Warning: Explicit content. Reader discretion advised.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice made Isabel jump. Looking behind, she found Brandon’s eyes trained on her, a deep frown on his brow. She had not heard him enter the barn, and her cheeks flushed at being caught.

“Why are you here?” Rising from the floor, she discreetly tugged at her long-sleeve dress. Brandon’s gaze rolled across her form, settling on the strands of hay stuck in her tights and in her hair. When his eyes returned to her face, she shifted uncomfortably.

“This is my family barn,” he explained, crossing his arms. “There’s a storm brewing and I wanted to check on the horses.” An eyebrow arched at her. “What are you doing here at this time?”

“Killian brought me here,” she answered, referring to his five-year-old nephew. “He wanted to play.”

Brandon did a quick survey of his surroundings. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He left with his dad a while ago.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to stay.”

With a small sigh, he looked at the roof. The first raindrops had started to pour. “I heard you reading to Carlton Diamond,” he said. “Seriously?”

The biggest horse at the stable glanced at him in askance, then proceeded to ignore him. Isabel bit her lip, her face turning redder. It had seemed like a good idea since horses could not point out how abysmal her Irish was.

“I’m sorry.” She picked up her notebook from the hay. “I can go.”

“No.” Shaking his head, he uncrossed his arms. “There’s no way you can make it home through the storm. You’ll either be hit by lightning or get blown away.”

For a small second, she looked nervous. She was certain Elsa would worry about her. She had forgotten to bring her phone along, as usual.

“You can call your family from my house.” Brandon offered, as though reading her mind. Unzipping his rain jacket, he stepped closer. “Here, you need this.”

“I don’t mind the rain.”

“You’re not used to roughing it.” He put the jacket around her shoulders. Helpless, Isabel slid her arms into the sleeves and allowed him to lift the hood. “If you get drenched, you’re sure to be ill.”

Before she knew it, he was taking her hand and dragging her out of the barn. “We have to make a dash, alright?” he warned but her attempt to keep pace with him had robbed her of the ability to nod. It was a little past three in the afternoon but the dark sky and blinding rain made it seem much later.

They reached the house in a minute. When a bolt of lightning lit up the living room, she realised they were the only ones there.

“Where are your parents?” she asked, watching Brandon shake the water out of his hair.

“Visiting friends.” Turning on the lights, he kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen. “They aren’t going to be back until later.”

“Oh.” Isabel shrugged out of the rain jacket and hung it out to dry. In the kitchen, she saw Brandon wiping himself with a towel, his t-shirt clinging to his torso and highlighting every curve and sinew of his body. The grooming had given him a slightly polished appearance. His muscles were firmer now, his cheeks chiselled, and the cleft in his chin more pronounced. Her stomach suddenly tightened.

“Are you going to make the call or do you want me to do it?” His query made her flinch. Tearing her gaze from his soaked clothing, she met his eyes.

“I can do it,” she nodded. Brandon gestured at the phone and made his way toward the stairs.

“I’ll change out of these clothes and be right back,” he called out, footsteps thudding up the narrow stairway. The floors creaked above her as she made the call, doing her best to not imagine Brandon stripping himself. She told Emily that she was at the Carlton Lodge and would return home once the skies cleared. Her aunt sounded relieved. What better moment to be stuck together than a dark and stormy evening, right?

Wrong.

Isabel dreaded storms. If there was anyone Brandon loathed to pass a storm with, it was his girlfriend. His sweet, stubborn girlfriend, who was sitting on his parents’ sofa and picking out hay from her clothes. Every time lightning tore through the sky, she stiffened and looked around in numb horror, then blocked her ears with her fingers as thunder roared.

“Do you want any tea?” he asked, rounding the corner to return to the kitchen. “I’m making a pot.”

“I’m okay.” The words were stiff. He looked over his shoulder to find her nervously twisting a strand of hay between her fingers and dreading the next bolt of lightning. He shook his head.

