Merry Christmas

Hope you are all enjoying the festivities...if you celebrate Christmas that is. I've had a hectic time, but am not back and committed!!


As the characters have changed a lot in the last few chapters, I'm not going to comment on comments up until now, except for  anonymous who posted a comment on chapter  11 that there were two incomplete stories on Buzzle, they were all completed to a point, some didn't have epilogues, but otherwise were finished...unless the wonderful Buzzle has done it's great trick of deleting anything bordering on controversial! So please let me know what stories you meant! More than happy to repost chapters!  


This story isn't getting as many comments as usual and I'm not sure whether that's because people aren't enjoying it? Can only improve things if I get feedback, I rely on you guys! 


Chapter 14 will be up in the next hour or two! And I promise a few more quick chapters this week. 


Once again Season's Greetings!


MZ

Cross the Line - 13

Chapter 13 

Naomi felt as though the rug had been pulled from under her as she watched the two people smooching and hugging in a bordering on obscene way. Her heart was racing, but each breath brought a searing pain to her chest. Even if she was only there as a front, as a fake girlfriend, she didn’t deserve the piteous looks from family, friends, or to be the subject of the awkward tension that had descended over the ballroom.

Nodding in an enigmatic way, she walked back out of the door. The air had cooled suddenly, almost as though nature had picked up on the awkwardness of everything and she shivered slightly as she made her way down from the terrace to the path that led to the reception, she couldn’t face going back in there. It was late, she knew she couldn’t get away, not this evening, but she’d leave the castle as soon as she feasibly could.

Like a naughty schoolgirl, she skulked back to her room trying to be as invisible as she could. But a few pitiful eyes did cast a glance at her. In the room she slumped onto the bed. She had two options, to try and leave now, or book a separate room and then get out as soon as she could in the morning.

But it was back to the drawing board as she stood at the desk being told by the receptionist that the castle was full, there were no spare rooms. Suddenly it was all too much and she felt exhaustion take over her.

                “Can I help at all?”It was Patrick, looking charming and smiling beside her.

                “I need to get to the airport.”

He sighed, “I shouldn’t...”

She looked at him pleadingly, “I can’t get a room for myself, and this lovely lady,” she nodded in the direction of the decidedly jobsworth receptionist, “has informed me I won’t get a taxi before tomorrow morning.”

                “What are you running from?” his gaze was intense and there was a certain innocence in his question.

Naomi shrugged, “Take your pick, being ritualistically humiliated? A disastrous date? Hell, I’ve just realised this is a mistake.”

He shook his head, “you both look good together, happy, natural. I’ve never seen Con so relaxed.”

                “Were you just in that room?” She shook her head in amazement. “Look! Can you drive me to the airport?” She was angry now, he wasn’t listening to anything she was saying, he wasn’t thinking of the embarrassment she’d suffered, how Conor was draped around his ex-wife. It was all so ugly, and painful.

He shrugged, “if that’s where you want to go. If you’re sure?”

She nodded, “I’ve never been more sure. I need to go now.”

He ignored the signs of the tears that had earlier ravaged her face. Opening the door to his car for her, he waited until she was sat before crossing to the driver door and sliding in next to her; he turned to Naomi and said, “Conor asked me to take you wherever you wanted to go. He doesn’t want to see you stranded.”

She froze for a moment, then taking a deep breath she turned to him slowly, “You kid yourself that he’s THAT considerate! The man is an egotistical bastard and to be totally honest, at this moment I hate him!”

Patrick’s smile oozed sarcasm, “It didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”

She shrugged, “looks can be deceiving. And to be honest things change. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde, one minute a gentleman, the next a monster. I’m here to help him out, and he can’t even be bothered to organise what happens to me himself, he sends his lackey!”

Sighing he offered a wry grin, “Conor is one of the most genuine and decent people I know, if you want to slate him then you’ll have to have evidence to back it up I’m afraid.”

                “What does it matter? I just want to go home.” All the fight had gone from her, she couldn’t be bothered to even question his loyalty to a man who’d behave the way he had.

“Last night, and today you two looked besotted, I haven’t seen him so happy in years.”

                “He’s only besotted with himself Patrick. He used me, took advantage, just as he always has.”

               

Patrick turned in the seat to look at her, “he has never brought another woman home here since his divorce, he’s endured the family’s sympathy, matchmaking, everything. If he was just interested in using someone, he’d have done this before. Why don’t you just talk to him?”

She shrugged, “Talk? Well he’d have to get out of that bubble of denial he lives in first...oh and disengage his body from that of his modelesque ex-wife! Have you any idea how hard it is to see them like that?”

                “He’s not very good with emotions and relationships, he’d put so much into his marriage. How he survived I’ll never know.”

                “Survived what?”

                “Hasn’t he told you about Orla? About all that happened?”

Naomi shrugged, “he only tells me what he feels I need to know, so I know he was married, it ended. That’s about it.”

