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.
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