Cross the Line - 9

Chapter - 9

Naomi let Conor lead her out into the adjacent room that housed what had been called a buffet, but was in fact an amazing smorgasbord of whole fish, carved meats, salads.....a true feast. She had a moderate plate full, but her nerves of the whole day had destroyed her appetite.

There was a slight awkwardness between them suddenly, and Naomi wished he’d never kissed her on the dance floor, well not for that reason anyway. They’d come to Ireland as friends, and the kiss had crossed that line, she only hoped that they could salvage the weekend before it all spiralled out of control. The worst thing was, she had wanted to kiss him, and had enjoyed it. Sighing she carried her food back into the ballroom, and as he directed her towards a table, she spotted a man waving frantically in their direction, a beaming smile on his face.

                “Friend of yours?” she asked over her shoulder.

The pressure of his hand on her spine eased as he gasped, “well well, if it isn’t Patrick Kelly!” The other man was now standing and striding towards them, and Naomi was stunned to see that he was taller than Conor, who was taller than most, his blonde shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail. A lithe Asian woman stood up next to him and the three people hugged each other before Conor finally remembered she was there.

                “Sorry, Naomi, this is my oldest friend, Patrick Kelly who told me last week that he couldn’t possibly leave Los Angeles and his high powered job as a film producer to come to this wedding. And this is his wife Lucinda, guys, this is Naomi.” They all greeted with handshakes, as Conor shook his head, “Kelly, when are you going to stop telling me lies, I was gutted you weren’t coming back. You told me the World of movie producing couldn’t survive without you!”

He sighed as all four sat down together, “well work things changed...and I would never miss an O’Neill wedding by choice!” 

Conor looked at his friend and saw the humour in his eyes, “Ahh! Who told you?”

Patrick chuckled, “I won’t lie, I did call Michael and heard that you were bringing a companion...one I knew NOTHING about!” Naomi blushed as she realised she was the topic of discussion, and Conor felt that tug of protectiveness pull at him again. Reaching out he ensnared her reluctant hand in his and squeezed it, before they rearranged their seating to make room for the friends.

As they sat, ate and made general conversation, various people joined them or interrupted to speak to Patrick or more frequently Conor. And they were also so obviously close, in a way that he wasn’t with his siblings, dropping into old jokes and conversations that both Naomi and Lucinda had no part, so they instead discussed life in LA, the world of law, and Lucinda’s home town of San Diego, a long way from Naomi’s own home town.

                “So can I have the pleasure of this dance?” a voice dragged Naomi from the conversation to see Patrick stood with a hand out stretched. Smiling she stood and allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor. Taking in to a waltz hold, he grinned down at her, “had to get you away from the old Con artist! He’d watch me like a hawk if I talk to you in front of him, now I get to share all his embarrassing stories.”

She chuckled, “well I think you’ll find Máire and Sinéad beat you to that earlier.”

He threw back his head and laughed, “au contraire! What family know, and what friends know are two very separate things!”

Swirling her around, cutting between the other dancing couples expertly, she marvelled at his skills, “so you and Conor are kind of celebs around here.” 

                “Not far short Naomi, we were the first sons to both move out of our village, and the first to marry outside of the ‘vicinity’!”  He sighed, “We’re seen as rebels...and I think a lot of the youngsters aspire to do what we did. Though going to London or Birmingham to University is no real big deal.”

She nodded, “he doesn’t mention his wife.”

                “It was a hard time for him. You are the first woman he’s introduced to me, let alone the family. His bringing you here is a big thing. His mother has been so worried, without loading too much on your shoulders; she’s seeing you as his therapy.”

Naomi winced, “no pressure then?” She wished she knew more about why his marriage failed, but any attempt to discuss it had been met with a stone wall. 

He shook his head, “only the whole O’Neill dynasty!”

They’ll hardly danced a dozen more steps than a hand tapped Patrick’s shoulder, “May I step in?”

