I smiled. "I'm going to head back to my place now. Talk to Aiden. Come to me afterward. I'll be waiting for you."

It was a gamble, walking away from her. But this time, I had a name and a number. If she decided not to meet me tonight, I'd keep at her until I changed her mind. This was going to happen. She wanted me. I wanted her.

Heading to the table, I grabbed my coat, said goodnight to the guys, and walked back to the bar while shrugging into my jacket. One hand on the counter, the other on the back of her stool, I brought my face to hers until we shared the same air. My lips feathered hers. "I'll. Be. Waiting."

### Day Two

I stood at the wall of windows in my apartment two hours later, staring off into the distance at the Eads Bridge and Mississippi River. The night was clear, stars winking against the inky blackness. Lights from other buildings flickered. Cars passed. Still, I stood, calm everywhere but inside me.

It was past midnight and she hadn't showed. Disappointment flooded me, made me ache. And I was more than a little shaken it wasn't just a physical tug I felt toward her. Her mind was fascinating, at least what I'd gathered from our short conversation. I found myself wanting to know more about her. What she did for a living. If she had any family.

Sighing, I slammed the last of my whiskey neat and headed toward the kitchen. The drink hadn't soothed my tension. I'd given more than ample time for her to come to me. Though I wasn't tired, it was best I head to bed. In the morning, I'd call Aiden and find out what he knew about her. Maybe drop her a text to remind her I was around.

Desperate, much?

I rinsed my glass in the sink when the ding from the elevator alerted me someone was on their way up. The only one with a key was Aiden and he'd still be at the pub. I'd told the doorman it would be okay to let Lily up, if she showed.

Heart hammering, I jerked my head around. The lights above my entrance indicated the car would stop in seconds. Frozen, my gaze riveted to the elevator doors, I waited.

_Ding. Swoosh_.

Aiden stepped into my apartment with...Lily behind him. My gaze went right past my brother and latched onto her like a man starving. The familiar punch to the gut at seeing her nearly knocked me back a step. She offered me a weak smile and looked around, while I breathed for the first time in what seemed like minutes.

Aiden squeezed her shoulder. "You all set?"

She nodded, her smile encouraging. "Thank you."

"Anytime. Why don't you head inside? I need to talk to Declan before I head out." Aiden waited until she'd walked deeper into my apartment before turning to me. "She wanted me to bring her," he said in a quiet tone. "I had to wait until another bartender could fill in before leaving."

I nodded, respecting her caution. After all, she barely knew me.

"Listen." Aiden stepped closer and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "I don't get involved in your affairs. If you want to start something with her, that's fine. None of my business. But you can't fall for her. Hear me? You have to keep her away from the curse. I like her. She's a nice--"

"I got it." It wasn't as if I didn't know the consequences of falling in love, hadn't had it rammed into my skull from birth. It was exactly why I lived my life the way I did. No strings, no commitments. Part of me often questioned whether our family's bad luck was mostly hysteria, the belief in the supposed curse so strong it gave it validation. But the facts made that argument null. History was proof. "You know me. I don't get attached."

Aiden studied me a long minute, his gray-blue eyes weary. "All right." He shoved off the counter and wrapped me in a brief hug, slapping my back as he pulled away. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

After Aiden left, I turned toward the living room. Across the space of my vast apartment, she stood by the bank of windows in the same spot I'd vacated a few minutes before. Her back to me, she faced the view, still in her blue raincoat, purse clutched in her hands by her chest. I shook my head, wondering why she looked so right standing there. She'd never been here before. I'd never had a woman here that wasn't family. Yet, there was my mystery woman, looking like she was home.

I cleared my throat. "Would you like something to drink?" I moved around the open kitchen and into the living room, keeping distance between us.

She turned her head. "No, thank you. You have an amazing place. It's so big. I love the view."

I glanced around, trying to see it from her perspective. Because the windows let in a lot of light, I'd been able to paint the walls a dark green. My leather sectional was navy, my tables black walnut. The pine hardwood floors ran throughout the apartment, including the three bedrooms, except in the kitchen where I had earth-tone granite. My cabinets were white, the countertop marble. The art on my walls was mainly enlarged photographs from my visits to Ireland.

"It's home." I shrugged.

"Do you rent or own?"

"Own. Since I graduated college. The top five floors are privately owned. The rest of the building is rental units." We O'Learys weren't rolling in pots of gold, but we were comfortable. We were good with our money. Our women, not so much.

"That explains why Aiden needed a key for the elevator."

I nodded. "Can I take your coat?"

"Oh." She breathed a laugh that had me closing my eyes to savor the sound. "Yes." She slipped out of the jacket and passed it to me.

I was tempted to hang it in the hall closet, but strangely didn't want to move that far from her, so I set it on the coffee table. She placed her purse on top and stared at it, her expression unreadable. I wanted to touch her so badly my hands flexed.

"I didn't think you were going to come."

She smiled, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes, and met my gaze. "Honestly, I wasn't sure I would either. I don't typically do this kind of thing."

If that was true, and I had no doubt it was, then talking out her anxiety might be a good move. "Don't do what sort of thing?"

Her eyebrows quirked, her expression pure _duh_. "Go home with strange men. Have one night stands."

Her straight-forwardness made me realize she wasn't anxious or nervous, just out of her element. I gestured to the sofa and took a seat a foot away to give her time to adjust.

"I'm not strange," I said to lighten the mood, and her grin had me biting back a groan. Christ. I don't think I've ever desired a woman the way I did her. "What made you decide to come then?" Not that I was sorry she had, but everything about her had me curious, wanting to probe into that beautiful head of hers. Such an enigma.

Taking a deep breath as if to fortify herself, she lowered her lashes. "About ten months ago, I...decided to take more chances. Not play things so safe. Live a little."

"What sparked the change?" She didn't strike me as the type to not go after what she wanted or someone who played it too close to the vest. She wasn't pushy, but she was direct. Just how had she thought she wasn't living?

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then pressed her lips into a line and shook her head once. Her striking blue eyes glanced away, more than a trace of grief in them.

Okay, so that wasn't up for discussion. Disappointment shoved around in my chest, but I couldn't blame her. I was shocked at how badly I wanted to know. Veering around the why, I focused on the how. "What sorts of things do you want to try with regards to your change? I'm assuming sex has something to do with it, since you're here."

Her head tilted, and I fought a grin. She could go from aloof to hot to adorable faster than a downshift of my Mustang. She lifted her hand and dropped it back in her lap. "Sex has been unsatisfactory."

Not for long, but I kept mum on that. I propped my elbow on the back of the couch and rested my head in my hand. "Have you had a lot of partners?" I should really stop with the talk and get right to the action. Her backstory and reasons shouldn't matter. I should rock her world and send her on her way.

Her gaze direct, she shrugged. "Enough, sure. I'm just not very good at being assertive when it comes to the bedroom. I've only slept with men who I've been in a relationship with and they've controlled the act."

I was incredibly turned on she wasn't afraid to be honest, that she could look me in the eye and state her issue. No looking away or shyness. "Sex isn't about control, unless you're in a dom/sub situation, which I'm not into. I prefer my lovers to give and take." Though, truly, I'd been with all types. A lot of my encounters had let me do all the work. I was good with that, just not all the time. There was nothing sexier than being fucked by a woman, and I was man enough to admit it.

"I'm not a prude or anything. I just want to try something besides...missionary."

Christ. I could show her all kinds of positions. A dozen ran through my mind right now. "First, I never said you were a prude." The fact she was here and having this conversation proved that. "Second, are you telling me you've not made love other than in missionary?" Because, hell. Ten more positions popped in my filthy, filthy mind.

Her blue gaze studied me. "Not really, no. I..."

I gave her a second, but she didn't finish the thought. "What happens when you're with a guy? Do you freeze up?"

She sighed. "Not at all. I enjoy sex. I don't always get off, though." She paused and looked at me, really looked, as if trying to phrase her words just right. "I want to experiment a little. I want to be..."

Ah ha. And there we have it. She wasn't apprehensive or shy about sex. She just didn't know how to ask for what she wanted. Her experiences had been boring as shit and unsatisfactory for that reason, coupled with the fact her lovers had sucked. So, she'd settled for tedium. Until, for whatever reason, she decided to change that. Go after a better O and came to me.

My cock stirred from half-mast to want-her-now. "You want to fuck and be fucked in return."

Her cheeks went crimson, but her eyes never left mine. Her lips parted, breaths shallow. "Yes," she whispered. When her gaze dipped, exploring my body, I groaned. Heat fanned my skin as if she'd touched me. She bit her lower lip, gaze halting over my fly.

That's right. Look at what you do to me.

"What you're referring to would take more than a night. You're not going to be comfortable using assertion after a few hours. I'm good, but I'm not that good. There's only so many hours in one night." I'd put them to good use. But come tomorrow morning, she'd be gone and seeking new ventures with different potentials. The thought sent a tendril of unease through me. She was no virgin and gave off every indication she could take care of herself, but not every guy handled his lovers with respect like I did. The thought of someone hurting her made my jaw clench. Hard. And yeah, I didn't want anyone else touching her. Which was a problem. "Stay the week with me."

Fuck. That _was_ my voice and those words _had_ just left my mouth. Fuck again.

Her head reared, blue eyes wide. She licked her lips, and the image of that mouth wrapped around my cock had me stroking myself through my jeans for relief. And, suddenly, I didn't care that she was in my apartment where no other woman had been. Didn't care that I'd just offered to keep her here for a week, which was exactly six days longer than I'd ever promised another.

I was so screwed.

Lifting my hand, I traced a finger along her collarbone over the edge of her shirt. "Look at it this way. You can experiment in being open with no risks. Relationships aren't my bag. I don't date. One week. I'll get what I want and give you what you need, so when you get involved with your next boyfriend, you'll be less concerned about taking initiative. We'll count tonight, or last night, as day one."

Grabbing my hand, she stilled my movement. "Are you sure about this?"

No. But I wanted her, and one night would never be enough. "Positive." I kissed her fingers and set her hand down on my lap. "I have rules, though."

A sexy as hell slow grin curved her mouth. "Is this the part where you tell me your tastes are very singular and you slide a contract in front of me? Unlock your red room?"

My breath caught and my cock jerked. The woman had read _Wuthering Heights_ and _Fifty Shades_. What an interesting conundrum she was. Swear to God, if she started quoting _Lord of the Rings_ , I'd come right in my jeans. "I told you I'm not into BDSM. The occasional hand restraints are fine, but that's where my interest ends."

"Okay." Grin remaining, she blinked. "What are these rules?"

"First, honesty at all times. If you don't like something, if I get too rough or not rough enough, or if you want to try something, you tell me. No matter what."

Mirroring my pose, she set her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her head in her hand. "Agree."

"Second, condoms are non-negotiable. I don't fuck without them."

She nodded. "Agree."

"Third, and lastly, no falling for each other. I'm dead serious on the no relationship thing."

Her eyebrows lifted in amusement. "Agree. That's all?"

I wondered just what she thought my rules were going to be, but she agreed quickly, so I nodded.

"I have two rules to add to the...verbal contract."

