If she knows what it stands for, she doesn’t let on, her attention shifting to the finger I’ve curled under the top of her one sleeve, slipping the material down over her shoulder, until the spots of purple and green bruising appears. “This looks like it hurts, too.”

“It’s not so . . .” Her words falter as I lean in to kiss the ball of her slender shoulder, her skin carrying a hint of coconut. “ . . . bad.”

I shift my body closer to her, waiting for her to ask me to stop.

Instead, her mouth finds mine in one swoop, landing without any hesitation, and it’s pretty obvious that I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this all night. Her lips are surprisingly fervent and her hands brave for a girl so seemingly nervous around me. Maybe it’s only the Jameson, which I can taste with each swipe of her tongue, but I don’t mind her fingers skimming over my neck, my shoulders, my chest . . . as if memorizing me. Torturing me.

The throb from my ripped stitches vanishes as another one forms in my groin. I pull her trim body in to fit between my thighs, while I gently coax her mouth closer with my fingers curled around the back of her neck. A slight moan from her lips promises me that she doesn’t mind. The problem is I’ve never been shy or patient, and that little sound spurs me on. My hands find their way down to grip the backs of those thighs with a tight squeeze before sliding up under her shorts, getting palmfuls of that smooth, rock-hard arse I’ve been admiring.

She bumps against the corner of the desk as she tries to get closer, her arms wrapping around my head, enclosing our faces in our own little cocoon of hot breath. Not saying a word to slow me down.

“All good in—” Rowen barges in, his words cut off mid-sentence.

Amber breaks free, smoothing her hair back in place, her lips red and puffy, her breathing ragged.

His eyes dart between the two of us. “So you found the shirts?”

I spear him with a glare that promises retribution later.

“I should get back to Ivy.” Amber steps back, creating some distance between us. “I promised I wouldn’t ditch her tonight.”

Her eyes skitter over my bare chest once more before ducking past Rowen. Mine trail her all the way to the door. “Hey, you said you had horses. Do you ride?”

Her curls bounce as she half-turns, her chin resting on her shoulder as her gaze flickers between Rowen and me. “Two-time State Championship winner. Yeah, why?”

I smile. “No reason.”

As soon as she’s gone, I punch Rowen in the stomach.

FOURTEEN

Amber

It’s taken twenty-five years, a trip to Ireland, and six shots of whiskey to be able to say I’m ready to have a one-night stand with a man. If Rowen hadn’t interrupted us back there, I’d likely be in the middle of that one-night stand right now.

And that’s why I grab Ivy’s arm and tell her we need to leave the second I emerge from the back, my hands trembling. I never would have let a guy I don’t know slide his hands up my shorts within two minutes of our first kiss, and yet with River, it almost didn’t seem fast enough.

I don’t seem to have much control around him, and I like having control.

River and his brother push through the door almost immediately after, River fully dressed again in a properly fitted man’s shirt, smoothing his hair back, his lips slightly swollen. Like I assume mine are too.

Ivy doesn’t argue, hopping off her stool, tucking her credit card back into her purse, the little plastic holder with the bill in her hand. She slings her heavy black studded purse over her shoulder. “I figured you weren’t coming back, so I asked that guy for the check.”

“I told you I wouldn’t ditch you!”

She shrugs. “I also figured you were lying.”

I roll my eyes. “How much was it? I owe you half.”

“Don’t bother. You can get the bill next time. Right?”

The comment speaks volumes. She had fun tonight. She wants to hang out with me again. I smile. “Definitely. Just maybe less whiskey.” I’m going to blame the whiskey for everything. Turning, I find River’s green eyes glowing with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment, the memory of his mouth on mine and his hands on me still very clear and real and now making me blush. “You’re leaving already?”

How do I explain this? That I’m just not that kind of girl, as much as I wish I could be tonight? And guys like River . . . they won’t waste their time on a girl who’s only here for a week and won’t put out. So, we may as well avoid the awkward conversation altogether.

“It’s my fault. I have a client tomorrow morning and if I don’t get home now, her dragon is going to look more like a lizard,” Ivy jumps in, saving me from having to make up a lie. She sets the receipt down on the counter in front of River. “Tonight was enlightening, bartender . . .” She waves a loose hand his way, dramatically, the only sign that she’s been pounding back whiskey for the past couple hours. “Come by when you want that ink.”

I’m not sure if River buys the story, but his focus shifts to the paid bill, then at Rowen. “What the bloody hell is this?”

His brother throws his hands up in the air. “She demanded the check. So I gave her the check!”

Shaking his head, I hear a mutter of “Just wait a minute . . .” as he punches a series of keys into the credit card machine. A paper churns out and he staples it to the other copy. Stepping out from behind the bar, he hands it back to Ivy. “Consider the whiskey payment for medical services rendered.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” She throws a sly glance my way.

He chuckles and then calls out, “Be back in twenty.”

His brother rolls his eyes, as if he doesn’t believe him, but River looks like he couldn’t care less. His arm finds its way around my lower back as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. And I realize what’s going on.

“We can just take a cab,” I argue. “It’s not far.”

“And let some bastard take two drunk girls in his backseat for a ride that’ll cost them double? Is that a good idea, Rowen?”

“It’s a terrible idea, River. Those taxi drivers mustn’t be trusted.” The excessive frown mocks my protest. I’m no idiot. I know exactly what’s going on here.

“See?” River pinches my side softly. “Relax. You’re safe with me.”

Somehow I know that there’s no point arguing with him.

And if I’m being honest, a part of me doesn’t want to anyway.

“Whose house did you say this was?” River’s eyes roam over the rooms much the same way mine did when I first stepped inside Simon’s place.

“He’s a friend’s brother.” It’s the simplest explanation and, now that the whiskey is going head-to-head with my nerves, the most manageable.

“And where is he right now?”

“Africa, I think. He’s a doctor.” I trail River through the living room and into the kitchen, rambling, “It’s nice, being in a home for a while, after jumping from hotel to hotel across Canada. Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t. I hear that’s a big country.” He pushes a few buttons on the espresso coffeemaker before wandering past it to open the fridge. He pulls out a bag of green seedless grapes. “Healthy.”