“You’re cold. And afraid.” Lighting the stove, he put on the teapot. “You need something to soothe your nerves.”

“And making tea is the best you can do?”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Then let me tell you how Louis almost killed us last night. That will distract you.”

“What?” Isabel gasped. “How?”

“While dropping us home.” He waited until the water had boiled over before adding the tea and turning off the stove. When he walked over to the sofa, Isabel moved to make room for him. “First stop was Nathan. Louis said, ‘I don’t know the north side of Dublin very well but I’ll drop you home’.”

Isabel chuckled at his hilariously accurate impression of their manager. “I don’t know if I ever told you,” he continued. “But he has a red Jeep Wrangler, an American car with left-hand drive. So he was driving to where Nathan lives in Malahide and we approached a busy roundabout with massive oncoming traffic, and like I said, his car is a left-hand drive. We saw the bright lights coming towards us from the other side and we thought he would stop. But he just kept going, right into the traffic. And we started screaming, ‘LOUIS!’ He looked at us and went, ‘What? I told you I don’t know the north side of Dublin too well!’”

He sank back in the sofa and echoed Isabel’s laugh. “Yeah, scared the wits out of us.”

“Still better than the time Mark’s dad was driving you lot to Dublin for your first performance with Boyzone and the road was an ice-skating rink.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned. “What was supposed to be an hour’s drive took us five hours. Every time the car slipped around we thought we were going to crash and die.”

Her head rolled onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I should have gone home sooner.”

“I don’t mind having you here.” He tucked her head under his chin, reaching out to pick a strand of hay from her hair. “I only came home last night and wanted to see you so bad, but ended up sleeping the whole day.”

Brandon smiled. “So you’re running the chip counter now, huh?”

She gave him a fleeting glance. “It’s a good distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

“Everything.” She swallowed hard. “School, only two months to Leaving Cert, going back to London for college, not having you around…”

He breathed out, his throat tight. “I noticed you cleaned my room. Took me thirty minutes this morning to find my socks.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No… not at all.” He slid an arm around her. “I’m sorry about being gone. Maybe we will get to be together more often when you’re in London.”

“Louis won’t like that,” she said, starting when lightning and thunder boomed at the same time, nearly making the house shake while the windows rattled. Brandon shook his head.

“He was asking about you the other day.”

“About me?” Isabel lifted her head to stare at him. “Why?”

“Maybe because I talk about you all the time.” Brandon tilted her face up to his. “Maybe I will convince you to stay the night when I have an apartment in London. I will even drive you to college whenever I’m available. I can also teach you how to drive if you want.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, his stomach in knots. “You have no idea how badly I miss you when I’m not here.”

“Now you see why I work at the restaurant?” she said, trying and failing to break the gaze. He had the sweetest face she had ever seen on a man, the calmest, kindest eyes, and every time he smiled, it reminded her of the open, genuine soul that resided inside him. “It makes me feel closer to you when you’re away.”

“You do it pretty well, though,” he nodded, his thumb stroking her cheek. His mother and sisters rambled on about how good she was in the kitchen and how people had begun to see her in a different light. It made his heart soar.

Six months since her performance at the Hawks Well Theatre, she had made great strides. Her walls had started to break down, she had less mistrust of people, and they found her smiling and talking more easily. Perhaps his mother’s crisps had also finally had some effect on her, because she was no longer waifish. Her dark circles were gone, her face had a healthy glow, and even though she was still underweight, the curves of her body were more pronounced. Every time he set his eyes on her now, he saw the luscious woman hiding behind the scared, awkward girl all this while.

And it did something chemical to him. Something he had never felt for another girl.

“You’re not mad that I took over your role at the restaurant?” she murmured, big, doe eyes searching his face. He laughed.

“Mad? I always worried how Mam and Dad would manage without me.” He rested his forehead against hers, drawing her closer. “With you here, I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Besides, you’re a star now,” she added. “Running the chip counter or waiting tables don’t suit you.”