I fought a grin. Damn. She was something. "Shoot."

She held up a finger. "You don't date, so having a lover suddenly underfoot will be an adjustment for you. I want you to tell me if it's too much. I can sleep on the couch or at my place if that happens. We can still hook up, minus the roomies." Up came another finger. "And when this week is over, no awkwardness. Aiden is my friend and your brother. It's likely we'll run into each other again."

She just might be the perfect woman. "Agree and agree." My gaze roamed over her slender, curvy body. "We done talking?"

"Yes." Her smile was a cross between endearing and naughty.

"Good. Come closer."

Scooting over, her hip met mine. "Better?"

As an answer, I cupped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to mine. Impact. There's always that moment of anticipation when kissing a woman for the first time. Part heart tripping, part tightening in the gut. How a woman kissed said a lot about her. More than sex, kissing was an intimate act. It told a story.

My lips brushed hers, testing, cajoling. A sigh fluttered from her and I dipped my tongue in to taste her. Dark ale and a trace of mint. Jaw wide, she stroked my tongue with hers, no retreating, no tease. She went right after me. Long, languid caresses that were neither pushy nor aggressive. Lily's kiss was a mirror to what I knew about her personality thus far. She was careful, but willing. Sensual and sweet. She liked exploring versus rushing.

What I'd planned to be a slow seduction--we had time, after all--quickly morphed into a devouring. Warm, wet, her lips sealed around mine, closing the gap and upping the game. I threaded my fingers in her hair and the scent of her light perfume swirled around me. Like her, the fragrance was warm and inviting. A mix of musk and something fruity, like an aged sweet lambrusco wine.

I eased back to whisper against her lips. "What do you want?"

Her hooded gaze locked onto mine. It reminded me of blue ice melting in a tumbler. "You."

I groaned. I ached. "How do you want me? Tell me." This was about her, but I couldn't wait much longer. Months of curiosity and insane interest were coming to a head. We could do more discovery later, learn one another better after the first taking was out of the way. "Better yet, show me."

A slight hesitation, then her leg slid over mine and she straddled me. My hands immediately went to her hips and I thrust against her through our clothes. They needed to go. A strangled cry parted her red lips and she cupped my jaw, closing in for another kiss.

Before we both lost our fucking minds entirely, keeping her mouth fused to mine, I lifted my hips and withdrew my wallet from my back pocket. Fumbling by touch alone, I located the condom, tossed it next to us on the cushion, and threw my wallet on the floor.

Her fingers raked down my chest, nails dipping into the indentations of muscle, before she stopped at the hem of my shirt.

"Do it," I encouraged.

She shoved the material up and over my head, then skimmed her heated gaze over me, stopping at my tattoo sleeve. Tracing the letters with her fingers, she licked her lips. "I'm assuming this is Gaelic. What does it say?"

No one had ever asked me that before. Most women saw the foreign language and handwritten scrawl, nothing more. I don't know why, but uneasiness ratcheted in my chest. The tat was something I'd done for myself, not for anyone else, but would she think me a sap?

Clearing my throat, I recited the poem from memory. _"When you are old and grey and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep. How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true, but one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face, and bending down beside the glowing bars..."_

She recited the last part with me. _"Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled and paced upon the mountains overhead, and hid his face amid a crowd of stars."_ Swallowing, her gaze met mine. "You tattooed a Yeats poem on your arm?"

I couldn't read her right now, and it was pissing me off. I don't think I'd ever felt more vulnerable in my life than I did in this moment, and I had no fucking clue why. Added to that, the fact she knew the sonnet enough to quote with me had to be one of the sexiest things I'd ever encountered. "He was a great Irish poet, what can I say?"

She nodded slowly, gaze distant. _"Oui, il était un brillant poète. Et vous me surprenez, mon secret."_

About the only word in there I understood was _oui_ , meaning yes. Christ. She needed to speak French while I was driving into her. It just became a new fantasy. "What does that translate to?"

"Yes, he was a brilliant poet. And you surprise me, my secret."

I sucked in a lungful of air, my cock so hard it was bound to bust my zipper. I don't know what had come over me, calling her my secret, but to have her use it in return was...fuck. I didn't know what.

"Do you speak fluent Gaelic?"

I shook my head. "Enough phrases to get by. You seem pretty good with French."

She nodded. "It was my elective in high school, and I kept learning from there."

Brains were hot. Grabbing her by the hips, I lifted her off my lap and set her on the floor. I had both of us stripped bare, condom in place, and her straddling my thighs before she even knew what hit her.

The sight of her stalled my lungs. Pale, creamy skin. Rosy pink nipples budded to hard points on the most amazing breasts, too full for a handful. Flat stomach, narrow waist, and hips that flared in a perfect hourglass. A small triangle of dark hair covered her mound, but she was bare below it.

"You're beautiful, Lily." Leaning forward, I feathered my lips across her neck, her throat. "Tell me something else in French. I don't care what." My hand closed around one breast, kneading, while the other held her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Breathing ragged, she gripped my shoulders. " _Qui se sentent si bon._ That feels so good." A delicious little humming noise escaped her throat. "Don't stop."

I almost laughed. "Not a chance." Sliding my hand from her hip to her inner thigh, I grazed my knuckles over her center and she shivered. Hell, I goddamn loved her responsiveness. "Keep going, _a mo rún_. Tell me what you want. In French."

With a mewl of frustration, she jerked her hips. " _Touchez moi_. Touch me."

"With pleasure." Mouth clamped on the tendon in her neck, I spread her folds and groaned. "So fucking wet." My cock twitched. My balls pulled taut. I inserted a finger into her heat and she clenched around it, drawing another moan from me. I added a second. She was tight, but she could take me. I wouldn't have to be gentle when I thrust. Which was going to be soon or I thought I might expire. I pressed my palm to her clit, circling, while I curled my fingers inside her.

She tipped her head back, a strangled cry filling the room. " _Oui. Maintenant. Je te veux maintenant._ Yes. Now. I want you now--"

No translation needed. I gripped her hips, and she rose on her knees to assist. Aligning myself to her entrance, I guided her onto my shaft. She sank slowly, and though a bead of perspiration trailed down my temple and it nearly killed me, I let her set the pace. Tight, wet heat enveloped me. I threw my head back on the couch, watching her take me, while my hands clenched her thighs.

When I was fully rooted inside her, I hissed through my teeth. So...fucking...good.

She held my jaw in both hands, eyes wide. Surprise and revelation shone in all that blue, as if she was feeling the cataclysm, too. Dropping her forehead to mine, she rocked her hips.

A roar ripped from deep in my throat and I lunged forward, sucking her breast into my mouth to tame the sound. I pressed my palms to her back, adoring the smooth skin and delicate muscle shifting underneath. She wrapped her arms around my head, holding me to her. Swirling my tongue around the rosy pink areola, I rubbed her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger and thrust. She rolled her hips and I came undone.

Christ. I'd never been this desperate. I couldn't hold a lucid thought, pin down a thread of sanity. I was barely keeping my release in check.

Slumping onto the cushion, I eased out of her as much as the position allowed and, with my hands holding her hips and her fingers clenched around my forearms, I thrust into her as I brought her down. Our bodies slapped in the silent room. Our haggard breaths joined the fray. Her breasts bounced as she rode me and I didn't know where to look first. She was a goddamn vision. Flushed skin. Red, swollen lips parted in pleasure. Hooded blue eyes lost in the moment.

My gaze dropped to where we were joined, my cock slick from her as it pumped. "So...beautiful... _a mo rún."_ The base of my spine tingled, the sensation dancing up my back. My balls grew heavy, tight, and I knew I was too close. I brought my thumb over her clit, pressing, circling. "Come, Lily," I ordered, my voice hoarse.

She bit her lower lip, eyes closed in pleasure. "Almost there," she whispered, breathless.

I shifted my hips the slightest bit and grabbed her ass, spreading the cheeks. Increasing my thrusts, I urged her down to my chest so my pelvis could hit her in the right spot. She slid her arms between my back and the cushion, grinding down as I drove up, completely in sync as if we'd done this a million times.

The roll of her hips became more frantic and her inner walls fisted me in a vise. She tensed above me, pressing her face into my neck. Her cry of release was muffled by my skin, but mine tore through the room as I pumped, stilled, and pumped twice more. Bowing against her, I shook as I emptied into the condom.

She went limp on top of me, face still buried, breath hot and ragged. I could do little more than thread my fingers in her hair and struggle for air. Sweet Christ.

After a moment or fifty, she lifted her head to sleepily smile down at me.

Grinning back, I tucked her hair behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

### Day Three

After crashing hard, we slept in late on Sunday. At least, I had. I awoke to cool sheets on her side of my bed and was shocked at the trip of worry in my chest. I found her fully dressed in the outfit from the day before, standing in front of my living room windows.

She turned. "Regrets?"

Strangely, my only regret had been not waking up beside her. I'd shaken my head as answer, she'd mumbled something about needing to get some of her clothes, and off to her apartment we went.

She lived in an older part of the city in a complex dating back to the turn of the century. Once inside, I casually glanced around. Her carpet was threadbare, but unstained. She had a few chairs, no couch, and a thirty-inch flat screen. And books. Tons of books. Wall to wall bookshelves encased the living room. Plants and glass bottles decorated the small space between the ceiling and the top shelves. The place was cozy, inviting.

"Like to read, do you?" My grin slowly fell when my gaze landed on her.

She bit her lip as if...nervous. "I want to answer you, but I feel you'll look differently at me. You'll think I'm boring."

I was pretty sure she could tell me anything and boring would never enter into my thoughts. "Try me."

She crossed her arms and looked at her feet. "I'm a...librarian. That's what I do for a living." Her face twisted into a please-don't-laugh-at-me expression as she peered up at me through thick lashes.

I stilled, every inch of me except my cock, which twitched to life behind my fly. My brows lifted so high I was sure they were near my hairline. "Two words, Lily. Librarian. Fantasy."

A laugh breathed out of her bow-shaped lips. "Oh, come on."

"Completely serious." My gaze took her in, as if looking at her for the first time. This explained how she knew the Yeats poem so well, and her eclectic taste in reading material. How oddly ironic we both made a living by words. "I'm a columnist for the St. Louis Post."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Really. Do you have a pair of reading glasses?"

"Uh..." Confusion marred her brow. "Yes."

I groaned. "Bring them along when you pack your bag."

She stalled for a beat, shook her head as if amused, and disappeared into a bedroom down the hall. Twenty minutes later, she reappeared, having changed into black leggings and a blue sweater under a leather jacket, and mentioned something about it being a nice day for a drive.

I shrugged. Late spring was hitting St. Louis, and though the temperatures fluctuated, today was nearly sixty and sunny. Buds were blooming on the trees and the grass was recovering from winter, almost an emerald green.

We made our way outside and she set her bag in my trunk. Then, she took my hand and led me to an underground parking structure, tearing the tarp off a...Harley.

My heart did some kind of twisty pounding thing inside my chest. I stared at the bike, not ashamed to admit I was turned on to the point of pain. "Yours?" Just when I thought I had a handle on her, she turned the page. A librarian who owned a motorcycle and fucked like a wet dream. Screwed didn't begin to cover the magnitude of what I was to become.

