pass the Garahan sticking test? His ex hadn’t.
Firefighters gave everything they had to their jobs, so the women in their lives had to prove that they’d stick through the tough times, picking up the slack when their men were broken and bleeding on the inside from the very jobs that they loved. His brother Mike had found that with his fiancée, Moira.
He traced his thumb along the line of her jaw and the surprising tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “Baby, what is it?”
“Just when I’ve decided I’m not what any man would want until I go on a crash diet, you walk into my life and have got me so twisted up on the inside wanting you that it hurts to breathe.”
The hurt she tried to hide was there deep in her eyes. “Want me to hobble him?”
She blinked. “What?”
He slowly smiled. Her tears were gone and her eyes were clear. “The guy who made you think you need to be skinny. The ancient art of hobbling leaves your enemies alive but helpless.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that entails.”
“ Aut vincam aut periam .”
“Latin?”
Gorgeous and smart. “Yeah. It means ‘I will either conquer or perish.’ It’s our Purcell ancestors’ family motto. My great-grandfather liked to pass on battle stories and they always ended the same—no quarter, no prisoners. We take care of our own, so you just say the word, sweetheart.”
She shook her head. “Remind me not to make you mad.”
He laughed and hugged her tight. “You suit me down to the bone, Grace Mulcahy.”
She laughed, a low and sensuous sound as she nibbled at his lips. He gave in and pressed his mouth to hers, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her kiss until he thought he’d spontaneously combust. The need to make love to Grace screamed through him, but he wouldn’t rush things—he would savor her a little bit at a time until they were both ready to make that leap. He craved her scent and another taste of her sweet lips and, for the first time in years, was afraid that he’d want her even if she didn’t pass the sticking test.
Braced against his chest, his arms holding her tight, he swung her around and around in a circle until they were both dizzy and laughing. He turned one last time and tumbled them to the ground, skimming his hands from her shoulders to her curvy backside over and over, memorizing each and every dip, until he would remember how good she felt while they were apart.
When she moaned, he lifted his head up to lock lips with her, shifting his handholds to her sides, where he tortured them both by sliding his hands up, dipping in at her waist and then slipping between them to cup her bodacious breasts.
“Your curves slay me, Grace.”
She reared back and stared at him. When he nodded to emphasize his words, she planted her elbows in his pecs and rested her head on her hands. After watching him like a hawk for a few minutes, her frown smoothed out and a look of puzzlement settled on her features. “You mean it,” she said, “don’t you?”
Sensing that his next words were crucial, he opted for a different way to get his point across. Sliding one hand to her backside, he pressed down until she was snugged up against him. The heat from her sweet center nearly burned him alive. Lifting his torso, with his free hand he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to meet his.
He tasted the sweetness she had in abundance before tracing the fullness of her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She moaned and he tangled his tongue with hers, coaxing her to take what she wanted, giving all that he could.
When they finally had to come up for air, she laughed softly. “Was that your answer?”
“Do you want me to tell you again?” he teased, knowing that there was no way he could kiss her like that again and not have it all. He ached from holding back when his body craved being buried to the hilt inside her.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m like this
Firefighters gave everything they had to their jobs, so the women in their lives had to prove that they’d stick through the tough times, picking up the slack when their men were broken and bleeding on the inside from the very jobs that they loved. His brother Mike had found that with his fiancée, Moira.
He traced his thumb along the line of her jaw and the surprising tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “Baby, what is it?”
“Just when I’ve decided I’m not what any man would want until I go on a crash diet, you walk into my life and have got me so twisted up on the inside wanting you that it hurts to breathe.”
The hurt she tried to hide was there deep in her eyes. “Want me to hobble him?”
She blinked. “What?”
He slowly smiled. Her tears were gone and her eyes were clear. “The guy who made you think you need to be skinny. The ancient art of hobbling leaves your enemies alive but helpless.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that entails.”
“ Aut vincam aut periam .”
“Latin?”
Gorgeous and smart. “Yeah. It means ‘I will either conquer or perish.’ It’s our Purcell ancestors’ family motto. My great-grandfather liked to pass on battle stories and they always ended the same—no quarter, no prisoners. We take care of our own, so you just say the word, sweetheart.”
She shook her head. “Remind me not to make you mad.”
He laughed and hugged her tight. “You suit me down to the bone, Grace Mulcahy.”
She laughed, a low and sensuous sound as she nibbled at his lips. He gave in and pressed his mouth to hers, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her kiss until he thought he’d spontaneously combust. The need to make love to Grace screamed through him, but he wouldn’t rush things—he would savor her a little bit at a time until they were both ready to make that leap. He craved her scent and another taste of her sweet lips and, for the first time in years, was afraid that he’d want her even if she didn’t pass the sticking test.
Braced against his chest, his arms holding her tight, he swung her around and around in a circle until they were both dizzy and laughing. He turned one last time and tumbled them to the ground, skimming his hands from her shoulders to her curvy backside over and over, memorizing each and every dip, until he would remember how good she felt while they were apart.
When she moaned, he lifted his head up to lock lips with her, shifting his handholds to her sides, where he tortured them both by sliding his hands up, dipping in at her waist and then slipping between them to cup her bodacious breasts.
“Your curves slay me, Grace.”
She reared back and stared at him. When he nodded to emphasize his words, she planted her elbows in his pecs and rested her head on her hands. After watching him like a hawk for a few minutes, her frown smoothed out and a look of puzzlement settled on her features. “You mean it,” she said, “don’t you?”
Sensing that his next words were crucial, he opted for a different way to get his point across. Sliding one hand to her backside, he pressed down until she was snugged up against him. The heat from her sweet center nearly burned him alive. Lifting his torso, with his free hand he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to meet his.
He tasted the sweetness she had in abundance before tracing the fullness of her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She moaned and he tangled his tongue with hers, coaxing her to take what she wanted, giving all that he could.
When they finally had to come up for air, she laughed softly. “Was that your answer?”
“Do you want me to tell you again?” he teased, knowing that there was no way he could kiss her like that again and not have it all. He ached from holding back when his body craved being buried to the hilt inside her.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m like this
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