                “God he’s in a worse state than I imagined!” He raked his fingers through his hair in a distressed manner. “Naomi, he threw Orla out four years ago, she’d just had a baby, he never said that the baby was why he married her, but she was never his type. Their baby Tom, was born with heart problems, poor Con, he spent days just sat beside his incubator, it was almost Christmas and the weather was bad. Little Tom needed a blood transfusion, but the roads were blocked and they had no local supplies. Orla was still home ‘recovering’, so Conor offered his own blood. Any father would.”

Naomi was reeling at these revelations, but she also sensed there was not a great ending to this story and she gulped rather awkwardly, “of course.”

Patrick agreed, “Only he wasn’t the father.”

                “What?!”

                “He wasn’t a match, and that meant he couldn’t be the biological dad.” Patrick looked up to the rood of the car for a moment. “But three days later he was still by the baby’s bedside and he held him as he took his last breath.”

Her heart stopped, “oh my god!” her hand covered her mouth. “Poor Conor!”

Patrick touched her arm, “He’s not been keen on commitment since, which is why everyone has been so happy to see you here with him.”

Naomi could feel the tears rolling down her face as she felt physical pain on his behalf. How had he ever survived such a horrendous time? “But he was dancing with her...”

The look in Patrick’s eyes was enough, she knew Conor, she’d grown to know him over the last few months, he wasn’t a cad. This must’ve killed him, he’d never like or trust Orla again. Patrick then explained that Conor disappeared for months after people barely heard from him. It was only Simon’s injury that had dragged him away from his retreat.

 “Oh Conor!” her voice was a hoarse whisper. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the trauma he’d suffered.

Patrick half smiled, telling her this had been a huge risk, and he knew that Conor wouldn’t be exactly ecstatic with this. But this was a desperate time and it had called for desperate measures. “If you hated him you wouldn’t be this upset. Can’t you just understand, give him a chance? Please go and talk to him, don’t throw this away.”

                                                                                                                                                                                 

She was in a daze as she allowed him to lead her back into the castle, “I just need to clean myself up. I’m going to go upstairs, then I’ll go and find him.”

Naomi let herself into the room, as she was rooting through her bag for her makeup she heard a noise behind her.

She turned to see Conor emerging from the bathroom, his shirt and tie undone, his face dark and sad.

                “I thought you’d left.”

She shrugged, “if nothing else we have to work together next week, we need to get on.”

                “You have every reason to hate me. I hoped you wouldn’t see her...but she’s toxic,” He came towards her, “my mother doesn’t deserve any more pain, I hoped that I could manage the situation...but that meant dancing with her, tolerating her ways...I was trying to get rid of her, but she has skin like elephant hide.”

She touched his hand, “Patrick explained...about Orla I mean. All that happened. It would ruin most men. I just wish you’d told me. Shared that with me yourself. I really wish you’d let me in. But anyway, you got through it, that’s the main thing. We can get over this, we can still be friends.”

He gripped her fingers earlier, “He shouldn’t have told you that!”

                “No he shouldn’t, but you should have. You brought me into this lion’s den Conor, I had no idea of the role I was really playing, and that’s your fault. Saying that, it explains a lot, and I think I understand you a bit more now.”

Watching her intently it was a few long moments before he answered, “You misunderstood me earlier, outside. I haven’t been this close to anyone since Orla. I swore I’d never get involved again, never want more than casual acquaintances, I’ve been happy on my own for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever open up to anyone else. But you’re different; you’re making me question everything.”

She smiled, “I presume that’s a good thing, but we do need to start over again. Get to know each other, honestly. No lies, no hiding. Friends first.” She offered, “We need that, need to trust each other, be honest. Then maybe we can see where it goes.”

As she made to walk away he grabbed her hand, “but...”

                “What? We go back to as we were? Arguing fighting, and misunderstanding?” She shook her head, “no, we start over, from the beginning. Now come on, we need to get back to the party....”

Her words were lost as his lips landed on hers, any defence she had melted as their tongues met, and teeth grazed at each other. Her heart started to pound and warmth swept through her body. When they eventually separated they were both flushed, emotional...connected.

Finally lifting his head, Conor’s eyes met hers and seemed to penetrate her soul, “friends? I don’t think I can do that.” When her eyes widened with shock, he added, “Now Miss Young, tomorrow I will prove to you how much I trust you, and yes, I will accompany you back to the party.”

                “Good.” Ignoring her racing heart and jelly-like legs, she turned to make for the door but his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

                “But we can’t be just friends. If you feel about me the way that I feel about you, then the ball is in your court, because I have every need, desire and intention of taking you back to bed, but only when you say you are ready. I know you want me, as much as I want you. It’s just a matter of time. But we CAN’T be friends, it’s just not possible.”

He straightened his tie, his eyes never leaving hers, and when she finally tried to vocalise a reply, he silenced her with a finger placed over her lips. “You have to make the decision Naomi. All or nothing?” He opened the door out on to the corridor “come on!”

She was angry at his proposition; he’d dragged it back down to gutter level. She was more than sex. He still didn’t see that, still didn’t seem to see that she needed a commitment from him. She wasn’t talking marriage, hell no, but she needed to know that he was serious about her before she stepped back into the lion’s den.