“This is me home, Izzi. It’s all I knew until the band happened.” His mouth lowered and hesitantly grazed her lips until a clap of lightning had her burying her face in his shoulder. His arms came around her.

“It’s alright,” he soothed. “It won’t hurt you.”

“I hate it,” she grumbled.

“But I’m here with you.” He cupped her face again. When his lips met hers, it was without any trace of hesitation. She arched into him, opening her mouth to let his tongue court hers, impatient and insistent. Brandon pulled away with a gasp when she reached for the evidence of his arousal.

“What are you doing?” he asked, giving her a questioning stare. Isabel’s hand returned to her, a tad embarrassed, a tad guilty.

“Remember what you told me that day in the woods?” She closed her eyes when the memory came alive in her mind. They had gone riding together through Hazelwood during his last visit home, for the first time on separate horses. Things had become too heavy between them during a stroll, hands exploring, mouth plundering, hips grinding. Brandon had stopped them with the promise that he was going to wait until she was ready, no matter how long it took.

“Yes…” He swallowed, his heart hammering louder than the storm outside. “What about it?”

“I’m ready,” she spoke in a rush. When she opened her eyes, his face reflected stunned surprise. “What?”

He failed to answer. Even when thunder rippled through the house, he did not flinch. “You know what you’re talking about, right?” he stuttered, taken aback by her candour. Isabel nodded.

“I can’t bear this anymore,” she whispered. “Every day that I’m apart from you, I…”

Her face flamed as she trailed off and looked away, unable to believe she was making that admission. Brandon held her face again, perusing her beauteous countenance.

“What?” he urged. “Tell me, Izzi.”

“I…” She scrunched her eyes. “I touch myself until I’m biting the pillow and tearing up.”

The words and the mental image they presented hit him with a flood of heat below the belt, and he felt himself turning harder than he already was. It was no different for him, although he had never admitted it. He had wanted to wait until she was strong again, until he had her explicit consent. After that moment in the woods, he had realised that she wanted him as much as he wanted her but had not expected her to be so candid about her desire.

“It’s a big thing, you know,” he said, taking back his hand. She gaped at him.

“You… you don’t want me?”

“I think you can see right here how much I want you,” he sighed. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“And I need you just as much.” It was indeed a big step, one that would change the tenor of their relationship. But she felt ready for it, now more than ever.

“It’s easy to say that.” He held her hand between his palms. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I don’t regret anything that’s ever happened between us.” She frowned, her hand tensing in his. “Do you regret being with me?”

“You know very well I don’t,” he emphasised. “I just want you to be sure about this. You don’t have to make a hasty decision.”

“What makes you think I haven’t considered it before today?” She squeezed his hand. “That’s all I thought while you were gone.”

“You did?” he sniggered, raising his eyebrows. “Tell me what you thought.”

Her shoulders sagged. “We don’t have much time,” she groused. “Stop teasing me and get serious before your parents return.”

“They won’t be back soon.” Quickly glancing at the clock, he smiled. “They weren’t supposed to be back until seven, but the storm might hold them off for longer.”

He traced her cheek with his index finger, before moving to her lips. When she opened her mouth and bit his fingertip, he yelped.

“And I was under the impression that you’re the sweetest, purest, most innocent thing in the world,” he smirked. Isabel’s mouth curved wryly.

“I’m not that innocent, Brandy,” she rued. “I’ve experienced things I wish no one ever has to.”

She reached for his lips again. “But I don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

“You were never hiding from me.”

“You haven’t seen what lies underneath my clothes.”

“It cannot change my love for you.” He kissed her forehead. “Do you trust me?”

“It’s funny you should ask that. You’re the first person I ever trusted.”

He claimed her mouth again, and Isabel let out a small hum of delight, shifting until she was almost on his lap. Brandon grabbed her legs and pulled them on either side of hips, one hand on her waist and the other inside her hair. When she pressed against his erection, he felt her wet heat through the tights.