"Yes." She grinned, sending my heart into cardiac arrest. "Want to go for a ride?"

"Fuck, yes." As she pulled out two helmets, I stared at her. "I haven't been on one of these since college." A buddy of mine had owned one. I'd never had any inclination to buy a bike, though.

She handed me a helmet and put hers on. "Hold onto me and lean into turns. I got the rest." Straddling the bike, she turned the key and glanced over her shoulder at me. The roar of the engine bounced off the concrete structure.

Kicked into gear, I donned my helmet and climbed on behind her, cradling my inner thighs along the outside of hers, bringing my erection snug against her ass. Christ, did we fit. The vibration from her revving the engine only made me harder.

Without a word, she heeled the kickstand and tore out of the structure. She played it safe as she wound through the city and then really let go as we neared the state park. Wind whipped around us, her hair flying wild. I kept my hands on her hips the whole ride, wanting to explore her body as she drove but not wanting to distract her. After a couple of complicated turns through a thickly wooded area, she parked on what resembled a private trail and cut the engine.

I removed her helmet and mine, setting them to dangle on the handlebars, and breathed in pine. Birds called overhead and the scurry of squirrels crunched in the distance. I wrapped my arms around her from behind. She turned her head to meet my kiss. Effortless, as if knowing what I wanted without direction. Everything with her had been easy so far.

"Nice spot," I said casually, noting the seclusion. "Any reason in particular we're here?"

With her face so close to mine, it was simple to take in her reservation, but I gave her time. She wanted to learn to take initiative, and I was a patient guy. Dark navy flecks infused the cerulean in her irises as her long lashes blinked slowly.

After a few beats, she turned to face me, straddling me as I straddled the Harley, and brought the heat between her legs in direct contact with my straining cock. "I've always wanted to have sex on a motorcycle. I bought the bike a few months ago."

Another check on her things-she-wanted-to-do list. Again, I wondered what sparked the change. I pushed her dark hair away from her face and grinned. "I'm all yours."

She nudged my jacket off my shoulders and tossed it to the ground. Following her lead, I did the same with hers and groaned when she reached for the snap on my jeans. The teeth of the zipper sounded and I sprang free. Her warm, soft hands wrapped around me and I bucked into them. She used the perfect amount of pressure as she stroked me. When her thumb caressed my slit, I put my hand on her chest and eased her down to recline against the handlebars.

"I'm obviously ready for you, _a mo rún._ Are you ready for me?"

My gaze never leaving hers, I inched her leggings down her thighs, taking her panties along. Instead of stripping them off her, I left them around her ankles, lifted her legs, and brought them to either side of me, so she caged me in. Her ankles crossed low on my back.

Removing a condom from my wallet, I ripped it open with my teeth and rolled it down my length, all without taking my gaze from hers. Ensnared by her, my chest ached as I placed my palms on her belly under her sweater and splayed my fingers. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyelids lowering in lust.

Wanting to see her, I dropped my gaze to the small triangle of dark hair on her mound. I ran my hands up her thighs, parting her folds, and groaned louder than the rev of her Harley when she'd let it rip on the open road. Beautiful just didn't cover it. I hadn't had a chance to really look at her the night before. Her pink flesh was saturated for me, her clit swollen. I pressed my thumb to her hot little button and she arched her back, her breathing ragged. I wanted to taste her so bad, but I'd do that later. Tonight.

"You're more than ready for me. Look at you."

Seeing her spread out on her motorcycle, core inches from my shaft and teeth working her lower lip, had the blood in my veins streaming like lava. I wanted to stay in this moment an eternity, hovering in that fragile space between heaven and torment, anticipation tightening my balls.

She grabbed my thighs. "Take me. Please."

I sank a finger into her heat. "Take you where? Here?"

A mewl and she nudged my lower back with her feet. " _Oui_."

Done.

Fisting the base of my shaft in one hand, I slid the other under her ass to raise her pelvis to me. I filled her slowly, my gaze darting between where she stretched around me and her lust-lost eyes. When I was as deep as I could go given our position, I stilled. Hell, she felt so goddamn good it took too much restraint to keep it together. "How do you want to be fucked, _a mo rún?_ "

A cry whimpered in her throat. "Hard. Fast."

Done and done.

Hands on her hips, I dragged her off my cock until only the tip of me remained inside, and then pulled her back onto my shaft fast, hard. At her more intense cry, I put two of my fingers in her mouth to give her something to latch onto. We were alone, but there was no sense in drawing attention to what we were doing if anyone was close by. Her sound would carry. She sucked my fingers, swirling her tongue around the knuckles, and I pulsed inside her.

Rolling my hips, I retreated from her hot, tight sheath and pounded back inside. She bit my fingers as another holy-fuck sound moaned around my digits. Leaning slightly forward so I could hit her clit when I thrust, I repeated the motion, again and again, picking up speed and urgency. I grabbed the handlebars above her head with one hand for balance and momentum, sinking deeper. Her ragged breaths escaped between my fingers, her teeth clenching so hard I was sure she left permanent marks. My thrusts more animalistic than human, I drove inside her, sweat beading down my temple.

My balls grew taut, my spine stiff. Fuck. I kept my pace, but whispered a coarse order near ear. "Come, _a mo rún_. I'm so fucking close. You feel too fucking good. Come...hard...for...me...Lily." I punctuated each word with a fast thrust, dizzy with need.

"Declan..."

Hell. I loved the way she said my name.

Her back arched off the bike and she screamed. I had just enough wherewithal to clamp my hand over her mouth as she clenched around my shaft, jerking me to an explosion. Light danced behind my lids. Air trapped in my lungs. I buried my face in her soft sweater to contain my grunt as I finished. Shuddering, I cupped the back of her head and attempted to keep my weight off her while I regained a semblance of normal breathing.

Her fingers wove tenderly through my hair. I shuddered again at how thoroughly even the simple caress rocked me. From the inside out.

Lifting my head, I kissed my way up her jaw. "I will admit sex on a motorcycle is on my list of top choices now."

Her throaty laugh shook us both.

We cleaned up and redressed, then brought her bike back to her apartment and headed to my place. The rest of the day, I coaxed more fantasy ideas from her, adding in my own twist and promising her we'd get to them all.

After the supper rush, we headed to my favorite Italian restaurant for dinner. I preferred less crowds and she didn't seem to mind. After we ordered, we picked at our salads, the conversation never going stale as the scent of garlic and merlot swirled around us. The lighting was low and our table small, intimate. We discussed everything from politics to religion to sports, and though we didn't agree on a lot of the topics, there was respect in the light debate.

Wiping her mouth on a napkin, she leaned forward. "Okay, so I have a question. Not that it's any of my business, but why don't you date? To be honest, you're pretty good at it. Do you have a crazy ex-wife who milked you for every penny? Long lost love you're pining for?"

I smiled because it was rather difficult not to around her, even though my answer was sure to send her running. If I answered honestly, that is. Outside of the family, no one knew. Choosing my words carefully, I pushed my salad plate away. "I'm afraid it's a little stranger than that. I need to tell you a story."

Sipping her wine, she eyed me over the rim. "I like stories."

I laughed and wiped a hand down my face. "One hundred years ago, back in Ireland, my great-grandfather fell in love with a girl from a neighboring farm. She was promised to another, so they kept their love secret. For luck, she gave him a four leaf clover and told him to come to her the night before her wedding, and they'd run off together."

Her eyes narrowed. "This doesn't end well, does it?"

I sighed. "No. My great-grandfather got cold feet, ran late with his chores, and lost the clover. Ashamed, he didn't do as she asked, and she was forced to marry the guy she didn't want. On her wedding night, she snuck out to see my great-grandfather one last time, and told him since he threw her luck and love away, he and his ancestors were destined to never have either for as long as they lived. The only way to break the omen was to redeem themselves one day."

Her head tilted, lips twisting in thought. "Interesting. What does that have to do with you?"

The waitress arrived with our meals, chicken alfredo for Lily and lasagna for me. After the waitress left us alone, I lifted my gaze to Lily, wondering if she would think I was a whack if I finished the story. To anyone outside our family, it would seem crazy wrapped in more crazy. It also happened to be true. To my knowledge, not one O'Leary had ever told another soul about the curse.

I took a few bites of my meal, waiting for her to do the same, before I continued. "So, for the past hundred years, the men in my family have been cursed. We can't fall in love or something bad happens."

She appeared skeptical. "Like what?"

Hell, I was all in now. Why not? "Ever since the curse began, not one generation has had a female born. To add to that, every male who has fallen in love has lost them to divorce, illness, or death. Even as recent as my brother, Aiden. His wife died delivering Liam."

A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

I swallowed my bite of lasagna. "You don't believe me."

She pushed her food around her plate, appearing to choose her words. "I believe you believe it. Many cultures hold merit to curses, rituals, and spells. I just think your family is putting so much credence into this one incident that you're making the curse true, or at least twisting it to believability."

See, this was one of many reasons why she was so damn fascinating. Instead of outright thinking I'd gone over the cuckoo's nest, she took into account my heritage and the facts presented. "Part of me always felt that way, too. But it's hard to argue with history."

She nodded. "Why hasn't anyone tried to break the curse?"

I shrugged. "Many have. My grandfather married for convenience, swearing he never loved my grandmother. She died anyway. One of my uncles is gay. His lover emptied his bank account and fled. My mother lasted the longest. My father, before proposing to her, spent hours scouring fields for a four leaf clover to present to her, thinking he had to pick it himself. After months of searching, he found one. She died in a car accident a year after having me."

She set her wine aside, her lips pouting. "Has any woman tried to give one of your relatives a clover?"

"Not that I'm aware."

She set her chin in her hand. "It might make the difference. Just a thought, should you meet a woman one day who sweeps you off your feet." She grinned, the candlelight illuminating her warm, yielding eyes. "Regardless, I understand your hesitation. I think scorned by a lover is more romantic personally. Go Hemingway style next time you tell your tale."

I stilled, shaking my head. My chest swelled to capacity with some foreign sensation that both hurt and felt oddly good. I just didn't know what to make of her. Our conversations never lagged, we had obvious chemistry, she was sweet and sassy equally, her mind was sharp as a blade, and we shared similar interests. She wasn't just the perfect woman, as I'd thought earlier, but the perfect woman _for me_.

Fuck. I knew I should've left her on that park bench in my memory.

I nodded toward her plate. "Let's eat."

Another notch in her perfect column? She ate everything. No bitching about carbs or whatever. She ate and enjoyed the food. And I enjoyed her. Too much.

### Day Four

I awoke in the middle of the night to an empty bed. By the coolness of the sheets, Lily had been up awhile. She'd done this the night before as well, but I hadn't chased after her, figuring she'd wanted some privacy. Even when we fell asleep wrapped in each other, she was a restless sleeper. I wondered what haunted her. Sometimes, when she thought I wasn't watching, a lost, gutted expression filled her eyes that had my stomach bottoming out. Little did she know, I was always watching her.