They had been missed and a few knowing looks passed between the guests, “they think we’ve been making love!” he whispered in her ear. Her blush for a response only deepened the suspicions. “But more importantly, they need to know that her appearance has changed nothing. Come on!”

And with that he dragged her onto the dance floor. The band had long since finished, but a DJ was still playing tunes despite the lateness of the hour. The bride and groom had left for sunny climes whilst they’d been absent, so the crowds were beginning to thin as people also started to leave.

Dire Straits kicked in with Romeo and Juliet, and as he pulled her into his arms, Conor gave a wry smile then lowering his head he started to sing along to the song, the words a husky rasp against her ear.

                “A love struck Romeo, sings the streets a serenade, laying everybody low with a love song that he made...”

Naomi was fighting her inner turmoil. She was desperate for him really, her whole body quivered, from the breath at her ear to the hands splayed across her spine.

                “You’re the Romeo? Is that what you’re saying?” her voice was as husky as his to her own ears. “You’ve got a long way to go y’know!”

He waggled an eyebrow, “you think? We shall see!”

They were at the bar getting a drink when Patrick skulked over. Both of them smiled coyly.

                “So are you both speaking to me?” He asked feigning nervousness. When they nodded smiling, he added, “That’s good because Naomi I have had far too much to drink to be able to drive you anywhere!”

She shook her head in amazement, “so it was all a calculated risk?”

He nodded, “well I didn’t want to see you walk out on an argument! Con I love you like a brother, and for the first time you seemed to be putting the past behind you...I couldn’t let her involvement ruin things again.” There was no hiding the contempt he felt for Orla.

                “You always were an interfering bastard! Well then meddler, let me get you a drink!”

They separated and danced with various family members and friends, and it was on seeing Naomi dancing with his elderly grandfather that Conor felt and recognised that familiar tugging sensation in his chest.  Acting on impulse he marched across the room and leaned to whisper into her ear.

                “I think I love you Naomi Young!” He walked back as quickly as he came, leaving her staring in confusion and wonder over his grandfathers shoulder.

Cross the Line - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Naomi toyed with the idea of leaving, heading away from what had become hell on earth. But she was in the middle of nowhere, their flights back weren’t actually until early Monday morning, and the logistics of getting to the airport, changing her flights were all a little ridiculous, so she merely made for the bar and ordered a soft drink, needing time to clear her head.

Patrick smiled as he made across the room to her, “where’s the Con artist?”

She shrugged, “He was having some fresh air, too much champagne I think!”

Patrick nodded, “Lucinda’s the same, she’s headed off to the room for a nap, and freshen up. It’s a long old day!”

                “That sounds like a great plan. When you see Conor will you tell him I’m taking a rest? I’ll see you in a few hours.” He nodded as she walked away.

The outfit she’d worn all day was quite formal, so she was glad to slip it off and pull on a pair of loose training pants and a t-shirt she’d packed on a whim. Curling up in a Chesterfield chair in front of the fire she almost groaned in relief. It was a beautiful late summer’s day, but the castle rooms were chilly and she was glad of the gentle warmth that the fire gave and the calm almost serenity of the room. Rooting around in her holdall she found her Kindle and opened it to carry on reading the book she was halfway into, the latest Patricia Cornwell, about as exciting as her life had got up until the last few weeks.

She must’ve fallen asleep, because she opened her eyes and realised the Kindle had fallen in to her lap. She was tucked into the seat, with her legs throw over one of the arms. The fire was warm though and it was pleasant to wake up still relaxed. Then she glanced across the room to see the stone face expression of Conor sat there watching her. He’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, there were dark rings under his eyes and all in all he looked awful. Good! The unforgiving part of her muttered, he’d started this, changed everything.

                “You’re awake.” He offered.

                “Reluctantly!” she snapped back offering him her best glare.

Conor sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, “look I may not have the most tact on times, and I don’t think I cope very well with being on the back foot. I don’t think it was wrong to bring you here, but I realise that in some ways it was a lot for me to expect to go smoothly. Will you accept my apology?”

She was suddenly wrong footed. Angry she could deal with, in fact she relished it, but him here, being meek and amenable was much more difficult.

                “You treated me like shit Conor, after I did all this to help you out. I’m sorry if this is a difficult time for you, but as I keep saying, I am only here because you asked me.”

He nodded, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees, “I know. And it was fun...a lot more than fun until I decided to be a complete bastard. I understand that. Will you stay, be my date this evening? I promise to be on my best behaviour and to never speak to you like that again.”

She thought for a minute, “I’m realistically stuck here, but I could be awkward confine myself to this room, though that isn’t in my make up! I have one condition in this little agreement, that we have no more sex. Let’s make this what is always was. A business arrangement, me playing the part of your girlfriend. That is as far as it goes...Deal?”

Looking at her, strong and independent, there was a tug in the vicinity of his chest, which he ignored, instead he goaded her suggestion, “we’re two adults, I’m sure we can resist each other!” Waggling his eyebrow he laughed as he threw her own words back at her.

She changed into a plain black dress she’d packed it as an afterthought and was now glad she had. The formal day wear was too stuffy for a party, and after all this was a party she suddenly wanted to go to. They were in a great magical castle, and she had a handsome man who owed her BIG time. She was going to enjoy being the belle of the ball.