“For the last time,” he breathed. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.” Her arms circled his neck. “Make me yours. Forever.”

The confidence in her affirmation freed him from the last fragment of restraint. He swiftly scooped her up and headed for the stairs. Isabel did not protest. She’d rather like to do it in his bed. The same bed she had fantasised doing it in while tidying his room.

The thought made her laugh inside her head. Six months ago, she was shy and reclusive, afraid of facing each day. Since the concert at Hawks Well Theatre, something had changed in her. Maybe it was the realisation that she was indeed safe and secure or maybe it was the charm of Sligo growing on her. Or maybe it was the bliss of being in love with Brandon and his devotion towards her. They spent every minute together when he came home, and regardless of where in the world he was, he called her daily and sent a million messages, incapable of keeping anything from her. She heard from him at the oddest hours, rambling on about who he met or what happened in the studio or the long day filming a music video or the erratic schedule playing merry hell with his bowels.

Isabel was no longer uncertain about their relationship. Despite the envy and loathing of other girls, she had learned to ignore the demeaning comments and cherish what they had together. She loved him, belonged with him. Nothing else mattered.

They were kissing again before he even put her down or shut the door behind him. He pressed her against the door, tracing the shape of her waist with one hand and turning the lock into place with the other. Isabel threw a leg across his hip, and he slid his hands under her buttocks to pull her onto himself.

“Nervous?” he asked. She shook her head. “Well, I am.”

“Why should you be nervous?”

He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in the dark room. “You’re the only girl I will make love to for the rest of my life. What if I botch up our first time and you never let me touch you again?”

“You cannot botch up anything,” she giggled.

“I hope not.” Bringing her hands to his lips, he kissed each of her knuckles. “I’ve never been this close to anyone.”

She grabbed his arm when he attempted to turn on a light. “I like it dark,” she whispered.

“I want to see you.” He flicked the switch to bathe the room in a dim glow. “And I want you to see everything that I do to you.”

A knot of fear suddenly formed inside her. He had broken down all her walls, save that one. The only existing barrier between them was her clothes. “What if you don’t want this anymore once I’m naked?” she blurted without thinking. Brandon peeled her from the door and turned her around, pressing her back to his strong chest.

“We have to get you naked first, right?” he purred, moving her hair aside to kiss her neck. She stiffened when he found the buttons of her dress. “Can I undress you?”

She nodded. “Relax,” he said, deftly unfastening each button. “It’s just you and I here. I swear nothing that happens between us will leave this room.”

He kissed down her neck as the dress gaped, slowly pushing the garment off her shoulders to reveal prominent pink scars on her back and upper arms, crisscrossing her otherwise unblemished skin like a grim roadmap of her past. Her arms fell to her sides as he turned her towards him, letting the dress slide down her chest, past her hips, and down to her ankles.

Brandon’s mouth went dry like sandpaper. Since Pentoniac happened, he had seen scantily clad dancers, models, and reporters up close more times than should be comfortable. But the sight of Isabel in only a pink bra left him breathless. As slender and small as she was, her pert, ample breasts, narrow waist, and full hips lent her a perfect hourglass shape, her skin dewy and luminous.

The thought that he would get to cherish that body for all of his life made him pulse with need.

“My god,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re stunning.”

Isabel lifted her face, her eyes moist. “You like what you see?”

“Uh-uh.” He ran the back of his fingertips down her upper arms, dipping his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I love what I see.”

She shuddered when his hot breath ghosted her tingling skin. “You don’t mind the scars?”

“They don’t matter.” Each of those scars made her stronger than any other person he would ever know. “I want you so much.”

His mouth sealed over hers, ravenous and impatient. Without breaking the contact, he lifted her and placed her in the middle of his bed. It was not too big but would have to work. He hunched over her and she arched into him, unable to stop inhaling each other.

