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Saoirse
I wanted him since the day I met him. Long haired, tattooed and tall as an Irish giant. He was more than just handsome, he was drop dead gorgeous. And the only one who ever truly cared. It didn’t matter to him that my father was a criminal and my mother a whore. He saw me, understood me.
I could be anything I wanted, he said.
Except his.
Because I was too young and he was my Juvenile Liaison Officer.
Diarmuid
It’s been years since I last saw her. No longer a girl, she has a body of a woman. When our eyes met again, I saw the only one who ever broke through my asshole mask. She never judged me. She saw me, accepted me.
She could be anything she wanted.
Except mine.
Cause she’s only seventeen and I’m trying my hardest not to fall for her.
If I give in, she will ruin me.
*This is a slow-burn, angsty love story spanning across a seven-year time period with sexual situations and drug-use involving characters under the age of eighteen.
Irish Kiss is a complete standalone novel with a Happily Ever After, but damn, it is going to hurt along the way.*
Diarmuid let out a sigh. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Who’s fighting?” I said through gritted teeth.
“Fine. See you next Friday.”
Inside, I fought the growing swell of inevitability. Diarmuid and I could never be anything. The longer I tried, the harder I tried, the harder my heart would smash when he finally broke it again.
I didn’t think my heart could take being shattered twice.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, fighting back tears. “I can’t be around you when everything screams at me that we are meant to be something. And you…you with your fucking cool logic and detached emotion. You’re like a zombie. You don’t feel anything.”
“I feel.” He grabbed my arm, causing my gaze to snap to his. “God dammit, Saoirse, I feel. Too much.”
“Then why don’t you—”
“Feeling something and choosing not to act on it for the greater good, that’s what being an adult is about. Being an adult is not about age, it’s about how you act.”
“Are you’re saying I’m not an adult?”
“No, I’m saying what we want and what we should do are two different things.”
“That’s shit.”
“That’s life.”
I shoved his hand off me, all the old cracks in my heart reappearing. “Leave me alone. You hurt me too much, Diarmuid. You hurt too fucking much.”
I shoved open his door and tumbled out onto the sidewalk. Running for the house, fumbling for my keys, I tried to get some distance from him. I heard him behind me, calling for me to stop.
Why did he have to keep chasing me? Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
This time I couldn’t let him catch me. I would break if he did.
I tumbled in through the front door.
“Saoirse, stop.”
I did not. He followed me into the house, his footsteps crashing across the old wooden floors. If I could just get to my room, it had a lock inside the door. He grabbed me right as I turned the corner into the short corridor before the stairs.
His hands gripped me around my waist as he slammed me against the wall. His other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look right into his tortured, burning eyes.
“You think I don’t feel? Dear God, Saoirse,” he sounded furious, “the things I want to do to you… It kills me that I’m not allowed to touch you the way I want. It fucking tears me apart to hold myself back from stripping you naked and worshipping every single fucking inch of you with my tongue. It’s like I’ve become a savage inside. A beast.”
I felt every single one of his words in every single one of my cells, ringing out like bells.
His fingers on my chin became soft, tracing my cheek, his eyes growing tender. “This is what you do to me. No one else. No one. Ever.”
I sucked in a breath and let out a moan. His words were like hands all over my body.
“Please,” I breathed,” touch me.”
Sienna Blake is a storyteller & inkslnger, wordspinner of love stories with grit, and alter ego of a USA Today Bestselling Author.
She loves all things that make her heart race — rollercoasters, thrillers and rowdy unrestrained sex. She likes to explore the darker side of human nature in her writing.
If she told you who she really was, she’d have to kill you. Because of her passion for crime and forensics, she’d totally get away with your murder.
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