The dining room had been filled with yet another spectacular buffet, long tables laid with the finest delicacies, but it was the ballroom that caused Naomi to stop dead in her tracks. A fine net of tiny blinking white fairy lights hid the high ornamental ceiling, soft drapes edged the room, it was magical, and romantic, and beautiful.

Conor almost bumped into her, so rapid was her halt, but pausing for a moment, he looked into the room and saw what she saw.

                “Spectacular, hey?”

She nodded, “this castle never ceases to amaze me.  Is there nothing the staff can’t manage?”

His laugh was a low sexy rumble, “they are the best, I must admit.”  Glancing to the left he saw the still empty bar, “does our keeping our distance from each other relationship allow me to buy you a drink?”

Naomi turned and gave him her sexiest smile, “I do believe that you promised to pay for anything I want. And right now, what I REALLY want...” she placed a finger seductively over her lips as she paused for a moment. “...is a glass of champagne!”

Conor stood transfixed for a moment, this woman was more than under his skin, it scared him, no it terrified him. How could that one little gesture reduce him to a physical wreck? He knew what she was doing. This little act, the coy yet sexy siren was just that, an act to make him suffer for being such a bastard. And if the last five seconds were anything to go by, he was about to experience a meltdown.

As he handed her the requested glass of fizz, Conor froze. Coming across the room was Orla. His ex-wife, was here. Who the hell had invited her? Seeing his face pale, his eyes widen, Naomi followed his gaze to the doorway where a woman stood, a beautiful woman with alabaster skin and loosely curled red hair cascading around her shoulders, the curvy hourglass figure must’ve been poured into the staggering clinging dress, and for a moment Naomi thought of Jessica Rabbit.  

Instantly she knew this was Orla. The ex-wife.  No wonder he had no intention of getting into a relationship with her. The woman was sinfully beautiful.

Suddenly Conor’s hand linked with hers and squeezed. She heard the curse under his breath, then Seamus and Liam appeared from nowhere and the woman disappeared, hustled away from view.

                “Conor?”

He glanced down at Naomi at the sound of her concerned voice, “Here’s your champagne, err..I need to go a moment.”

And he was gone, hot on the heels of the beautiful woman.

Naomi took a deep breath and crossed the room to Conor’s family. No one could see the door from where they sat, so none of them knew that Conor had chased off after her, or even that Orla was there at all. Then Seamus arrived and pulled her on to the dance floor.

                “She wasn’t invited.” He offered as he spun her expertly around the dance floor. 

Naomi gulped, “but that was Orla!”

He nodded, “it’s hard here, our community is so close that really it would be hard NOT to invite her. But Conor insisted. He even called her personally...to tell her she wasn’t welcome. But she is thick-skinned...he’s sent her away but he wanted to make sure that you weren’t alone. He’s not very good at managing personal things, he shouldn’t have worried we had things in hand.”

She relaxed into Seamus’ arms hoping that his words were true. Then she spotted Conor in the distance, back at the bar, talking to Liam. The vixen was long gone.

It had been a strange evening, and the brazen appearance of Orla had completely unsettled him. Thankfully Liam and Seamus had kept their heads and stepped into deal with both his ex-wife, and Naomi. An hour later Conor was still shaking his head; he’d had to endure the sight of Naomi dancing with each of his brothers, a couple of uncles, one of his best friends, and now his grandfather. Each time she glanced his way she gave him the sweetest smile, then disappeared from view, she only returned for a drink. He felt...used. The irony! And now he really needed to talk to her, explain about earlier. He owed her a lot of explanations, he knew that much.  

Eventually he could take no more, and knowing that his grandfather was anything but a fast mover, he crossed the dance floor and intercepted.

                “Can I have this dance Pops?”

As his grandfather started to nod, Naomi feigned shock, “oh how sweet wanting to dance with you Grandpa!”

Conor ensnared her wrist and pulled her into his arms, “ha ha!” Moving expertly across the floor, he led her to a quieter corner.  “So you’re playing with fire Miss Young?”

She leaned back in his arms and closed her eyes, “fire? No, I’m just having fun, for a change!”

                “I wanted to explain...”

Naomi shook her head, “I don’t need to hear anything. Let’s just dance.” And it was the truth. No one had a good word to say about the glamorous woman who’d only briefly appeared earlier, and Conor had chosen to be here, with her. At the moment, that was enough.

Sighing, Conor pulled her close, the words of explanation dying on his lips. Instead he held her and guided her gracefully to the music. And so began the most torturous five minutes of his life. She rubbed up against him, her delicious body pressing against him in just the right way, literally pushing all his buttons. But each time he swept down to try and kiss her, to release some of the desire and passion she was suddenly stirring, she evaded him, gave the odd tut, reminded him rather patronisingly that this was a non sexual relationship.

He groaned as he tried to stifle his quite obvious excitement, he regretted his words to her earlier, at the time he’d thought that he wanted nothing further from her, but that had changed somewhere...and he been punished enough already, hadn’t he? “Naomi! Please? I can’t take anymore!”