“Still nervous?” she asked when they parted for air. When Brandon laughed in reply, she twisted her arm behind her back and unhooked her bra. The next moment, she tossed it to the floor. “Does that help?”

Good god. Every coherent thought seemed to leave his mind when he saw the delicate, erect nipples. The pressure in his pants was suddenly painful and he held back a groan just in time when she reached between them to feel his bulge.

“Certainly helps with that,” he gave a breathy chuckle, swallowing a few times to moisten his dry throat. It had been days since he last found any relief. His sac was heavy with obvious buildup. “You have no idea how beautiful you are and what you do to me.”

When he resumed kissing her, she felt his erection digging into her belly. Big hands cupped her breasts, kneading them just the way she had imagined he would. Displeased that he was more clothed than she was, Isabel tugged at his shirt, but he ignored her indication and continued lavishing attention on her body, from the pit of her neck to the deep cleavage to the flat stomach. He slowly pulled down her tights as he went, revealing pink knickers and her meticulously groomed virgin sex underneath.

She resisted when he approached her opening, trying to shield herself with her arms. Brandon pinned her wrists with one hand, holding her legs open with the other. When his lips made contact with the smooth folds of her womanhood, her back arched off the bed, a moan crawling up her throat.

That was the sweetest noise of need he had ever heard. The sound, coupled with the heady smell of her arousal, turned his young blood hot and thick. His erection wept inside his boxers but he ignored his own hunger to focus on her.

“I wish you could see how wet you are,” he whispered against the glistening pink flesh. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do…” she sighed, her skin breaking out into prickles when her legs were obscenely spread on the bed and her moist cleft examined with a finger. “I’m so ready for you.”

She could not think of a worse occasion to bring it up. “But I’m not on birth control.”

“I know. You told me.”

Isabel frowned down at him. “I did?”

“Yeah. We were talking on the phone a couple months ago and you mentioned that you were sore and achy because you were ovulating.” He circled his fingers around her hard little nub. “You wouldn’t ovulate if you were on birth control, would you?”

She opened her mouth to respond but lost her voice when he slowly pushed his finger inside her. Her body tensed.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“A little…” She involuntarily ground on his finger. “That’s almost like a tampon.”

“The tampon hurts?”

Isabel closed her eyes, mentally digging a hole to hide in. “I need the larger sizes… you know… because…”

She squeezed around his finger even as she spoke. Brandon gently pulled it out and added a second finger. A groan erupted from her, along with a flood of moisture. He lazily thrust his fingers, marvelling at the way the untried tissues resisted and welcomed him at the same time.

“Because it’s pretty bad sometimes?” he posed. “Yes, I know that too. Just last month you sounded so miserable, it broke my heart.”

Isabel deflated with a deep exhale. That man had crept under her skin and made permanent residence there, seeing everything that she let no one else in on. It was liberating to have that connection with someone, to know that he had her all figured out. If there was anyone she could be vulnerable with, it was him.

“What’s wrong?” he queried, watching her lost in thought. She shook her head.

“Just wondering if you’re ever going to take your clothes off,” she teased. Brandon kneeled back on the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head to toss it on the floor. Isabel sat upright and showered kisses across his torso, smiling to herself when his head tipped back. She had not known how much she loved body hair on a man before she met him. His hairy chest was possibly her favourite part of him.

Well, one of her many favourites. When he finally divested himself of his pants and underwear, his rather impressive erection was quickly added to that list.

Her hand seemed too small when she gripped him. He was gorgeous with bulging veins and a fat mushroom head, and although his generous size was intimidating, it also made her mouth water.

“This is what you do to me.” He placed his hand over hers, slowly pumping the engorged shaft. “Had it not been for you, I wouldn’t have known that the mere sight of a girl standing in the corner of a room with a glass of Irish coffee, twisting a cinnamon stick, could be arousing.”