Scratching the stubble on my jaw, I rolled to check the time, noting it was only two. I debated leaving the bed, but curiosity got to me. Shoving the covers aside, I padded barefoot down the hall, wearing nothing but my boxers.

I found her facing the bank of windows in the living room, a blanket wrapped around her. Moonlight lit her pale skin. The vastness of the city beyond made her seem fragile. Though she appeared lost in thought, the weight of the world sank her slender shoulders.

I rubbed the ache in my chest. "I guess two orgasms weren't enough to knock you out. I'll have to try harder." After dinner, we'd barely made it inside the apartment before I'd taken her on the kitchen counter and then again up against the wall in the hallway. We'd also watched a movie. I'd let her pick and had been pleased to learn she liked variety. Action, sci-fi, comedy. She was game.

She turned her head, offering a sweet, sad smile that had the ache in my chest spreading to my gut. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't." I stepped deeper into the room and eased behind her, resting my chin on her shoulder. "You have work tomorrow. You should come back to bed."

She hummed her agreement and leaned into me, gaze back on the city. "I don't sleep very well."

Skimming my lips over her neck, I said, "Are you uncomfortable here?" She always smelled so good. Her light perfume combined with her unique scent.

"No." She sighed, and even that sounded weary. "It's not you. I don't sleep well anywhere. Layover from my childhood, I suppose."

Icy tendrils of dread wove up my spine. I slid my arm around her belly, the other held her jaw, turning it toward me. I should've tugged the blanket off her and taken her up against the window, which had been one of the fantasies we'd worked out together. Instead, I said, "Explain," like I had any right to her life.

Her gaze swept my face, finally settling on my eyes. In the dark, her irises looked more like twilight than blue. She swallowed. "I grew up in foster care. Constantly moving around, I never got into a good sleep rhythm."

The breath stalled in my lungs. She had no family? Hell, fucked up as mine was, I didn't know what I'd do without them. A thousand questions pounded through my skull, never making it to my mouth. Because I wanted to know more, to hold her in my arms and coax the ghosts from her past, I did the only thing I could. I gave her my body instead.

Dipping my finger between her breasts, I yanked the blanket from her hold, finding her naked underneath. Christ, I loved her body. "I'll just have to find clever ways to wear you out. Any suggestions?" Cupping her breasts, I licked the pulse in her neck and groaned when it thumped wildly for me. Some of her earlier ideas swam through my mind, and I tried to fit one to this moment.

Arching into my touch, she moaned low in her throat. "Declan."

I growled. "Again." Stepping out of my boxers, I kicked them away and pressed my cock into the crease of her ass. "Say my name again. See what happens." A dare, one I hoped she'd take. I knew exactly which fantasy of hers I'd fulfill tonight. Sliding my hand down her belly, past her mound, I parted her folds. Fuck, I loved this about her, too. She was always so drenched, so ready for me.

She brought her arms up and fisted her hands in my hair, thrusting me deeper into her crevice. "Declan."

Checkmate. Grabbing her hips, I spun her around, bent her over the couch, and kicked her legs apart. I paused just before taking her, my body shaking with feral need. My cock pulsed in my hand as I stared at her wet folds, the delicate curve of her spine. This was one of her top choices. To be taken from behind, roughly.

"I'm on the pill. I'm safe, too." She turned her head to pin her wanton, needy gaze to mine. "Or go get a condom. Up to you."

Air rasped in my lungs. I'd never had sex without a condom, never intended to. And I was safe, as well. A strong part of me trusted her, was more intimate with her than anyone else. I wanted this so bad my balls pinched with a sharp pang. To claim her, no barriers, no walls, spoke to me as if an unforeseen force was driving me.

I looked from her eyes, to where we would join, and back to her eyes again. Her gaze pleaded, begged.

I thrust inside her, hard, deep, and clenched my jaw at the bombardment of sensory overload. She was so fucking tight in this position. Her cry of delight hit my ears. Her warm, giving flesh under my hands trembled in satisfaction. And her hot, wet sheath enveloping me without anything between us was the closest thing to heaven a guy like me would ever get.

Claim...her...

Wrapping her dark hair around my hand, I gently tugged her head back. Her palms met the cushion before her, the knuckles white. I withdrew and drove into her, our skin slapping.

She cried out, desperation leaking from the sound.

My chest heaving, I stopped, just to be sure. "Too hard?" She'd said she'd wanted this, and though she'd taken me before, I had to be certain our tolerance was on the same level. Rough wasn't typically my style, but when the mood called for it, I could go barbarian.

"No," she panted. "More. Please."

Fuck. Yes.

I ground against her perfect, round ass, moved inside her until my eyes rolled to the back of my skull. I pulled out, shoved back in. Repeat. She met me each time, pushing her hips back into my pelvis. Her supple walls wrapped around every rigid inch of my cock. _Yes, yes, yes_. Each thrust was delivered with more force. Her breasts swung over the couch. Her ass reddened as we slapped together. She made the most fucking unbelievably sexy sounds, muttering my name over and over.

When I was getting close, I brought my fingers to her swollen clit and pinched. That sent her spiraling into an orgasm. Her inner muscles closed around my shaft as she vibrated beneath me. I thrust twice more, air trapping painfully in my lungs as pleasure assaulted the rest of me. My release was so jarring, tears filled my eyes and my throat closed, blocking my roar of pleasure. Jaw wide, I emptied inside her.

When my lungs worked again, I leaned over her, curving my body around hers. "You undo me, _mo milis_." My sweet.

Too satisfied and happy to care that I'd shifted endearments, I carried her to bed, tucked us in, and pulled her back flush with my chest. After she drifted to sleep, I buried my face in her hair and closed my eyes.

The next morning, when sunlight through the blinds woke me, I was alone again. Rolling to my back, my gaze automatically landed on her clothes hanging on my closet door and her bag on a corner chair. She hadn't left me. She'd just gone to work.

My heart rate calming, I blew out a stream of air and scrubbed my hands over my face. I was getting in too deep if Lily being gone brought a surge of panic. I couldn't keep her. I knew that. I'd always known forever wasn't an option, not with anyone.

Climbing out of bed, I relieved myself in the bathroom, avoided my reflection, and strode into the kitchen. Next to the coffeepot was a folded piece of pink paper. It did not make me stupidly happy to see she'd left me a note. Okay, it did.

So screwed.

I snatched the paper and opened it.

I made coffee. I'm going to swing by my apartment after work to get my car. I should be back by six. I can pick up dinner, if you like. Text me with requests. I had fun this weekend. xoxo

My gaze locked onto the Xs and Os scrawled in her neat, willowy writing. Hugs and kisses. A simple inflection. Nothing to indicate she'd gotten attached.

My hands itched to text her. I ignored them.

I read the note twice more, the fucking pathetic sap I was, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I drank it in front of the windows, the very spot in my apartment that seemed to be her favorite, and rinsed the carafe out when I was done.

Still didn't text her. Progress.

Taking the note, I tossed it in my nightstand drawer and stepped into a pair of nylon shorts. I needed a good workout to expel her from my mind. This wasn't healthy, her constantly being in my head. Under my skin.

I headed into the spare bedroom I'd turned into a home office and booted the computer. I'd turned in a few articles at the Post, but checked to make sure my editor hadn't emailed with revisions. He hadn't, which was disappointing because that would've at least kept me occupied.

I looked at my phone, scowled, and didn't text. Go me.

Task complete, I made my way to the other spare room to pound out my frustration the old fashioned way. Scrolling through my playlist, I set my iPod station to hard rock and started on the treadmill. By the time I'd completed three miles, I was drenched in sweat and it had very little to do with the workout. The entire trek, I'd envisioned all the things I wanted to do to her when she got home from work.

_Home._ This wasn't her home. She was temporary, the situation a fleeting blip in my life.

Christ. I wiped my face with a towel and moved on to the rowing machine, then lifted weights. Muscles tense and strained, I headed toward a shower. I knew I'd overdone the workout when it hurt to turn the water on.

Letting steam fill my bathroom, I shifted to drop my shorts and froze. On the gray marble vanity, next to a small bamboo plant, was Lily's toothbrush. Next to that, her cosmetic bag. She'd cleaned up after herself, had put her things in a tidy pile off to the side, but she was in here. In my space. The room still smelled like her shampoo from her shower this morning.

I got a rare sense of what it was like to live with another person, and I was shocked at how much it didn't scare me. I had no idea if that was because of Lily or the deep-rooted part of me that wanted things I couldn't have. I liked women, but there was something uniquely satisfying about belonging to someone. One person to share everything with. Years ago, I'd shut down that desire. A few days with her and it all came flooding to the surface.

Closing my eyes, I placed my hands on the counter and leaned into them. I took a few calming breaths, but anxiety coiled in my gut and tension tightened my chest. Every male in my family had tried and failed to defy the curse. One hundred years, nothing but loss and regret. I couldn't do that to Lily. I needed to get a hold of myself.

Pushing off the vanity, I popped a few ibuprofen, and turned to the shower. Behind the sheer bamboo-printed curtain, her shampoo bottle sat next to mine.

No...fucking...escape.

And I didn't _want one_...

Two hours later I sat in my living room, holding my phone in my hand, still debating my text. She'd asked me to give her dinner ideas, not send her sonnets. Yet here I sat, inactive.

Fuck it. I shot off the text.

Me: _Can I have you for dinner?_

There. That summed up our relationship, at least the part I was supposed to be focusing on.

Lily: _You can have me for dessert. What about Greek for dinner? Or Chinese?_

Christ in heaven. Did the woman have a flaw?

Me: _I'd rather skip to dessert_.

Lily: _I can do impressive things with an egg roll and my mouth_...

I sucked a harsh inhale through my nose and stroked myself. Like a teenager. I was goddamn hard from sexting.

Me: _Chinese it is. See you soon_.

Turned out, she wasn't kidding about the egg roll thing. At six-fifteen, she exited the elevator and we ate on the couch facing each other. And she did have a flaw. She didn't like shrimp. I was grasping at straws with that, but whatever. We had something of a food fight when I tried to feed her a bite of shrimp rangoon, and she wrapped her full lips around an egg roll in response. And moaned. Then she went to work eating the thing like she was giving head. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

As we were cleaning up, she noticed something was wrong when I winced. My ibuprofen was wearing off, but I thought I'd hidden my discomfort well. Except nothing escaped Lily. Her baby blues seemed to see everything. I don't think I'd ever had someone in my life as perceptive as her.

"I'm fine. I just overdid it in the gym today." _Trying to forget about you_.

A frown of worry wrinkled her forehead. She took my hand. "Come on."

Down the hall we went, to my bathroom, where she ran the bath. I eyed her as she began to strip out of her clothes. I lifted my brows. "You promised dessert."

She threw her head back and laughed. Christ, she had the best laugh. "How about a massage? A good soak will loosen your muscles. Dessert after."

This felt oddly like she was trying to take care of me. And I liked it. So I stayed dressed by the side of the tub while she slipped into the water.

"Did I forget to say full body massage?"

I groaned. Hell, I was already toast where she was concerned. Stripping, I sank in the hot water in front of her, the square-shaped tub accommodating us both, and shut off the faucet.