She smiled, a knowing smile, “you are the one who wants to compartmentalise this relationship. It’s not my fault if the memories of last night and the closeness of this dance are turning you on beyond reprieve!” Secretly Naomi was loving the effect she was having on him.

                “Ok! You win! I’ll be whatever you want; this can be whatever you want it to be!”

Suddenly she felt cold, and as he saw her pained eyes he realised he’s said the wrong thing again. “What is it? What have I said wrong?”

She smiled as tears welled in her eyes, “nothing Conor...just nothing!”

In truth she felt awful. This was what their ‘relationship’ resorted to, sex. The promise of more made him agree to anything, but that had an almost prostitute feel about it. Shaking her head, she rested her forehead against his chest and allowed him to finish the dance. When had it all turned so ugly? A few days ago they’d been happy colleagues, but now? Now she didn’t know what they were anymore.

Conor didn’t know what he’d said wrong, but suddenly that too familiar frosty Naomi was back, and he was sick and tired of the erratic nature of this woman. He’d had his fill of awkward women, and Orla turning up here tonight only made him realise that all the more. Nope, he was a confirmed bachelor, and not even sexy Naomi could change his resolve.  As the song finished, he dropped her hands and headed for the bar.

Naomi glanced over and fumed. Abandoned so obviously on the dance floor was embarrassing. She realised that she had blown both hot and cold during the dance, but she wanted a sign, a hint that she was more than the temporary fling he’d hinted at. She stalked to the veranda, her paces too harsh to be a walk and inhaled deeply. She’d had enough of this game. She now knew she couldn’t be the casual affair, that she cared more about herself than that. She’d never done it, and she had no intention of starting now. But the only other option was to leave. To abandon his weekend, the way he’d left her in front of everyone. She sighed, as much as that seemed like an obvious plan, she’d have to work with him come Monday, and she wasn’t sure that she could.

Shaking her head in desperation she slumped into a chair, resigned to her no win situation. Naomi had to admit to herself that the thought of him hurting her caused a pain in her chest, a physical pain, but it was nowhere near the pain that the thought of never seeing him created. She’d never in her life wanted someone, something as much as she wanted him, a future.

Groaning she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. It was decision time, walk away, preserve what little control and self respect that remained, or stay and risk losing what little she had left, because if this fell apart, then she could be risking everything. If she couldn’t work with Conor, then she’d lose her job and Simon and Steph...

Taking a deep breath Naomi stood and decided to confront the World, and more importantly Conor head on. Striding as fast as she could in her heels, she made for the ballroom. Opening she door she could feel an instant tension, all eyes were glued on the dance floor, and she followed the lead and almost froze. Swaying to the music was Conor...and wrapped around him, gazing adoringly into his eyes, was Orla!

Holiday!

Sorry all!


I've been away for a few days and thought I'd have Internet access...and I didn't! Not even for my phone. Will be posting a few quick chapters to make up, I promise! Hope you haven't all given up on me! :)


MZ

Cross the line - 11

Chapter 11

The wedding as predicted was no small family affair, it seemed half of the county had been invited. As they made their way down the aisle of the chapel to find their seats many faces turned to smile, wave and be acquainted with Conor. Naomi truly felt like the accessory on his arm. Michael was stood in a Morning suit, Paul his best man trying to calm his nerves, but to Naomi’s eyes he really did look flighty.

Then the organ struck up the Bridal March and all eyes turned to the rear of the building where Louise stood. Naomi had only very briefly met the bride the night before, and the radiant, beautiful woman who glided down the aisle was a million miles from the woman she remembered.

A thin veil covered her thick dark hair which hung free around her shoulders, but the dress was everything Naomi imagined a wedding dress should be, a tight strapless body with a full skirt that managed to avoid looking like a giant meringue and instead looked feminine and breathtaking.

She turned to Conor and whispered, “she looks absolutely stunning!”

                “All brides do,” he hissed a response before turning to look at his brother who was mesmerised by the sight of his bride.

Naomi sensed the animosity in his words but merely took a deep breath and also faced the front of the church. Presumably he was remembering the infamous Orla who he never discussed, but was presumably a beautiful bride.

They watched the service, Louise and Michael were so obviously devoted to each other. Outside the building they were covered in confetti, rice, flower petals as they emerged, and then stood radiant as a barrage of photos were taken by all and sundry. The happy couple went off into the gardens for more photos and poses, the rest of the congregation made their way back to the imposing and impressive castle.

Naomi found she was following the still frosty Conor around the reception room like some sort of lapdog, and she was less than impressed. But she did appreciate how difficult this occasion was for him. The expectation from his family obviously weighed heavily on his shoulders. Saying that, Naomi was pleased that she settled so easily into conversation with the people who crossed their path. Plus, the canapés being served by dozens of waiters were exceptional and champagne was continually appearing in her glass.

                “Are you trying to get me drunk Mr O’Neill?” she asked as her glass was yet again refilled.

He laughed, leaning close to her to whisper, “do I need to?”

She shrugged, so glad that he had finally seemed to relax and become the Conor she’d come here with.  “I wasn’t drunk last night!”