Isabel laughed, her rosy, taut cheeks bulging out and making her face appear fuller. Brandon guided her back to the mattress, sinking his head to kiss the little circles of colour. She giggled again when he squeezed her firm derriere, her muscles slowly loosening under his body.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” she insisted playfully.

“You turn me on anyway, all the time.” Reaching down, he grasped his throbbing erection again. “This is how I spend so many nights in the hotel room, fucking my fist under the blanket, biting my lip, and trying to be dead quiet while thinking of you. Sometimes, I don’t even care if Nathan or Kyle end up hearing me. I love you, right? I’m not ashamed to admit that I need you, want you.”

“What are you waiting for then?” she goaded. “I can’t wait anymore.”

With a fortifying breath, Brandon left the bed and went over to his underwear drawer, wondering if Isabel had seen the condoms at the bottom of the pile of socks while cleaning his room. He’d had them for months, just in case the opportunity presented itself unexpectedly. He was glad about not having to rush out in a storm to buy protection while hard as a rock, leaving his breathtaking girlfriend naked in bed.

“I’ll be as slow and gentle as possible…” He brushed a kiss to her lips, his sheathed hardness proudly pointing towards his navel. “If it hurts, just tell me to stop.”

She nodded, sweat blooming on her skin in anticipation. When she saw him position the tip at her opening, her eyes closed. Brandon cocooned her in his arms, pushing in a scant inch, her body almost levitating into him like a magnet. He grunted, fighting the constriction as the thick bellend found its way inside her tight canal. She clawed at the sheets, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Got you.” He sucked kisses across her shoulders. “Got you, love.” The hand he was not using to guide himself in wrapped tenderly around her chin, then reached down to palm her throat. A little soothing, a lot possessive. She gasped, her legs shifting in earnest.

“That’s it.” His growl of hard ownership was accompanied by a long thrust, burying the rest of him inside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Isabel croaked. “God, Brandy…”

“I can stop.”

“Don’t you dare.” She heaved out a laugh. The tampons had not prepared her for that. The massive fullness, hard and alive and twitching inside her, and she was snugly enveloping him. Their bodies had blended, hard to tell where one ended and the other began. “Needed you for too long.”

He kissed her again, dragging his lips down the side of her jaw. “You have all of me,” he panted, sweat breaking out on his skin. “Jesus… you’re so tight…”

“Is that good?”

“Too good.” He worked her slowly, trying to stretch her open. “You’re squeezing the life out of me. Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “You can go faster. I can take you.”

Brandon increased his strokes, withdrawing to the last inch and ploughing back in. He took her lips in open-mouthed kisses, her moans raw and needy, her face misty and eyes dazed. Brandon kept stroking her, up her throat, down to her breasts, then back up to her lips. She drew it in, nuzzling into his palm as if the touch of his hand was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“Love you…” she sighed brokenly, bucking her hips to match his thrusts. “Want to be yours… only yours…”

“You are mine… Oh, Izzi…” He buried his nose in her hair, his hands sliding underneath her buttocks to knead the firm flesh. “So in love with you… I’m never letting you go…”

“Harder.” Her legs wrapped around him, spreading her wider. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” He looked down at her face, a trickle of sweat dripping from his sideburn.

“Yeah…” Bucking her hips, she tried to match his thrusts. “I need it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m okay.” She ran her hands down his sweaty back, the muscles flexing under her palm. “You feel so good… I need more…”

“Okay… but you can always stop me if—”

She grabbed his face with both hands and swallowed the rest of his words. “Fuck me,” she hissed impatiently. “Just the way you’ve always imagined.”

The look of pure desire in her eyes snapped his control. His hips gathered momentum, his desperation getting the better of him. She held onto him through the mounting passion, their erotic rhythm blending with the sound of the rain and the wind, the chorus of moans and heavy breaths hanging in the air. Brandon took her legs and bent them all the way back, opening her that impossible bit more. She whimpered, surrendering to his hard pounding.