Patrick handed her over to Conor with a theatrical bow. Naomi looked up into his eyes and smiled, she couldn’t be angry with him for long. Wrapping his arms around her, his hands pressuring her bare shoulder and the centre of her spine, and she relaxed into the embrace with a sigh.

As she leaned into him, his chin rested on her head, “sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. You’ve every right to be angry with me.”

She leaned back in his arms, to look up at him, “there was nothing wrong with the kiss, it had the desired effect.” There was a definite lack of warmth in her voice as she searched his face for the slightest hint of guilt.

Instead, he nodded in agreement and pulled her back close to him.

Naomi heard the groan escaping her lips and was torn between her anger at his lack of tact, and the desire and excitement his proximity was causing. The wriggle of her body against his was involuntary, but the pressure of his body seemed to feed her hunger a little. Her tender breasts were crushed against his hard chest, her whole body betraying her plans to remain aloof, distant.

Then she felt his lips at her hairline, a moan against her skin and she knew that this was no public display, as if to reiterate the point, his hands on her bottom pulled her pelvis into his, and pressed his rather impressive erection into her soft stomach.

The music was a quite sultry, and they swayed together, neither speaking, the tension too great.

Eventually Conor pulled slightly away from her, “it’s late. We’ve had a long day, and an early start. Shall we head back to the room? Get some sleep?”

Naomi nodded, still dazed from the prolonged time wrapped up in his arms, and allowed him to lead her discreetly across the room. They’d just made it to the reception and were about to take the stairs that started the walk back to their room, when a voice stopped them, or rather stopped Conor.

                “Conor?”

Naomi could tell by the way he froze that this wasn’t about to be a good confrontation, his whole body stiffened and it was a long few seconds before he turned to face the middle aged man stood smiling at him.

                “Declan!” Conor inclined his head politely before stepping towards the man and shaking his hand. “How are you?” After they shook hands, he remembered Naomi and briefly introduced them. “Naomi, this is Declan, my...ex-father in law I suppose,” he half laughed as Naomi shook hands with the man.

                “You’re looking well,” Declan offered.

 Conor nodded, “it took time, but, life is good.” At that moment he smiled down at Naomi and she felt the blood start to pound in her head. How could one man ignite her so rapidly with just a glance?

She missed the rest of the forced pleasantries, but Conor’s mood had changed dramatically by the time they turned back to make for the room.

It was gone two am when they finally found their room tucked away in a turret. Exhausted, she changed into new pyjamas and gratefully cleaned her teeth, before emerging from the bathroom.

It was a  positively sinful room, romance and passion emitted from every inch of the brick walls, four poster bed, open fire, that had been lit to a gentle warm heat.  Conor was sat in an arm chair, the black look on his face illuminated by the fire, drinking a whisky in just his trousers, his broad, hair smattered bare chest reflecting the fire light. He held his breath as he took in her vest and shorts, hair scraped back into a pony tail, face scrubbed clean of makeup. She never failed to amaze him with the multiple facets of her appearance and personality, she looked all of fifteen now, as she held her hand out for his whisky and took a slug.

                “I enjoyed tonight Conor!” She sat opposite him, eyeballing him in the same appreciative way, he looked divine in that dinner suit...but out of it, he looked even better. The silent ‘despite the kiss’ she knew sat between them, but she was too tired, too fraught to deal with anything now.

                “So did I!” he stood and looked down at her for a moment, before turning and heading into the bathroom.

When he emerged she was tucked into bed, the covers next to her thrown back invitingly, but he headed to the sofa.

                “Conor! It’s fine. Share the bed with me! This room I’m sure wasn’t cheap, so don’t waste your time and money by sleeping on an old uncomfortable and too small settee. We’re adults aren’t we?”

                “Are you sure?” everything in his body screamed to ignore her, to play it safe, to keep away. Like her, his emotions were fraught, it had been a good night, but it hadn’t come without its problems.

When she nodded, he turned off the lights and headed towards the bed.