Wrapping her long legs around me, she eased me back to recline on her chest. "Where does it hurt?"

I thought about saying everywhere, but couldn't get the words past my throat. We'd laughed and played during dinner, and now we were in the bath in a scene that bordered on romantic. I didn't do romance.

"Here?" she said in the silence, and started rubbing my shoulders.

Fuck, that felt good. I laid my head on her collarbone and closed my eyes. Her nimble little fingers kneaded my sore muscles in smooth, even strokes, never pressing too hard. Up my neck, down my shoulders. She worked her way across my back, her hands sliding between our bodies. I couldn't move. My tension released degree by degree, until I felt like I could sleep for a week.

After awhile, she moved from behind me to straddle my hips, massaging my pecs and abdomen. Lazily, I blinked at her and offered a half-grin. She kneeled between my legs and stroked my thighs, which got my cock interested in her proximity, but her fingers headed south to my calves, then my feet. Hell, she even did my arches.

My voice a coarse rasp, I said, "You can stop doing that in about ten years." A beat of silence passed and I realized what I'd said. We didn't have but three days left, two nights. Years wasn't an option when our time boiled down to hours.

"You feel more relaxed," she said, as if I hadn't spoken. "One muscle is still pretty hard, though." Her fingers wrapped around my cock and I hissed.

God love her. "I don't think that'll go away anytime soon, _mo milis."_

Her thumb grazed my slit. "What does that phrase mean? You said it last night, too."

Balls aching, I thrust into her hands. "My sweet."

Her gaze went tender, her smile soft. My chest started to throb behind my ribs in tune with my cock, but more insistent. I held my breath, realizing she wasn't immune to the slight shift in us either. Perhaps this wasn't all on me. Which only made things worse.

"Well," she said, dipping her head. She licked around the crown of my shaft. "This is dessert, after all. It should be sweet." Her tongue darted out again, repeating the same path with more pressure.

"Fuck me, _mo milis."_ I fisted my hands in her hair and gave it everything I had not to thrust into her mouth. "Christ, Lily." From day one, I'd envisioned her lips around me, we just never got there, too insistent, too wrapped up in having each other. I still hadn't tasted her yet, made her come with my mouth, and hell if I was letting our time slip by without doing it.

But she said something in French and swallowed half of me in one fell swoop. The back of my head hit the tub and I forgot my name.

### Day Five

I awoke alone. Again. My gut sank. Logically, I knew Lily had to work and I was a late riser, not to mention a heavy sleeper, but I'd never get another opportunity to spend a morning waking up beside someone and I wanted to experience it. Just this one time.

Disappointed, I did my usual morning routine, checked my email, and headed into the kitchen. There was another pink note by the coffeepot, and I grinned like an idiot.

Hope you're feeling better today. I'm getting off work a little early. I can make dinner, if you like. Dessert for sure. I've developed a sweet tooth. See you soon. xoxo

Christ. I reread the thing a couple times, put in my nightstand with the other one, and worked out in the gym. The exercise did little to burn off my desire or ease the pressure in my chest. A ball of regret, chock full of what-ifs, had been lodged in my throat for days. I didn't know what to do, if anything. It sure felt like I was breaking my own self-imposed rule. The numero uno one. I should've known--hell, I _did_ know--I would fall for her, that we couldn't just be about physical release.

Today was my day to pick up my nephew, Liam, from school. His babysitter had off on Tuesdays and Aiden had the pub. Typically, Liam and I chilled out at Aiden's until he got home from Irish Eyes. We would do his homework, play a few video games, and battle to the death at checkers. But...Lily was a factor this week. I didn't want to bail on her, not with our time running out, but getting her involved with my family pushed the boundaries.

I spent half the day a mess, phone in hand, attempting to figure out what to tell Lily. In the end, I picked up Liam and brought him to my place, never contacting her.

In the elevator, I rubbed my hand over Liam's soft brown hair, mussing the strands. "This okay, pal? My house for dinner?"

He shrugged. "Sure. As long as you get me home by bedtime. I have an English test tomorrow."

I shook my head, sighing dramatically. "Dude, you're eight. Quit being a grown up."

The elevator doors pinged open and the scent of something spicy wafted from the kitchen. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Lily, back to me, cooking something on the stove. Christ in heaven, she was...it was...too _right_. My heart did some kind of stutter-step and headed toward cardiac arrest while the rest of me felt like I was coming out of a deep freeze.

Liam looked between me and her, confusion wrinkling his forehead. "Miss Lily?"

She shrieked, obviously not having heard us, and whirled. "Liam!"

My nephew walked right into her embrace as if they'd been cozy for years. "What are you doing here?"

Her flustered state lasted point five seconds before she waved her hand with a grin. "Making dinner. I didn't know you'd be here. Do you like enchiladas?"

"Heck, yeah." Liam turned toward me--I was still in some kind of shock and holding ground in the entryway--only to face Lily again. "Do you live here now?"

Forget cardiac arrest. I was in heart failure. Black dots swam before my eyes.

She laughed in that warm, husky way that filled a room. "Naw. I just hang out with your Uncle Declan sometimes. We're friends."

Friends. We so were _not_ that, or not only that. I blinked and seemed to recover. Somehow. "How do you two know each other?"

Lily wrapped an arm around Liam's shoulders, her smile genuine. "Liam used to be in the story hour group at the library. Now he's in our young adult book club. Aren't you? How far are you on Harry Potter?" She glanced at me. "They just started book one this week."

Liam bounced on his toes. "Harry just got to Hogwarts. You were right. It's better than the movie."

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Books are usually better than the film. They did a good job with the Potter movies, though."

My gaze darted back and forth like a ping pong ball. I scrubbed my shaking hands through my hair. "Hey, pal. Why don't you head into my office to start your homework? I'll be there in a sec." Why the hell couldn't I breathe?

"Sure." Liam gave Lily a fist bump and disappeared down the hall.

I stared after him, not sure what to do, to say. Lily obviously was on friendly terms with Aiden, but I had no clue she knew Liam. And so well. For years, it seemed.

Suddenly, this whole adventure with Lily ground to a halt. The repercussions hit me like a tsunami and pulled me under. Lily and I had agreed to no awkwardness after we were through, but that was before my... _feelings_ became involved. Before I had any idea Liam was a part of her world.

I closed my eyes and tried to pull air into my lungs. Futile.

"I-I'm so sorry." She stepped back, creating distance from me, and reached behind her back to untie her apron. _An apron_. Christ help me, even that was hot. "I had no idea he'd be here. I'll go."

In her note, she'd said she'd get off early and make dinner. I didn't realize she'd be home _this_ early, though. And it was my fault. I should have texted her instead of avoiding the situation like a pussy.

She started past me and I grabbed her arm.

"No, don't go. I..." Hell, what? "I have Liam on Tuesday nights. I should've told you."

Avoiding my gaze, she nodded quickly. "I understand. I'll see you later."

"Lily..." I backed her to the cabinets and caged her with my hands on either side of her on the counter. A swift glance over her shoulder told me Liam's eyes weren't on us. Placing my feet between hers, I leaned closer, every inch of me flush with every inch of her.

And _there_. There was my normal pulse rhythm and ability to breathe. The scent of her surrounded me, her warmth enveloping, and the restless energy and panic drained right out of me. She could turn my brain to pudding and my cock to lethal stiffness. She made me desperate and insane with lust. But she also calmed my soul, quieted the crazy.

I dropped my forehead to hers and worked a swallow. "Don't go, _mo milis._ " Brushing my lips across her cheek, down her jaw, I said what I'd never in my life said before. "Stay."

Her uneven exhale skated across my neck. "This isn't a good idea, Declan."

I kissed her in the soft spot behind her ear and closed my eyes. Two more nights and she'd be gone. "I know. Stay anyway." I cupped the back of her head and kissed her mouth gently. No passion, no heat, just a tenderness I didn't know I had in me. She brought that side of me to the surface, and I feared I'd never be able to shove it down when she left.

Wrapping her arms around my waist, she nodded. The concession came with a price. In her eyes, I found the same shattered reality and fruitless hope I'd been battling. No words needed to be said. We seemed to be able to read each other without speaking, a silent language all our own. Right then, holding her in my arms, I never hated my fucking circumstances more.

She was falling, too.

Real love couldn't possibly move at this kind of warp speed, could it? I'd never given much thought to love at first sight, but she had impacted me from the moment I'd set eyes on her all those months ago. But love? No. It never came into play until I got to know her. Having never been here before, I still wasn't sure if this was jacked up lust, infatuation, or the real deal.

I went to help Liam with his homework--I did not miss third grade long division in the slightest--and when we emerged from my office, she was curled up on the couch, reading _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

And fuck me dead. I fell the rest of the way. It felt a lot like going splat on the pavement after freefalling ten stories. If the sight of her reading one of my favorite books didn't do it, the way she was around Liam would have.

She kept the conversation going during dinner, encouraging my nephew with compliments and laughing at his jokes. She was cool under pressure. The woman was kind, funny, smart, sexy, and beautiful. Oh, and a good cook. The enchiladas were a fucking mouth orgasm. A part of me always figured once she lost her mysterious quality, once I really got to know her, the allure would wear off. That didn't happen. Not even a little. Lily only got more interesting the longer I was in her orbit.

"Yeah, but she doesn't like shrimp and her feet are always cold." So there. Flaws. She wasn't perfect. I'd discovered after sleeping together the past few nights, her feet were in a perpetual state of arctic. Didn't seem to matter how thick her socks were or how many blankets we piled on the bed. Hell. I didn't mind. I found even that adorable.

I looked up to find Liam and Lily's gaze on me. Twin sets of confusion.

I sighed, realizing I'd said my thoughts aloud. "Good cornbread, Lily."

I really needed to start emotionally backing off, but panic tore at my chest when the thought emerged. Only two more days. It didn't matter what my feelings were, I couldn't keep her. I would have to let her go. Why not enjoy the time we had left? I'd deal with the fallout later.

Before I took Liam home, I dragged Lily off to the side and gave her a quick kiss. "I'll be back late." I had to stay until close to eleven when Aiden's manager was good to bartend alone after the rush. "Please be wearing the apron when I get here. _Just the apron_."

Her sly, knowing grin was answer enough.

Truth be told, I'd loved my nephew to the moon and back from the first moment I set eyes on him in the hospital. But I'd never had a night drag through eternity like tonight. Worse was after Liam went to bed and I had to wait for Aiden to get home. After solitaire and being unable to find decent television programs, I texted Lily.

Me: _Whatcha wearing?_

Lily: _I'm walking around the apartment naked_.

Great. Now I was hard at my brother's house.

Me: _Groan. Where's the apron?_

Lily: _Can't seem to find it. Wait. There it is. I'm bending over now to get it..._

Did I say hard? I meant granite.

Me: _Vixen._

Lily: _I'm now wearing the prerequisite outfit aforementioned. Want a picture?_

Sweet Christ. Even her vocabulary was groan-worthy.

Me: _That's not a legit question. Fuck, yes._

I waited five minutes until she sent a photo. I stared a good long beat before I busted out laughing. In the shot, she was lying on my bed, dark hair spilling around her head, and wearing a smile. The selfie only showed her face.

