Hot Male Page 10

  “I want you to go down on me.”

  “You what?”

  “Give me a blowjob.”

  “I know what you meant but why the hell would you even ask for that?”

  Sam frowned. “You’ve done it before and you give the best mouth fuck I ever had. I love you, Meg, suck me.”

  He tried to grab her and she shoved him away. “Fuck off. You could have asked for anything. Why didn’t you tell him to sleep on the sofa?”

  With a pout, Sam sat more upright in his chair. “You kissed him and you don’t love him, so only seems fair you give me head.”

  Rage filled her body, making her shake. She pushed to her feet and reached over to slap Sam across the face. “I am not some bloody sex object for you to fight over, Sam Stephens. Why don’t you both flop your cocks out on the table and measure up. Then again, there’s no need. I’ve seen you both naked and you’ve got pin dicks to go along with your pea-sized brains.”

  Michael chuckled and she turned toward him. He shoved his chair back and caught hold of her wrists, holding her off.

  “Fuck you, Michael Monaghan.” She wriggled and flailed but couldn’t break free. Every failed attempt made her madder and more determined to get away from both of them. “Let me go.”

  He grinned but let her loose, and without another word she scurried up the stairs barely holding back tears of anger and frustration.

  She didn’t even bother to turn on the light or change; instead she climbed into the nearest bed and pulled the blankets over her head, determined not to cry. How could Sam be so insensitive? She hated Michael watching them, she hated Michael, period, and now Sam wanted to use her to titillate himself and the horrible freaky Irish moron. She punched the pillows and buried her face to let out a scream. The sound of footsteps and giggling on the stairs had her screwing up her eyes and pretending to sleep.

  “Stand up, man.”

  “Shh, you’ll make Meg mad.”

  “You did that already, dickhead.”

  “Did you see the way she slapped me? She’s amazing when she’s angry, isn’t she? Makes me go all hard.”

  “You going hard is what got her mad. Now stand up straight, I’m not dragging your drunken arse to bed.”

  The sounds stopped and she heard the click of the bedside light and felt the side of the bed dip. She sat up and glared at Sam struggling to pull back the blankets. “Get out.”

  He turned. “What?”

  “Get out of my bed.”

  “Meg, you don’t mean it, do you? Where will I sleep?”

  “You can either stumble back down the stairs or share with him, but you’re not sleeping in here with me.”

  “Baby.”

  “Don’t baby me. Get out.”

  Michael tugged Sam to his feet. “Maybe you’d best be sharing with me.”

  Sam shrugged him off. “I’m not really gay,” he whispered. “I’m just pretending.”

  “I know that. If you weren’t I would kick your drunken arse down the stairs instead of letting you share my bed.”

  Meg did her best to ignore them as they both climbed into Michael’s bed.

  “Get your hands off me, you maggot, and stay on your side of the bed. Touch me again and I’ll fucking punch you.”

  Sam giggled. “Sorry.”

  The light was extinguished, and Meg turned her back on them and tried not to cry. How had she ended up sleeping alone? Not that she wanted to sleep with either of them and certainly not Michael. Warmth flooded through her as the memory of his kiss flitted through her head. She shoved it aside and concentrated on being angry. She was not interested in touching, kissing or doing anything else with Michael Monaghan, ever. And Sam would have to grovel and beg before she would ever forgive him.

  Chapter 18

  Michael turned the bacon and glanced over his shoulder as Maggie shuffled into the kitchen. She’d pulled on an oversized sweater, jeans and thick woolen socks, but her hair was tousled and curled from a restless night. He’d heard her sniffing more than once, and he’d used all his self-control not to get out of bed and offer some comfort. Her eyes were puffy but still filled with rage when she glanced at him. Choosing to stay in his own bed had been the right decision, apparently. Things had gotten completely out of hand the night before and he was truly sorry his actions had made her cry.

  “Breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Coffee, then?”

  She shrugged, and he filled a mug and passed the warm drink to her. “Milk and sugar are on the table.”

  Without a word she took a sip of the strong black liquid and slid onto the chair furthest away from where he was cooking. She pulled her feet up onto the seat and hugged her knees with her free hand. If she had yelled fuck off the message wouldn’t have been any clearer.

  He turned his attention back to the pan, cracking in a couple of eggs. Happy everything was cooked, he lifted the bacon, sausage and eggs onto a plate. He placed the breakfast on the table and let out a loud sigh. Things couldn’t go on this way. Who knew how long it would take to persuade Maud and Declan to come home with them. Besides, it tore at his heart to see the bright, bubbly, happy Maggie that he had gotten to know in the last few months disappear back into the shell of the frightened, miserable young girl he had known briefly when he’d dated her sister. As much as he hated to admit it, Sam was good for her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for? You were only being your usual dickhead self.”

  Taking his courage in his hands, he crossed the room and squatted next to her chair, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “Guilty as charged. However, I never meant to make you and Sam fall out.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He placed a hand on her arm. “Maggie. I’m many things, including the pea-brain you accused me of being, but I’m not completely heartless. You and Sam belong together. Harmless teasing and spying on you making out is one thing, but busting you up is another. Whatever I have to do, I’ll make you both see sense and move past this roadblock I threw in your path.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t be nice. You’re confusing me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I had you all figured out as a self-centered, egotistical pig, with no moral compass and no heart.”