He tugged her chin around to face him, then planted an affectionate kiss of her lips, “but I think you intoxicated me!” The look that followed his words drove her body wild, hot and FULL of promise.

Taking her hand he led her across the room to meet some other school friends.

They sat to dinner sharing a table with his siblings, it gave Naomi a chance to recap on everyone’s names, it still confused her. By now the seven nieces and nephews were also in attendance, and each worshipped Conor, rushing over to throw their arms around his neck. He was brilliant with them too, and that warmed Naomi’s heart. Each one relished the chance to bask in his attention, and he took time and effort to speak to and play with them all in great depth. Every time one approached he made a grand effort to introduce her, and whilst they were all polite, they only had eyes for Uncle Con!

After a virtual feast of delicious soup, beef and perfectly cooked vegetables followed by the lightest white chocolate mousse known to man, Naomi needed a break. She’d both drunk and eaten more than was recommended, and with Conor’s mood being rather unpredictable, knew that she needed a break from him. A little time away.

So she excused herself from the table and headed to the bathroom. After freshening up and catching her breath, she made for the bar that skirted the dining room. A few people were scattered around the room talking. Ordering a soda water, she headed out onto the veranda and sat in the fresh air.

Conor was struggling to control his emotions, today had been such a difficult day. A lot of people he’d spoken to that day he’d not seen since his own wedding...to Orla. He shook his head, even the thought of her name set his teeth on edge, and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Everyone there looked at him with such pity, as though the breakup of his marriage was such a sad thing, a tragic end to such a promising relationship. Only the end wasn’t tragic. He hated his ex wife with every inch of his being, yet everyone here thought that an innocent tragedy tore them apart. If only it was something so obvious!

Conor had to deal with his own anger, his mixed emotions, and was initially glad for some time to brood, but after a while he realised that Naomi hadn’t returned. Half an hour later, he found her talking to Lucinda, “you ok? You’re about to miss the speeches, both of you!”

Taking the offered hand, Naomi smiled, bade a goodbye then allowed Conor to lead her back into the dining room. They’d barely sat when there was a click of a spoon on a wine glass and the packed room silenced almist immediately. After the bride’s father, Michael spoke. The whole room gushed as he thanked everyone for coming on behalf of his wife and himself, and then brimmed with emotional tears at using the term ‘wife’ for the first time. He eventually composed himself and thanked Louise’s family for providing him with such a beautiful wife, and then he picked Conor out acriss the room.

                “Love can be free, but a wedding such as today isn’t. And neither family could have provided the enormity of today if it wasn’t for my wonderful brother. Conor O’Neill is a selfless and generous man, he puts others happiness before himself, and I am more than proud to call him my brother. Thanks Con!”

He raised a glass and drank in honour of his brother before continuing his speech, and Naomi reached out and squeezed Conor’s hand in support. With a grunt he pulled his hand free and turned away from her. For Naomi it was the final straw, he was hot, then cold...it was like sitting with a stroppy teenager.

As the last speech finished, Naomi stood and left the room. He infuriated her SO much. He was the most exciting man she’d ever met, she’d never wanted a man with such a raw hunger as she did for this man, but she deserved more respect than he was bestowing her with, and that annoyed her more than anything else. In the bar she ordered a whisky, straight, and had downed it in one shot as she felt Conor approach.

“Do you want to come for a stroll with me?” he asked, holding out a hand.

Turning to face him she shrugged, “I suppose so.”

If he sensed her anger he hid it well as he led her out of the building.  The castle gardens were huge, but well groomed, comprising of terraces above a boating lake. They wandered for a few minutes before he stopped at a bench with a fantastic view of the sprawling countryside.

                “I wanted us to talk before we get carried away with the evening.”

She looked up at him suddenly concerned, “so talk away.”

He lifted a stray tendril of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, “well. I know I may not be the best company at the moment. The last wedding I came to here, in Ireland was my own. And that was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, I’m not comfortable here, and I know the memories it’s conjuring up are making me grouchy.”

She looked at him for a moment, “ok, you had a disastrous end to your marriage. That’s not my fault, and I’m the only one you’re being horrible too. I’ve come here at your request. Is it fair that you treat me like this?”

He had the good grace to look po-faced at that suggestion, “I don’t intend to be like this.”

                “Was it that bad a marriage that you’d ruin your brother’s day?”

Conor glared at her, fire in his eyes, his mouth a hard line, “I’ve gone out of my way to make this the best day for them both...”

                “But it failed to exorcise those demons?” She had a sudden attack of sympathy, for such a strong minded man he seemed to be really wrestling with his past.

He sighed, “I was happy, really happy. But she...I wasn’t enough for her. She had an affair, and I won’t tolerate that.”

Naomi reached for his hand, “you were unlucky, not everyone has that heartbreak...”

Nodding he eventually turned to her, “I know, it doesn’t mean I can watch my brother marry a woman and not worry about where it will end up.”

She found the concerned almost coy Conor a treat, he was usually so masterful so determined, but now, he was vulnerable, unsure...human. This was the side of him she’d wanted to see.

                “Isn’t it better to have loved and lost...and all that?”