I broke a few laws getting home. And found her curled up on her side on the foot of my bed, fast asleep. As promised, she wore only the apron. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her hair in her face. Sighing, I squatted in front of her and brushed the strands away.

Christ, I came undone. She was so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her. Actually, physically hurt. Her long, dark lashes fanned her cheeks. Red lips parted with deep, even breaths. In slumber, she didn't have the sometimes haunted expression I'd seen, nor the good humor I'd been privileged to witness, but she still tugged at my chest. My sweet, naughty little angel.

Standing, I turned down the covers and untied the apron. Careful not to disturb her, I lifted her in my arms and set her properly on the bed. After switching off the lights and getting undressed, I climbed in next to her and pulled the blankets up. I barely rolled on my side to face her when she instinctively curled into me, burying her face in my neck. She stuck her cold feet between my calves, trapped her hands between our chests, and wedged our thighs together.

That was us. A complicated knot.

She made a cute noise that sounded a lot like a mew. "I fell asleep."

The rasp of my whiskers scratched against her cheek. I ran my hand down the length of her hair. "You don't sleep much. I disturbed you."

Her lips grazed my throat before she tilted her head to look at me. "Your voice is panty-melting. Low and hoarse and come-hither...ish."

I laughed. "Nice to know."

"Good thing you have a hot body to go with the voice. All ribbed abs and bulging biceps. The way your thighs look in jeans makes me drool."

I laughed again. Someone was feisty tonight. Or she was so tired she didn't know what she was saying. "I'm very fond of your body and voice as well." Understatement.

"You have gorgeous eyes. You know that?"

I'd heard it a thousand times, but coming from her the compliment sounded different. "Like emeralds or grass?" Those were the similes most used.

She hummed. "More like moss. Very unique."

If we were going with unique, her sometimes sapphire, often cerulean, and on occasion twilight eyes won out. "So are yours, _mo milis._ " I felt like shit for waking her. Best I could tell, she got about four uninterrupted hours a night. Why she didn't sleep well still sent chills up my spine. I couldn't get the image of a younger, scared version of Lily out of my head. How bad had her childhood in foster care been? Did she have anyone in her life that served as family? It was none of my business, but yet I couldn't shake the need to know. I kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep."

Instead of listening to me, her gaze studied my features, her expression unreadable. Usually she was a wide open book. I hated these few instances when I couldn't read her.

She cupped my jaw, brushing her thumb across my chin. "My experiences weren't bad. I wasn't abused." I had a fraction of a second to be shocked she could read my mind, like she'd crawled inside my head. "I went into the system with my sister at age eight. My sister, Iris, was almost ten. Our parents died in a car accident, and if we had other family to take us in, they didn't step up. I hardly remember them." Her gaze wandered off. "They tried to keep Iris and I together, but it was too hard. We stayed in touch, though. In total, I was placed with three families before I aged out. They were nice people. But none of them felt like home, you know?"

I nodded, even though there was no way I could ever understand what she'd been through. My family had issues, but we loved each other. At least she had a sister. "Lily..."

"Don't feel sorry for me."

My eyes slammed shut as I drew her to me, pressing her face into my shoulder as I fought for control. "I..." Hell. My voice cracked. I lowered my tone to a whisper to hide the emotion. "I don't feel sorry for you." _I love you._ I couldn't say that without putting her in danger, though. I was already walking a thin line. "I'm amazed at your strength."

She didn't say anything more, just rested her cheek on my chest, right over my heart, and drifted back to sleep, as if our talk had somehow comforted her.

Me? It was hours before I closed my eyes.

### Day Six

My initial waking thought was I wasn't alone. Lily's scent filled my nose first, followed by the realization of the warmth of her soft skin against me. We were spooning, her tucked close, my arm around her. The gentle hum of her breathing had me opening my eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds. She'd stayed in bed the whole night? No restlessness, no rising for work? I glanced at my alarm clock, noting it was nine. She was usually gone by now.

I didn't want to let her go, but I'd hate for her to get in trouble at the library for being late. Burying my face in her dark, silky hair, I breathed deep. I would never forget her scent. An aphrodisiac and turn-on with one whiff. Splaying my fingers over her belly, I whispered her name.

She stretched, pushing her ass right up against my morning wood until I was cradled between her cheeks. Reaching behind her, she wove her fingers through my hair. "I work a half day today. Don't have to be in until noon."

The most ridiculous amount of happiness filled my chest, closed my throat. I swept her hair away from her neck and kissed the shamrock tattoo on her nape. "Best news I've ever heard."

Her laugh was sleep-roughened and made me harder yet. Licking, kissing, and nipping my way down her neck, I moved my hand to cup her breast. She moaned. I tweaked the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She arched. My erection became painful, so I dipped my fingers between her folds to test her readiness, and found her wet. She gasped and spread her legs for me, and I was more than willing to fill her.

Yet the scent of her arousal hit me, and I wanted to taste her. We'd always been so hungry for each other that little foreplay had been involved. We'd had sex, we'd fucked, but we'd never taken our time. And I was going to make up for that.

I rose over her and started with her mouth, a slow, thorough kiss that had me desperate for air. I could come from her kiss alone. Passionate, endearing, she toppled walls and erected kingdoms with all the power she wielded.

Her body moved under mine, a sensual glide that informed me she was just as lost. Her hands explored me--my chest, my hips, my back, my ass--until fire licked my skin and my heart thundered behind my ribs.

I kissed my way over her throat and to her collarbone, looking up at her when I trailed lower. Her blue eyes watched my descent, hooded and dark. Keeping my gaze on hers, I sucked her nipple into my mouth. Hard. Panting, she dug her fingers into my hair to hold me to her. Swirling my tongue, I eased the ache away and moved to the other breast, giving it equal treatment. She writhed beneath me, chest rising and falling rapidly.

" _Mo grá_ likes that." My love. I didn't hesitate to use the endearment because it wasn't an outright admission and she couldn't translate anyway.

"Yes," she breathed, arching into my mouth.

I kissed down her belly, watching her lust transition into slight apprehension. Hm. She wasn't accustomed to oral? She'd done just fine with my cock in her mouth in the bathtub the other night. Had her previous lovers not been good to her? Their mistake.

Hands on her inner thighs, I spread her legs and blew gently on her wet folds. She sucked a quick breath, the pulse in her neck pounding. I trailed my tongue up one thigh, down the other, and was pretty sure she stopped breathing.

Watching her, I leaned in and sent a long stroke from her opening to her clit. She tasted as good as she smelled. Her eyes closed and she threw her head back as she reached for my hair again, clenching the strands. I groaned, loving her response.

Sliding my hands under her ass, I lifted her to my mouth. I wove my tongue in and out of her, swirled around her clit, and repeated the process. A strangled cry caught in her throat and my hips jerked. I ground my cock against the sheets for relief. Fuck, I ached. I could spend all day between her legs just to elicit her reaction.

"Declan..."

Sweet Christ, my name on her lips. "What is it, _mo grá?_ More?" I inserted two fingers inside her, curling them, while flicking my tongue rapidly over her swollen clit.

She came, just like that. Clenched around me, bowed off the bed, and nearly yanked my hair out by the root. My hips pistoned faster against the bed, but it offered no relief. I wanted inside her.

I eased her down slowly and, when her trembling ceased and her eyes slowly opened, I kissed her like I was fucking her mouth.

No way was I done. Rising to my knees, I flipped her over onto her stomach and kissed her back, taking extra time to bite her perfect ass. When I spread her legs again, she gasped and looked at me over her shoulder.

"Ah, _mo grá,_ I'm just getting started."

She whimpered and urged her hips back toward me, silently telling me to take her.

Without warning, I pressed my face between her thighs and sucked her swollen flesh. Her broken, pleasured cry was cut off by the pillow when she pressed her face into it. She white-knuckled the blankets and reared back, demanding more. I knew she'd be sensitive from just having come, but I was moments from blowing just watching her. Skin flushed and warm. Musky scent of arousal mixing with her light perfume. Muscles taut, straining to hold on.

I showed her no mercy, since she gave me none. I bit, licked, hummed. She thrashed, moaned, trembled. When she went rigid like she always did right before climax, I rose over her. I crisscrossed my arms between her and the mattress, palming her breasts, and covered her body with mine. One shift of my hips and I sunk deep into her tight, willing body.

I gave us both a moment to adjust, and then slowly rolled my hips.

"Declan. _Declan, Declan, Declan_..."

Her breathy moan and chanting almost made me forget to take my time. I wanted to pound, to chase my orgasm inside her like we'd always done. But not this time. I eased out of her, inch by excruciating inch, as her walls clenched like she hated the withdrawal. When only my tip remained, I pushed back in gradually, until a sheen of sweat coated my brow and I was shaking with need. Fuck. Nothing on earth felt better than her.

"Oh, God. Declan."

I wasn't going to last. Not for long. My spine was already tingling and my balls pinched. My arms still beneath her, I cupped her jaw with one hand and her mound with the other, adding pressure to her clit with the heel of my palm. My fingers spread to where we were joined, my cock slick with her arousal.

My groan came from such a place deep within, I was sure releasing it left me partially empty. Keeping my hand right where it was, so I could feel myself thrusting and pleasure her at the same time, I moved, giving her shallow strokes. She was so close I didn't think she was breathing. I increased my rhythm, going as deep as the positioned allowed. I nipped her shoulder. Buried my face in her neck. Rocked into her faster.

We came at the same time, an explosion of light and resonance and utter everything. It was devastating and infinite and cataclysmic. The sounds...the primal, destructive sounds I made didn't begin to encompass my suffering, my...bliss. Breaths soughing, I trapped her beneath me, grasped desperately at her arms, hips, neck--too much to hold onto and not enough time.

Frustrated, throat tight, I rolled to my back, reached my arm out, and pulled her to my side. She fit her head in the crook of my shoulder and sighed contentedly. I, on the other hand, was not content. Tonight was our last night, and I was pretty certain I'd sell my soul if it meant not letting her go.

She must've sensed my restlessness, because she murmured quiet phrases in French and stroked my chest. Touches meant to tame the feral. After awhile, my heart stopped cracking my ribs and her motions slowed.

Setting her chin on my pec, she smiled at me. "I'm not going to be able to walk at work."

I laughed, damn her, and ran my hand down her hair. "I'll make us something quick to eat. Fuel." I kissed her forehead and got up to step into a pair of jeans. She moved to her back, sheet twisted around her legs, perky breasts thrust forward with her arms over her head. I sighed, leaned over the bed, and kissed her again. "You're beautiful, _mo grá._ "

I was halfway to the door when she asked, "What does that phrase mean?"

Shaking my head, I smiled and left the room. I started a pot of coffee while she showered. The eggs were almost done when she emerged, fully dressed in a pencil skirt, blue blouse and...reading glasses.

I groaned and pushed her plate across the counter toward her. "Librarian. Fantasy."

She smiled knowingly and sat on a barstool facing the counter. We ate in silence, and she left for work after kissing my cheek goodbye.