  “And don’t forget the pin dick.”

  A ghost of a smile twitched her lips. “I want to hate you.”

  “And do you?”

  She shrugged as a tear trickled down her cheek.

  “And how do you feel about good old Sam?”

  “I don’t hate him.”

  Michael smiled. “Good, then I think we can salvage things.”

  She scrubbed her tears with the cuff of her sweater. “Thanks.”

  “No need, besides, my motives are not all pure. Truth be told, the only reason I want you back together is to get him out of my bed.”

  “You didn’t enjoy sleeping with him?”

  “Not in the least. The man has hands everywhere.”

  Maggie sighed. He ran his knuckles down her cheek, drying the last of her tears with his fingers. “Now why don’t you eat the breakfast I made for you, and then go and have a long hot soak in that glorious bath upstairs.”

  “Won’t Aunt Rosalie be coming over?”

  “Been and gone. I told her we could do for ourselves for the duration.”

  “What about Sam?”

  “I think he could use a walk in the fresh air to clear his head before he takes you on.”

  As he started to rise to his feet, she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. She brushed her lips softly against his. A pain filled his chest and churned his stomach. Maggie was one of a kind. He deserved a wallop or to be sent packing, but instead she forgave him. No one quite reached the parts of his soul that she touched with her gentle nature and equally fiery temper. She stood, and he hugged her close, resting his cheek on her soft curly hair. The kiss freely given was sweeter th
an any he had stolen from her. She pulled back and he held her at arm’s length. “Now, I’d best go and get Don Juan out of bed.”

  He left the room without a backward glance and almost bumped into Sam standing in the hall. The poor man was a sight to behold. One hand was clutched to his head and the other was pressed to the wall as if he needed the support.

  Michael strolled past him and collected their coats from the rack behind the front door. He tossed Sam his jacket and scarf. Sam fumbled as he caught them and then swayed a little.

  “What’s this for … shh … don’t shout.”

  “I didn’t say a word. Now put those on. We’re going to get some air.”

  Sam glanced toward the open kitchen door. “What about Meg?”

  Michael shrugged on his own coat and then took Sam’s and held it ready for him to slide his arms into the sleeves. “She’s having breakfast and a bath. Once you’ve cleared your head she’s all yours.”

  “Is she still mad at me?”

  “Angrier than an alley cat and twice as fierce.”

  “I’m going to kill you for last night.”

  “You might want to finish sobering up first. Do you want some air before you choose your weapon?”

  Sam glanced at the kitchen door before he slipped on his coat and zipped it up. “Yeah, maybe leaving her for half an hour would be good. You’re safe for now but once I’m sober all bets are off.”

  Michael chuckled.

  Sam trotted behind Michael as he strode along a fence line. “Where are we going and why are we running? And why does the sun have to be so damn bright? I should have brought my sunglasses with me.”

  “We’re going to get you some coffee, but first we’re taking a brisk walk to clear your head. Fresh Irish air is better than any hangover cure I’ve ever tried.” Michael checked his pace to let Sam catch up. “I’m thinking I owe you an apology.”

  Sam’s stomach lurched. He should never have got drunk. He’d left Meg unprotected. “What did you do to Meg?”

  “Nothing. I meant an apology for putting a wedge between you and your lady. Not that you helped the situation any by choosing a blowjob as your prize.”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “You were jealous, you mean?”

  “Okay, so what if I was. How would you feel if Meg was your girl and I kept slobbering all over her? Sniffing around like a randy dog. I wish you would fuck off and leave her alone. Meg’s special and she’s mine. She needs to be handled with care.”

  “Ahh, was that what you were doing last night when you told her she gives the best mouth fuck you ever had? Or how about when you cuffed her to the St Andrew’s cross and had your evil way with her at the strip club the other night?” Michael grinned when Sam glared at him. “If you want to punch me, go right ahead.”

  Sam thought about it for a moment. He would love to knock the big man flat on his back in the snow. But he was in enough trouble already. He couldn’t risk making things worse. “Meg wouldn’t like it.”

  “I don’t see Maggie around here any place, do you? So go on, big boy, take your shot. I probably deserve a smack. I’ll even promise not to hit you back.”

  Sam kicked at a clod of snow and marched ahead. The moron was making fun of him, he was sure of it. He would bide his time and then wipe the smirk right off his face. “It’s no fun hitting a man when he’s expecting it.”

  “Or perhaps it’s no fun hitting a man when you know you were as much in the wrong as he was. I’ve said sorry. Can’t we be friends? Let bygones be bygones?”

  Sam stopped and stared at him. “Are you serious? Do you plan to stop molesting my girlfriend?”

  “Do you plan to stop being jealous of every man who so much as dares flirt with her? You can’t posses her. She’s her own person. Maybe this whole sex thing you’ve got going on woke up more than you can cope with. The Maggie I remember from my early days was a frightened little mouse who ran away from a man at the first sign of anything sexual. Now look at her; a radiant beautiful woman and it’s down to you. But you can’t put the genie back in the bottle once you’ve let the damn thing out. You know about the reputation her ma’s family have.”