He shook his head, “sentiment and bullshit. She was a bitch who took me for a ride, I won’t fall for it again! End of story.  I enjoyed last night, and I enjoy your company, more than I ever thought I would, but I do need you to know how things are before we go any further. I’m not ready for deep and meaningful, and I swore I’d never marry again. I want to see you, but don’t think I can offer anything more.”


Snap! Mr Split Personality changed once again! “What makes you think I’m looking for more?” This had all come out of the blue, and her anger was mounting. She had come here open minded, was the least likely to be the clingy woman he was talking about, comparing her to.

“Isn’t that what all women want? A man with money to marry them, look after them?”

               

She was shocked and quite insulted, “you presumptuous bastard! Who the hell are you to talk to me like that? You may be a cynical bastard because some woman got the better of you, but that DOES NOT give you the right to speak to me like this, or treat me like some cheap whore.”

Standing she looked down at him, still indignant, “I cannot believe you can cheapen me like that! Call yourself a friend!”

Conor stood to face her, “It’s not like that, I like you, a lot!”

                “Ha!” she huffed, “If you had an ounce of respect for me then you’d not have said one of those words to me. I came here as a favour to you, and yes, we ended up having sex. Get over it! You might be the greatest catch that County Roscommon has to offer, but I can assure you I am not at the front of that queue! You are presuming that I ACTUALLY want more than just this weekend fling, aren’t you? Well you might thing that if you shower me with cash and gifts in lieu of a commitment I don’t even want, that I want to marry you...then you are a millin miles off the mark. If you’re after an old fashioned mistress, then I suggest you look elsewhere.” She stood up a hand on her head, “I knew what you were really like and yet I still let this happen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are one of life’s takers Conor, everything your way, I knew that before you waltzed into my life, and still I let you in, allowed you to take liberties!”

She stood to walk away when he grabbed her arm, “Naomi! It’s not like that, I’m not like that! We sorted out the Maisy thing, didn’t we? I’ve been nothing but courteous to you, and generous. I’m sorry that I said what I did....”

She held up a hand to silence him, “I should’ve stuck with my instincts and never gone near you. I believed you over Maisy because I thought you were a good man. Now I don’t know! You make me sick!”

He grabbed both arms and pulled her towards him, “what did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”

She shook her head, “the last five minutes were more than enough.” Before he could object she headed for the door as fast as her shoes would carry her.

Cross the Line - 10

Chapter - 10

It was almost pitch black without the light, the only glow was from the dying fire, and it only served to heighten Naomi’s senses. At some point this evening she knew she wanted him, even if it was just for this weekend. No one had ever gone to such great lengths to make her feel at home, protected, and wanted, and she’d loved being part of this great family, that was something she’d missed more than anything.

Feeling the bed dip next to her as he climbed in, her heart started to race, consciously she tried to slow her breathing, stay in control.

                “You ok?” she offered.

                “Yep!” he answered over brightly, and she could feel him tug the covers over himself. But as he rolled onto his side, his bare hair covered thigh brushed against her smooth one.

They both gasped, and he slid away from her to the edge of the bed as though he’d been scalded, “sorry!”

                “It was one of those things,” she said softly, immediately missing the warmth that the jolt of contact had caused to whizz through her body.

                “Even so, I am sorry, I didn’t bring you here to pounce on you!” His voice was flat in the darkness.

She sensed an opportunity “is it that repulsive a thought?”

                “You know it isn’t. But I promised...” he froze as her hand touched his chest, her fingers splaying wide through the hair she found there, revelling in the sensation of firm muscles. “Naomi...” his voice was filled with warning, but his body was already betraying his resolve, even as he spoke he was turning towards her, greedily.

                “We are both adults Conor. But if you don’t want to....” Smiling deviously to herself, she elaborately made to turn away from him when she felt two arms slide around her waist and pull her back in to his embrace. His mouth was urgent and passionate as it first found, then devoured hers, his tongue delving into her mouth, seeking hers to tease and touch.

Naomi’s breath was a rasp, her heart hammering, at the extreme responses her teasing had caused; and as she managed to moan her pleasure, she felt him grow against her thigh, and still his tongue plundered her mouth, ravaging her and driving her wild. The kisses were prolonged, deep and very passionate, an assault to the senses and a savage battle of mouths.  Naomi moaned as she found that she was wrapping her body around his, craving more contact.

The darkness made their other senses come alive, and she felt a confidence that she had never possessed before as she pushed him over on to his back, breaking the kiss to taste and lick his jaw, his neck, down to his collar bone. Moving astride him, she found a nipple with her teeth and his groan was a growl from the depths of his chest. He tolerated a few seconds of her nibbling and kissing before he pushed her away, turning her over onto her back, towering above her.

Conor’s fingers touched her nose, splaying to run down to the softness of her lips, a sensitive moment in the throes of passion, she tried to bite, to ensnare a teasing tip, but he evaded her, stroking her cheek, down her neck devouring every inch of skin. His mouth followed his fingers, and Naomi’s head rolled back on the pillow at the sensation of him finding her hard nipple through the soft cotton of her skimpy vest, his tongue and lips making the fabric wet, but her body responded enthusiastically, her body arching up into his mouth. His other hand found the curve of her breast, the opposite nipple and played with it gently. She was melting, wanting to absorb him into her, clawing at him, wanting him inside her, over her...everywhere.