I must've stood a good twenty minutes in a numb state before I kicked myself into gear. Since this was our last night, I figured I'd make dinner. I wasn't great in the kitchen, but I knew a few dishes. I tried to keep myself busy, but the day dragged.

Six days and I'd become addicted. Not just with the physical aspect of us, but everything. The way she absently played with my hair. The calming presence she brought to my life. How she appreciated food and art. Her maternal instincts, even though she was shown none growing up. The witty comebacks and brilliant mind. She wasn't afraid to learn new things, but she steeped herself in tradition.

The beef roast was finished cooking by the time she strolled in after work. She paused a beat to take in the set table, the flowers in a vase, and the candles. Yeah, I'd turned into a sap. What did I care? It was our last night.

She eyed me as I drew closer. "It smells good in here."

I kissed her until her fingers clutched my tee and she had difficulty standing. "Dinner's done. Have a seat. I'll bring it out."

She hummed and made her way to the table.

We ate, the conversation flowing like the wine I'd bought. She laughed at my holiday stories and I grinned at her tales from work. Every second that passed made me miss her already. I had my family, a good group of friends, but there was no one like her in my life. Around her, I didn't need a filter. It made me wonder, again, who was her support system.

Pushing the plates aside, I reached across the table and linked our fingers. "How often do you get to see your sister?"

Her lips parted, but her gaze dropped to our hands. The grief I often caught in her eyes returned, and my stomach clenched before she even started to speak. "She died last year."

I said nothing--what was there to say?--and absorbed her loss like it was my own. She was alone. Utterly alone in this world. Perhaps she had a myriad of friends and, no doubt friends could fill a void, but it wasn't the same. My throat closed, my chest aching for her. A woman like her should be surrounded by love. If I were in the position to do something about that, I'd give her a litter of kids and sic my family on her until she could only pray for silence.

Her lips pressed together as if trying not to say more, but when our gazes collided, tenderness warmed all the ice in that blue. "We kept in touch growing up, but her foster families weren't as kind as mine. When she aged out of the system, she lived on the streets, got involved with drugs. I think she was just chasing that euphoric feeling they first gave her." She cleared her throat. "She was in and out of rehab a few times, but it never stuck. She committed suicide last summer."

Fuck me. Her voice cracked and I flew out of my seat. Wrapping my arms around her, I carried her into the living room, sat on the couch, and set her in my lap. She curled into me, and though I knew she was crying, the tears didn't break her or turn into sobs.

Helpless, I smoothed her hair and let her be. To lose her parents at such a young age, and then her sister to suicide, had to have created an empty void. And a fault complex in the form of survivor's guilt.

Everyone in her life had walked. Her life had been a series of shitstorms, and I was just another high wind creating chaos.

She sighed. "Iris and I made an interesting pair. She was all out, skated the edge and wasn't afraid to take chances. And I was scared of everything. Nothing but the straight and narrow for me, to the point I only existed in the books I read."

Her sudden decision to live a little made sense now. "So you are venturing out of your bubble."

"Yeah." She adjusted her position and shirt to straddle me, our faces inches apart. Even with red, swollen eyes, she was fucking beautiful. "I came to the conclusion I needed a happy middle. Live, but not recklessly." She laughed. "I got the tattoo first. For...luck."

Oh, the irony. I smiled anyway, loving the shamrock on her nape. "Very sexy. What else?"

She shrugged as if shy. How endearing. "I bought the motorcycle and a new wardrobe." Her teeth sunk into her lower lip as her gaze wandered my face. "I took Aiden up on his offer to visit the pub. Before Iris died, I pretty much went to work and back home. I've been trying to get out more."

Her gaze met mine and she sighed, world weary. "Not exactly living on the edge, but I've mapped out a few places I'd like to travel. Made some changes."

I tucked her hair behind her ears and let my fingers linger in the soft, dark strands. "You're doing great. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did. I'm just sorry you lost your sister that way." I paused, but to hell with it. "Do you want a big family? Kids someday?"

She nodded, but the gesture seemed distracted. "It won't make up for all I've lost, but a husband and children of my own would be a perfect way to build a new family." She shook her head as if to clear it and smiled. "What about you? What do you want? A room at the Playboy mansion? A yacht in Cozumel?"

Though her distraction technique was cute, and her smile always pulled one from me, I couldn't do it. I couldn't pretend.

She appeared to recognize my struggle right away, her smile gradually slipping and her eyes sad. Cupping my jaw, she held my face in her hands as if _I_ was the treasure. "If there was no curse, if you had nothing holding you back, what would you want?"

"You." I'd throw away every cent in my bank account, do whatever it took. But that wouldn't matter because her and I could never be more than the best seven days of my life.

If she was surprised by my response, and she shouldn't have been, it didn't register in her expression. "Why?"

My head fell back to the couch. It wasn't as if I didn't know the answer, but her wanting one shocked me. Honesty at all times. That was one of my stipulations. At this point, what was one more heap of oh-shit to the pile?

I drew a shallow breath, looking at her and keeping my expression open. "Because I didn't believe in love at first sight until I saw you sitting on a park bench. It's not the basis for a relationship, but you proved to me that feeling can be built upon. You're brave and kind and funny and smart. You don't let the world bring you down and you have an uncanny ability to see beauty in even the ugliest of things. You have an open mind and an even more open heart. That's why."

The regret in her eyes hurt me to the bone. Long, aching minutes, we stared. Somewhere in those ticks of the clock, I'd stopped breathing. Her, too, it seemed. We were at a stalemate and both knew it. The end was here. If I were a more selfish bastard, I'd erase that haunted, hopeful look in her eyes with a promise to keep her, take her all over the world to fill that beautiful mind. But she'd changed something in me, and I couldn't risk her not having the full, wonderful life she deserved. My family's curse would break her. Would, in turn, break me.

Her throat worked a swallow. "We didn't follow the rules." _We,_ not _you_.

I shook my head. "No, we didn't." And I regretted not one second. Come tomorrow, I'd be sorry as hell, miss her like oxygen underwater, but never regret. She could never be my happy ending, but she would be the only memory of happy.

Determined not to make our last hours together sheer misery, I leaned forward and kissed her. I could take her right here on the couch, against the wall, or bent over the table. We'd completed her fantasy list and mine, had sex in every imaginable position but one. Missionary. It was the way her other lovers had been with her, the reason why she agreed to my offer in the first place. Call me sentimental, but I didn't want the last time we made love to be about position.

Carrying her to the bedroom, I set her on her feet and undressed her slowly, taking the time to kiss every inch of skin I exposed. She did the same for me with lingering touches and gentle caresses, then lay on the bed. I covered her with my body, kissing her for what seemed like hours, days, telling her with my lips what I couldn't say aloud.

And when I entered her, when we came together with gazes locked and hearts pounding in sync, I knew it would be the last time.

### Day Seven

I didn't want to open my eyes. If I did, any remnants of Lily ever having been in my apartment would be gone. Not just because she had to go to work, but because she would've thought a clean break would be the easiest. Her things would not be where they'd been the past week. Her toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom, her clothes hanging on my closet door, her shoes in the foyer. Even her scent on my sheets would fade.

Fuck. Moisture burned behind my lids. My throat was raked raw with unshed tears. A black, crushing weight resided where my heart used to be. I could only imagine how my grandfather, my dad, or Aiden had felt after losing their loves. I'd only had mine a week and I couldn't open my eyes to face her absence.

Last night, I'd fought sleep. I'd stared at her long lashes fanning her cheeks, her pouty lips, her dark hair on my pillow, and tried to commit every detail of her features to memory. As if by any stretch I'd forget her. Eventually, I'd succumbed to exhaustion and had fallen asleep with my arm banded around her. If I imagined hard enough, she'd still be there, tucked to my side.

I laid in bed too long, and when I couldn't take it anymore, I lifted my lids. No Lily. No anything. Gone. Nausea rolled in my gut.

Sucking a harsh inhale, I climbed out of bed. Bathroom. Email. Gym. Shower.

When I finally made it to the kitchen to try to force some kind of food down, my lungs stalled. Right by the coffeepot was a...Little. Pink. Note. A sound like a wounded animal filled my kitchen, and damn. It came from me.

I couldn't bring myself to read it. If she had scrawled something like, _thanks for everything_ or _I had a great time_ , I just might lose my shit. Permanently.

So, I made coffee and drank it in her favorite spot by the bank of windows. The brew sat like acid in my gut as I stared out at St. Louis, wondering what she was doing right now. If she felt as gutted as me. If it had been hard for her to leave. Somehow, I knew both the answers were yes. I hadn't been alone in this. I saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch last night. Which only made things worse.

Frustrated, I went for a long walk to blow off restless energy and told Aiden I'd pick up Liam from school. Time with the nephew would do me some good. Except it hadn't. Same misery, different location. Hours later, I wound up right back where I'd been this morning--my state of mind and my body. I hadn't eaten, barely slept, and I missed her so fucking hard.

Sometime after dark, my friend Heath texted me. _Your girl is here at Irish Eyes._

I stared at the text, torn between anger and remorse. My first instinct was to rush to the pub, fill this maddening hole she left, but the split was too new and circumstances hadn't changed. Plus, Heath and Josh didn't know about the curse. They'd never understand either it or my reasons to not be with Lily.

Josh's text came five minutes later. _I love this woman! Why aren't you here with her right now? If you hadn't called dibs, I'd marry her._

My friends sucked. And, of course-- _of course_ \--Lily would get along swimmingly with them, would win them over with one bat of her eyelashes.

I didn't respond and no more witty commentary arrived from their end.

I watched some mindless TV and tried to read, did some research on a few upcoming articles due next week. Nothing stopped my gaze from shooting back to the pink paper on my kitchen counter. At two a.m., I gave the fuck up and opened the damn envelope.

Inside the folded paper was a four leaf clover, pressed between two thin pieces of glass no larger than a quarter. With shaking hands, I read the note.

Mo Grá,

You called me this in the last days we were together. I am your love, and you are mine. We didn't plan on it, but it happened. I know your reasons for trying not to fall, yet you did. So did I. Leaving you this note, leaving you, was the hardest thing I've ever done. In a strange twist of fate, I picked this clover the day I met you. After you walked away from me at the park, I glanced down at a patch of grass and, mingled in with other clovers, there it was. My hope is that by doing this, you alone can break the curse and be with me. Declan O'Leary, I give you my love and my luck. Please don't throw either away. Meet me on Saturday at Irish Eyes at 7:00. If you don't come, I'll understand and won't contact you again.

Always,

Lily xoxo

Christ. Oh, Christ Almighty.

I looked from the clover to the note. One hundred years ago, my great-grandfather had thrown a woman's luck and love away, sending generations into this mess. No females had been born in our family since. Not one of the men had been able to hold onto forever with their women. To add crazy to the mix, this coming Saturday, the day Lily wanted to meet, was St. Patrick's Day. And she just...just...

Shit. What had she done?

A strangled cry left my throat. My hands shook so violently I had to set the note and clover on the counter or risk dropping them both. My chest heaved. My limbs locked. My heart pounded. Black dots swam in my peripheral.

Shit, shit, shit. What to do?