  Sam didn’t want to think about the sexual peccadilloes of Meg’s family and he sure as hell wasn’t going to consider that he might not be enough for her. “I saw you kissing Meg just now. Was that the plan, make us fall out and then move in for the kill?”

  “If that were the plan, I would hardly be out here talking to you now, would I? I didn’t kiss Maggie. She kissed me. If you want to know why, then you need to ask her because I am as much in the dark about her feelings toward me as you are. Last time I checked she said she hated me. Now let’s forget last night ever happened and go and get some coffee and breakfast to build you up before your big make up session. A man is going to need a lot of carbohydrates to satisfy a she-wolf like Maggie.”

  Sam picked up a handful of snow and tossed it at Michael, hitting him in the middle of his chest. The Irishman grinned before he grabbed Sam in a headlock and dragged him wriggling and protesting along the path and into a stone building.

  Once over the threshold, Michael came to a halt and let Sam go. Hangover or no bloody hangover, Sam was ready to kick the Irishman up the arse until he noticed Michael’s face had gone strangely pale. Sam turned and looked at the dark-haired woman serving at the counter. She had Michael’s full attention.

  Chapter 19

  Sam wandered back toward the house. A full Irish breakfast, two cups of black coffee, and a couple of pain killers cheerfully provided by the very amused waitress had chased away his hangover, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted to face Meg. He’d been a horse’s arse. Even though he’d been drunk he should never have asked for a blowjob in front of Michael. If he’d been thinking with his brain instead of his dick he would have chosen Michael sleeping on the sofa as his reward. Once he got Meg alone they could have made out like sex was an Olympic sport. Instead, he’d endured a night in the Irishman’s bed. God only knew why women found him attractive to sleep with. He stole the blankets and snored.

  He checked his watch. Just after ten. Hopefully Meg had bathed in peace and felt calm and refreshed. He scouted the garden in the hopes of finding a flower or something romantic to give as a peace offering. Nothing was in bloom, but why would they be in the middle of winter? His only hope appeared to be something sharp and prickly, but Meg was worth the pain.

  Cautiously, he approached the front door and gave the timber a tap. Sounds of footsteps on the slate floor made him stand straighter and try a smile before discarding it and replacing it with what he hoped was a look of contrition. Heart racing, he braced himself as he heard the bolt being drawn back. He wasn’t sure his cheek had recovered from the stinging slap she’d delivered the night before, and he wasn’t going to let her get another one in if he could stop it.

  The door swung open and Meg stood inside chewing her bottom lip. She frowned. “Do you need the bathroom?”

  Not the response he’d hoped for but at least she appeared calm. “No. Why?”

  “You look like you’re constipated. Why are you pulling a face?”

  “I’m trying to appear contrite. Here.” He pulled his gift from behind his back and held the straggly bunch toward her.

  “Holly?”

  “Peace offering. I hoped for mistletoe but I couldn’t find any. There mustn’t be any growing in the garden.”

  “Oak trees.”

  “What?”

  She half smiled. “It grows on oak trees. You’d better come in before you freeze to death.”

  He followed her inside, only stopping long enough to shed his boots, coat, and scarf in the hallway before making his way to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

  “Where’s Michael?”

  Sam shrugged. “Not here.” He didn’t want to waste time talking about Michael. Besides, the Irishman’s business was his own, and if the expression on his face when th
e dark-haired woman called Brigit had hugged him was any indication, he wasn’t happy with whatever that business was. Anyway, he had enough problems without adding Michael’s to the pot. “Meg, I’m sorry for being such an idiot. If I could go back in time I’d have chosen to make Michael sleep on the sofa.”

  “But you can’t and you didn’t.”

  “I was drunk.”

  “Ask girls to give you a blowjob often when you’re drunk, do you?”

  “No, not girls. Only you. I can’t help that you drive me nuts. My behavior was thoughtless and petty. I got pissed that Michael stole a kiss from you. I was jealous and stupid and wanted to show him you were mine. I should have just punched him in the head and be done with it.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust Michael. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and who can blame him, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere and, for your information, I’m not planning on going off with him behind your back no matter what he does or tries to do.”

  Sam grinned. “What about behind my front? I want to cover all the bases.”

  She turned her attention to the warming kettle. “Do you want coffee?”

  “No.” He crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I was joking but that was a thoughtless comment. The Irish git makes us both paranoid, for different reasons. I’m sorry. I do trust you.” He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a loud sigh. He should have planned what to say. “Jesus, Meg, I want to be forgiven.”

  “I don’t think you’ve begged enough yet.”

  Sam sunk to his knees and looked up at her. “I’m truly, truly sorry for my behavior. Will you please forgive me?”

  Laying a hand on his head, she smiled down at him. “You’re forgiven. I had forgiven you even before you came back. I know what a stupid drunk you are and how you let your dick get control of your head.”

  “So why am I on my knees then?”

  She grinned. “I wanted to see how far I could push you. I wonder if you would have run around the garden naked if I had told you to.”