“Please…” Her fist thumped onto the mattress, each of her breaths a rasping whine. “Please, Brandy… I…”

“Getting close?” he coaxed, shifting her body to reach deeper inside her. The change of angle hit her most sensitive spot, and she was suddenly approaching the edge at an alarming pace. He watched the panic spread across her face, her eyes glazing over.

“Right there…” she sobbed, her womb clenching. “I’m too…”

“Let go,” Brandon hissed quietly into her ear, moving relentlessly. “I’m here to hold you. Just let go.”

Her vision blackened and she cried out, arching and twisting against him, her nails digging into his arms. The pressure from her spasming tissues bore down painfully on him, even as he watched the rapture engulf her. His thrusts turned vicious, his buttocks clenched, testicles tight.

“Shit…” he groaned, his head bowing down as the first molten spurts were wrenched out of him. He kept thrusting through his release, rope after rope of hot cream spilling into the sheath. Isabel buried her face in his shoulder, choking out a cry when another orgasm washed over her and rippled through his length. Brandon kept going, mindlessly slamming into her.

“Oh…” Her ecstasy massaged him into another frenzy of need, and he spilled again, and again, one bout of savage rush followed by another, more intense, more furious. He crushed her to his chest, struggling to breathe while tremors racked through them. When he collapsed on top of her, he was certain he was not the same person anymore.

“Fuck,” he swore over his wildly racing heart. “I came twice in a row.”

He flopped onto his side. “Come here.” Holding her tight, he sought her lips, kissing her breathlessly. “That was— Fuck— I can’t even…”

They remained tangled in a mass of sweaty limbs as the euphoria slowly melted, Isabel’s heaving bosom matching the rise and fall of his chest. The rain was still pouring hard although the storm had passed. He inhaled sharply, the smell of sweat and sex filling his nostrils— a scent he would forever associate with their consummation.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he heard her sniffling back tears. “You took it quite hard there… Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She met his gaze, her eyes brimming over. “I loved it. Never thought you could be sexier than you already are.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” She quickly dried her eyes, hiding her face in his chest. “It was— I don’t know— I felt things I’ve never felt before.”

Brandon’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. Holding her hips, he carefully pulled out of her and unsheathed himself, knotting the condom and discarding it. Then he drew her back into his arms, wishing that moment would never end.

It did anyway, when the house phone rang. Brandon flailed his arm about to reach for the extension on the table next to the bed. It was his mother, letting him know that they would be home in twenty minutes.

“Shit.” Isabel sat up, looking around at the state of the room. “I just tidied this place two days ago!”

“And you’re going to do it again once I’m gone, if I know you well.” He rolled out of bed to put his clothes back on, realising how weak his legs were. Then he picked up her bra from the floor and slipped it on her with aching tenderness, kissing her shoulders as he did so. He stretched her legs as he put the leggings back on her, raining kisses up her lean, shapely calves. Tugging her to her feet, he helped button her dress, caressing her back in the process. When he tilted her face and kissed her again, Isabel felt herself falling a little deeper in love with him.

“I hope you know how much this means to me,” he said. “I promise I will always respect the trust you’ve placed in me.”

“Was I good enough?”

“You were magical.” He stroked back long tendrils of raven hair from her face. “Way hotter than my imagination. You seemed like a different person, dropping your guard like that. You weren’t even hurrying to reach for your clothes.”

“I told you I’m not going to hide anymore.”

His face suddenly darkened. “I must’ve left you really sore.”

“It’s not that bad.” She wrapped her arms around him. “How long are you staying again? A week?”

“Yeah.” He pursed his lips, gently stroking his fingers along the ridges of her spine. “This makes staying apart from you so much harder, you know. I’m pretty sure I will be going insane without you.”

“I’m right here,” she smiled. “All you have to do is come home and take me.”

“I will.” With a teasing smirk, he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. “When I’m insatiable and you’re trying to swat me away, I hope you remember you did this to me.”

