Eala
BPOV
Our moans and grunts
echo in my quiet apartment. I can smell sex permeating the air, making me on
edge as he pumps in and out of me. Our skin is slapping, the noise mixing in
with our praises. My body rocks with the fourth orgasm of the night. I look up
to see his face begin to scrunch up; I know he is about to follow me into
bliss.
“Bella.” He presses his
forehead to mine as he stiffens on top of me.
A year, a year and
the chemistry is still unbelievable.
I remember how cocky he
was when he first walked into my bar. He walked into my bar, and goddamn if he
wasn’t the most handsome fucker that had ever walked into it.
He’s easily 6’1",
built, but not overly so, like the man standing next to him that could give the
Hulk a run for his money. His hair was a mop of bronze and his green eyes were
as bright as a cat’s eyes on a hunt in the night.
I could tell he was
packing; one in the back and one on the hip. The big guy was packing just in
the back, the third man in the group was packing in the back, on his side, and
his pant leg on his left.
You would think that I
would be uncomfortable with it, but my dad raised me better. I was raised with,
and trained with, guns and knives. He is the reason I opened the bar—for him,
to honor his memory.
“What are you thinking
about so hard, taibhseach?” He kisses down my neck.
I smile, loving when the
Gaelic comes out. “Us, how we first met, dathúil.”
He chuckles, probably
thinking back to it as well. “Mo ghrá thú.”
“Táim i ngrá leatsa freisin,”
I reply, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. We both know what
tonight is.
He doesn’t want me
dragged into his family business. He told me the story of how his mother died,
and he blames the family business for it. Not that he doesn’t love the life,
but he wishes that some things could be different. He wishes we could
be different, that we could be together out in the open. But he won’t risk me.
Even though I tell him repeatedly that I can take care of myself.
Not that we ever thought
we would end up in love. In the beginning it was an arrangement that grew into
something that we don’t regret, but our hearts will never be the same. Here we
are, fingers playing with our Claddagh rings. We wear them on our right hands
with the heart facing towards us, showing that we are in a relationship.
We’re committed, but we
can never move forward.
“You know I would risk
the world to be with you.” I lay on my stomach, leaning on my elbows to look at
him.
“And you are my
world, which is why I’m not risking it. I can’t live in a world without
you. Saol
gan tú tá sé cosúil le oíche gan réaltaí.”
I try not to melt into a
puddle of goo with his words.
“Ceart go leor.”
I’m not in the mood to continue this argument that we have had continuously
over the last month since we almost risked being caught.
“How long do we have?” I
find myself tucked into his side, running my fingers through his chest hair.
He kisses my head. “I
probably should get dressed.” His voice is void of any emotion.
I manage to pull myself
away from Edward so we can put clothes on. I find a t-shirt and underwear and
walk out to the kitchen to get something to drink. I turn around when I hear
his shoes hit the kitchen floor. He has something in his hands that he seems to
be focusing on.
“What do you have
there?” I ask, while pointing to the object in his hands.
He looks up and meets my
eyes. “It’s a locket that’s been passed down from generation to generation in
my family.” He sets it in my hand.
It’s a silver chain, and
the locket itself has Celtic knots with a green gem in the middle. “It’s
beautiful.” My fingers trace the knots.
“I want you to have it.”
My eyes fly to his.
“Don’t you want to keep it in the family?”
“It was given to me to
give to my future wife. There won’t be any woman that I will want to marry
besides you.”
I well up with tears.
“Put it on me, please.”
He takes it back from
me. I pull my hair out of the way, and once it’s clasped he kisses my neck.
And now we’re facing
each other. This is it, he has to leave, and I will probably never have this
moment with him again.
With that weighing on
both our minds, we begin to kiss passionately. When we part moments later, he
brushes my hair back over my shoulder.
“Don’t be afraid to stop
by the bar for a drink.” A sob escapes out of me.
“Call me if you ever
need me.” He chokes back his own sob.
“Mo ghrá thú.”
“Mo ghrá thú.” He
pecks my lips one last time and he leaves.
I let the sob break
through that I’ve been holding in. I know we’re doing this for a reason, but it
doesn’t mean I don’t hate this. I hate that he’s a mafia prince. I hate that
his mother was killed because of that life. I want that life with him. I was
made for it, I was made for him. But I know that he won’t be able
to do what he needs to if he has to worry about his enemies knowing about me
and using it to hurt him.
After what feels like
hours I manage to get into the shower, crying more when the memories flood
through of the times we spent in it.
I go to bed as the sun
shines through my curtains. His side of the bed is cold.
It hasn’t been two
hours, and the hole in my heart is wide; I miss him.
‘
Translations:
taibhseach~ gorgeous
dathúil~ handsome
Mo ghrá thú~ I love you
Táim i ngrá leatsa
freisin~ I’m really in love
with you too
Saol gan tú tá sé cosúil
le oíche gan réaltaí~ Life without you is
like a night without stars
Ceart go leor~ okay
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