When my stomach threatened to revolt, I pulled my cell from my pocket and connected with Aiden. I paced, waiting for him to pick up.

"Declan? What are you doing awake? I just closed the pub."

"I need to see you. Now."

"Is Dad okay? Liam?" Panic shot the questions out, lacing my brother's tone. The hum of Aiden's engine filled the quiet. Passing cars zipped, echoing in the phone.

"Yes, they're fine. It's me. I'm not okay. I need to see you."

"Okay, okay." Tires screeched. "I turned around. I'm five minutes away. Be right there."

Disconnecting, I strode to the corner cabinet, poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass and knocked it back. Fuck it. I downed two more. The burn did little to calm my nerves. Pouring another for myself and one for Aiden, I headed into the living room to wait.

A ding of the elevator and Aiden shot out the doors, did a quick visual scan of my apartment, and ate the distance between us. "What the hell is going on?"

I handed him the whiskey. "You'll need it. Sit down."

Impatience making his movements stiff, he shrugged out of his light jacket and dropped on my couch. He held the glass between his hands, knuckles white.

Unable to sit, I paced the length of the floor and back, one hand fisting my hair, the other holding my drink. I didn't know where the fuck to begin, so I started at the beginning. "Last summer, I met Lily in the park."

I told Aiden the whole story, about running into her at various places, then finally the pub. Told him about the one week and how my feelings for her evolved. I left out her reasons for accepting my offer and the sexual shit. With every word, my brother grew more tense, until I was pretty certain he was going to punch me. By the time I was done, I felt like I'd been dragged across asphalt buck naked.

I stopped. Pacing and talking. Then I downed my whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table between me and my brother.

Aiden hadn't moved, but judging by his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, he was plotting ten thousand ways to kill me. Finally, he set his drink down very carefully and rose. "You stupid sack of shit. I told you not to get involved. I asked you to keep her from the curse--"

"About that." I went into the kitchen, retrieved the note and clover, and returned. I gave Aiden the letter.

His gazed skimmed the note. He stilled, reared, and reread the thing. After a beat, he dropped to the couch as if his legs couldn't hold him. His gaze jerked to mine.

I held up the clover between two fingers.

A gust of air left my brother. He swiped a hand down his face and rubbed his neck. "Shit, man."

"Yeah."

He picked up his drink, tossed it back in one swallow, and slammed the glass down. "What are you going to do?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Would I have called you to come over at two a.m. if I had any idea what I was going to do?"

"Right. Okay, let's figure this out."

I paced again. Hope and anxiety battled inside my chest.

"If you don't go, you'd save her from the curse."

My yes came out more like, _duh_.

"If you do go..."

"I could break the curse or lose her." At this point, our lives boiled down to a flip of a fucking coin. My stomach knotted. I wore the floorboards down to sawdust. Gnashed my teeth. "Hell, Aiden. I love her so damn much it hurts."

His gaze lowered to his hands. "She's been gone less than a day. Try having the best year of your life, bearing a beautiful boy together, only to watch her bleed out in childbirth."

"Christ." I plopped next to my brother and poured us two more fingers of whiskey. "I can't do it. I can't lose her the way you lost Amy. I don't know how you keep breathing."

Aiden nodded. "For Liam, that's how." He sat back and sipped his drink. After a contemplative pause, he looked at me. "You could end it all, right now. In all these years, no woman has done what Lily offered. You could break the curse."

I drank from my glass. Poured another. "And what if it doesn't work?"

Aiden closed his eyes and sighed. "The thing is, if you don't go, isn't that like what Great-Grandfather did? Throwing her luck and love away? Does that start a whole new cycle of curses?"

Sometime between then and the bottom of the bottle, Aiden and I got shitfaced and crashed on the couch, having not solved the great debate.

I awoke midday with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, leprechauns hammering the inside of my skull, and sunlight scorching my retinas.

After a shower, three aspirin, and a bottle of water, I drifted into my office. I uploaded the photo Lily had texted me a few days ago, the one of her laying on my bed, and printed the picture. I put it in an old frame, along with the clover, and set it on my desk. I was still staring at her beautiful face when night fell.

I got drunk. Again. Alone, this time.

It didn't help eradicate her from memory, but it did knock me out clean into the next day, so there was that.

The closer it got to the time Lily asked to meet, the more insane I became. Like a caged animal, I prowled my apartment. Go? Don't go? Risk losing her? Take the chance to be with her? Maybe end the curse? Perhaps start a new one?

I was ready to claw right out of my skin. My head pounded. My gut ached. I was pretty certain a hot poker to the eye would feel better than this limbo. And this wasn't just about me. If the curse wasn't broken by her act, she'd be taken from me in one form or another. There was my family to consider as well. I had the potential to stop years of heartache, end our despair, or start a whole new brand of we're-screwed.

What. The. Fuck. To. Do?

6:30. My heart stopped. I needed to figure it out.

Striding into my office, I grabbed her letter and read it for the millionth time. My gaze landed on her picture, on the clover in the lower corner of the frame sitting on my desk. I looked, really looked at her, and tried to empty my mind of the chaos.

Her blue eyes grounded me, brought back all the times we'd talked, the things I'd told only her. She'd looked at me with intense interest, listened to every word, had been invested in what I had to say. The way her hair spread out over my bed, around her face, had the memory of her scent filling my nose, the calming presence she invoked. I could almost feel those strands through my fingers. Her mischievous smile, a tease, had my body tightening in response. She could make me laugh and pull a groan with her lips alone. I remembered the way she took care of me when I'd overdone it in the gym and how good she was with Liam.

The woman spoke French because she'd read _Les Miserable_ as a teen and thought the language would be romantic to learn. She had no family, had been shown very little affection, yet she loved with her whole being. Brave enough to take chances, smart enough to proceed with caution. Selfless, giving, she'd tamed even a guy like me, brought out long-buried desires. We had passion and chemistry. And clever woman that she was, she'd found a way to try and break a curse, to bring hope back in my life.

I straightened. Blew out a breath.

There. My answer. She was it for me. There would never be anyone else, and she risked everything, knowing our family history, to take the chance on us. I had to do the same.

Grabbing my coat, I ran out the door. Rush hour would be dying down, so I took the elevator to the parking garage level and hoofed it to my car. The drive to Irish Eyes was the longest five minutes of my life. My gaze kept darting to the dashboard clock.

6:55.

6:56.

6:58.

At 7:01, I pulled into the pub's parking lot and bolted for the door. Yanking it open, I was assaulted by heat, noise, and the smell of beer. Being Saturday and St. Patrick's Day, the place was packed. Wall to wall bodies.

I shoved my way inside and toward the bar, three rows deep with patrons. Aiden had two additional bartenders working. I tried to see around the crowd and finally spotted my brother on the other side of the bar, talking to some people. I elbowed my way through, gaze scanning the room for Lily's dark hair.

I didn't see her. Panic started to claw my chest the closer I got to Aiden. He'd know if Lily was here, or if she'd been in at all.

A group of guys shouted _cheers._ The Irish music from the speakers could barely be heard over the noise. Female giggling grated my ears.

Where the hell was she?

Finally, I squeezed through the bustle and shouted for Aiden. From a few feet away, he turned his head toward me and stilled. Slowly, he straightened from where he'd been leaning on the bar. His gaze bore into mine, searching, probing. I forced a swallow and nodded, silently telling him I'd decided. And I chose her. Love. Understanding dawned in Aiden's eyes, softening the thin line of his mouth into a knowing smile. With a tilt of his head, my brother indicated the person in front of him.

I shifted my focus and...there she was. Turned halfway on her stool, wearing a light green sweater and skinny jeans, she regarded me through her blue eyes and a carefully masked expression.

The room emptied of noise, everything else fading away. It was just her and me.

I wove through a group of women to stand in front of her, the crowd shoving us in close proximity. I stood between her knees, the height of the stool putting her at eye level with me. Someone slammed into my back, jostling me closer, but I kept my gaze on her. Two days had felt like two hundred years without her. I wasn't even sure my heart was beating.

I lifted a hand to finger the strands of her hair. "Am I too late, _mo grá?_ "

Her lips parted, eyes widening. She offered a very slight shake of her head.

"Does your offer still stand? Your luck and love given freely?" Christ, I was dying. Though I'd never been more sure of anything in my life, I wanted to give her an out. There was still a chance her act wouldn't break the curse. To me, a life without her would _be_ the curse. Not taking this chance, not having her in my life, was as good as death.

Moisture welled in her eyes, coating her thick, black lashes. Trembling, she nodded. "Yes," she whispered. She cleared her throat and spoke louder. "Yes."

Two things happened right then. One, my heart expanded to fill my chest, so encompassing the dark crevices sealed. And two, I knew my family's unlucky streak was over. There were no bells and whistles, no signs from the heavens, but I was certain. My soul melded with hers in my brother's pub. Among a throng of people amassed in green, drinking ale and chanting folk songs, Lily and I became one, and I knew.

I cupped her cheeks and stroked her jaw with my thumbs. "I love you. I accept your gift and will never throw it away. You, _mo grá,_ have all of me."

She breathed a laugh, tears spilling, and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her lips brushed my ear. "I love you."

I closed my eyes to savor the words. With an arm around her back, I drew her against my chest and kissed her. Her soft lips met mine, tender at first, and then she opened for me. Heat infused my every cell when her tongue met mine, passion and promise with every stroke.

Christ, I'd missed her.

I pulled away to drop my forehead to hers. "I love you, too. So much."

Aiden leaned over the bar, cupping the back of my head and then Lily's. He kissed my cheek. Kissed Lily's. He grinned, happiness and relief and triumph in his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment and nodded, as if he too were sure of my decision. Pouring the three of us a shot, he lifted his. "To love, luck, and the end of bad omens."

Smiling, I tossed back my shot. " _Gach lá ar an saol ar fad tríd_." Each day the whole life through.

I took Lily home and made love to her. Made love to her every night, in fact. Three months later, I proposed to her in Aiden's pub. We bought a house--a three story old Victorian that she said "had character." Two months after that, we got married in a small ceremony one year to the day we met, right next to the bench where I first saw her and she'd picked our clover.

We didn't talk anymore about curses, not because we were superstitious or concerned, but because we knew and believed there was no more curse.

And if there was any doubt to our truth, one year after we wed, Lily delivered twins. Our twins. Perfect little bundles with dark hair, my green eyes, and her addicting smile. A little boy and... _a girl_.

Lucky me.
Check out Declan's brother Aiden's story in Blind Luck.

Both books are available together in the Sheer Luck set!

About the Author:

Kelly Moran is a best-selling & award-winning romance author of enchanting ever-afters. She won the 2013 Catherine Award, is a Readers' Choice Finalist, and a 2014 Award of Excellence Finalist through RWA, plus she earned one of the 10 Best Reads by USA TODAY's HEA. Kelly's been known to say she gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her and there's always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself. Her interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet caffeine junkie and chocoholic, but don't tell anyone. She resides in Wisconsin with her husband, three sons, and her black lab. Most of her family lives in the Carolinas, so she spends a lot of time there as well. She loves connecting with her readers.

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