Within moments he sat up, “I can’t cope with this!” He sprung out of bed, and Naomi gasped, immediately thinking he was regretting his move. “I can’t see you!” He almost snarled, sensing her confusion, as he rushed to switch on the bathroom light, the open doorway cast a glow across the room, enough that she could see him approaching, and how excited he was.

Sitting up, she pulled him towards her, and they were kissing again, biting, grazing, furiously trying to turn each other inside out. She ran her hands down his body to sit at his waist, her legs wrapped around him and pulled him closer between her parted thighs. As he groaned, she lowered her hands and pushed his boxer shorts down over his hips, watching in the half light as he sprung free.  

Pausing, she pulled  back to look at him briefly, before lowering her head to kiss first his naval, her tongue teasing his sensitised flesh, then lower again, until she could take him, all of him, in her mouth. He swayed unable to control the heat racing through his body. He managed to tolerate a few seconds before he pushed her back onto the bed, climbing after her to kneel astride her body.

Conor stripped her in seconds, his hands massaged her breasts, tweaking at her nipples, then he was cupping her buttocks, teasing her inner thighs. Her excitement was growing with every second, she was lifting herself, spreading her legs further and further apart, her body craving his touch, and then he was there. First fingers, then tongue, teasing, touching. As she started to buck against him, he stepped away, and she realised he was rifling through his jacket, a condom located, he turned back to her. She groaned as he filled her, then rose to meet his every move he made, and heading towards his own climax he used his fingers to tease her even further. When he felt her start to convulse around him, he let go and reached his own finale, driving into her in long, hard yet furious strokes, until they collapsed against each other.

Conor could barely move, so he stayed put for a while, still inside her, enjoying both that, and the feeling of her arms around him teasing the sensitive flesh on his spine, her lips and tongue nipping occasionally to tease his ear or the corner of his lips.

                “That was wild!” he finally offered sliding off her.

                “Mmmm” she curled into his shoulder, loving the feel of his arms around her. She couldn’t really formulate anymore than that for a moment. Whilst her body and heart calmed down from the heights of passion, she didn’t trust herself to speak. There were far too many emotions surging around her brain, most of them incriminating!

                “Don’t think you can get away with sleeping now Ms Young!” he raised his head to look down at her, craning to make out the dazed eyes, dishevelled hair and thoroughly kissed lips.

She chuckled, “I have been up since five am this morning, I need a little sleep!”

He half nodded as he kissed her shoulder, “you seem to make me insatiable Naomi.” His hands were already roaming all over her.

                “Again? Already?” His only answer was to tease her into submission.

It was ten in the morning when she finally opened her eyes; she was draped around Conor, her face tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her. As she moved gently, he stirred, pulling her closer to him.

                “Are you trying to escape?” the words breathed against her forehead were said in jest but loaded with insecurity. And she knew she had woken up and thought about escaping, retreating to lick her wounds and decipher what this all meant...alone.

She smiled, leaning back to look at him, “no, I was just wondering about breakfast, we are on a strict time agenda after all.” Naomi sounded confident to her own ears, and Conor sighed against her scalp.

Opening one eye he glanced at the clock, then with a groan threw an arm over his eyes, “God woman, you have rendered me useless!”

                “That wasn’t hard!” she announced as she wriggled out of his arms.

Laughing he watched her saunter across to the bathroom, and he was unable to stop himself following her into the shower where after the most erotic soaping of her life, she let him take her again.

He ordered room service breakfast and they shared croissants with jam and coffee, sat on the huge four poster bed, then needed to shower again. Naomi tried to keep them on track, but the continued amorous advances of Conor seemed to delay everything as they got ready for the wedding. Finally dressed in the stylish dress and jacket, hair coiffed, make up on, she made for the bathroom, Conor had disappeared in there a while ago, and they were beginning to look unlikely to make the one pm service.

He was stood at the sink in just his trousers, his face half covered in shaving foam, razor in hand. She leaned against the door frame and gave a dramatic sigh, “we’re going to be late Mr O’Neill!”

Conor caught her reflection in the mirror and groaned. Yet again she amazed him, with her demure yet classy suit, conservative hair, she looked prim, proper and extremely edible. Visions of the previous night flashed through his head, and he instantly wanted a repeat, all over again. With a single minded vision, he turned and stalked the few steps towards her.

As he reached for her she stepped back, “I can see your mind is in the gutter Mr O’Neill! We have got half an hour to arrive before the bride.”

                “I just want a kiss,” he reached for her, but she twisted free of his grasp.

                “One kiss will ruin my makeup, and maybe my dress. Nope. Dress Sir, or I shall have to go to the ball alone!”

Her words were overdramatically serious, but hey eyes lit with humour, she was finding him as difficult to resist, and loved that he was so...enamoured by her appearance. She’d never believed that she could drive a man mad, but she did seem to be bringing out the unpredictable in him.