“I will never swat you away.” Craning her neck, she sought his lips, and he obliged by sealing them in a tender kiss. The familiar smell of his body was comforting, and she fought back the emotional surge, having never felt so cherished, so complete. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “I’ll drive you home. Come on.”

“Can I call you once I’m in bed?” she asked quietly.

“You don’t need to ask,” he answered. “I love to fall asleep to your voice. Although tonight I don’t think sleep is going to be easy, with my bed still smelling of you.”

“But you must sleep.” She pushed back his hair with her fingers. “You’re performing at the Sligo Rovers game tomorrow.”

“Are you coming to the game?”

“I never do.”

“But tomorrow if you did, we could sneak off to the lake afterwards.”

The twinkle in his eyes made her heart flip. “You shouldn’t be seen with me on a big day like that,” she warned. “Someone might click a photograph and then it’ll be all over the place.”

“I want to be seen with you. I want the world to know that I’m not single or available, just like everyone here in Sligo knows that you’re my girlfriend.”

He pulled her close until she was pressed against his chest. “You know my values, right? You just gave me your virginity and it’s a big deal for me. This cements our relationship, gives it permanence. There’s no way I’m going to hide from the rest of the world after this. I want to flaunt my amazing girlfriend.”

“I’m not fit to be flaunted,” she said with a tired exhale.

“Izzi, you used to think I wasn’t making us public because I was ashamed of you,” he murmured. “Things are different now. I’m glad you’re getting better and I will never expose you, I promise. But I cannot pretend to be single anymore. Isn’t it unfair to you, to our relationship? There’s so much I long to do with you. I want to see you sing and dance, I want to see you run amok in the rain, I want you to sag in my arms after a few drinks too many… I want our love to change you into the person that your years in London didn’t allow you to be. And I’m going to make sure that happens.”

He hugged her tight. “You’re a real challenge sometimes,” he said. “And I think that’s part of the reason why I love you so much.”

“You will figure out how to tame me,” she cooed.

“You are wonderful the way you are. I’m not changing a thing.” Grabbing his car keys, he unlocked the door and they made their way down the stairs, the sound of the rain getting louder as they approached the door. Brandon pulled up in front of the house, opened the door for her, and helped fasten her seatbelt. Then he was kissing her, sweet and unhurried.

“Will you come with me to Nathan’s 21st?” he asked.

“In Dublin?”

“Yes. He asked me to bring you along. Ginny would love to see you again.”

“Will the press be there?” she asked.

“No. Only friends and family. I’m dressing up as Sgt Pepper.”

“What?” she laughed. “It’s fancy dress?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to. You look fancy enough anyway.”

Isabel laughed again, sinking in the seat. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Brandon started the car. “That means no?”

“No. I mean… I’ll think about it.”

He nodded, knowing that she was still shy around unfamiliar people. And there would be many at Nathan’s birthday bash.

They reached the Barrett house in ten minutes. He kissed her again before she opened the door.

“I love you,” he whispered. No matter how many times he repeated that profession, it was never enough. He was going to remind her every day of her life how much she meant to him. Isabel kissed his cheek.

“I love you too,” she said, stepping out into the rain. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safe.”

Emily answered the door before she could ring the bell, and Brandon waved to her from inside his vehicle, promising to drop in during fairer weather. His eyes met Isabel’s demure gaze, full of joy, contentment, and ardour. If Emily noticed his passion stamped all over her, she indicated nothing.

He stepped on the accelerator, turning the car around. What had he done to deserve her? He did not know, but he would certainly do nothing to lose her. She was a part of him, a piece of his heart, more precious than his life itself.

Emily and Isabel watched his BMW fade into the night, the lights disappearing behind the pall of rain. The older woman shut the door and laughed.

“He’s besotted with you.” She said to her niece. “As you are with him.”

Isabel ran to her room and closed the door, her face flaming. Her blood sang, her heart danced, she felt alive.

It was all because of her Irish Charmer. The man who had loved her back to life.