Sean raked his hands through his hair in agitation, ruffling the short blond strands. “Because I work just as hard, but nobody ever pats me on the back or tells me how bloody wonderful I am.”

I stared at him, suddenly seeing something I hadn’t before. I tried to gentle my voice. “Hard work is one thing, Sean, but you have to be kind to people, too. You could work your fingers to the bone, but if you go around flipping everybody off while you’re doing it they’re never going to respect you.”

His glare turned into a tired frown and he turned his head to the side as he muttered, “God, what am I even doing here?”

I let out a breath and took his hand, sliding my fingers between his. “You’re having dinner with a bunch of cool people. Why not try enjoying their company?” He grimaced at me and I stopped for a second as an idea formed, adding, “Why not try enjoying my company?”

“I always enjoy your company,” Sean muttered automatically, his eyes softening as they skated over my face.

I swallowed a building lump in my throat and suggested, “How about we go back outside and try something?”

His look was cautious. “Like what?”

“When we rejoin the others, you have to chat with Ronan in a polite and friendly manner and you have to give him at least one compliment.”

Sean stared at me as though I’d turned into a raving lunatic and eventually shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What have you got to lose?”

“My self-respect,” he scoffed.

“Oh, come on. Now you’re just being melodramatic.” I paused and squeezed his hand. “Please? Do it for me, and I promise you’ll feel better for it. Be kind to my brother and watch the difference in how he treats you, how everyone treats you.”

Sean grunted and asked, “What if I don’t know how to be kind?”

“You’re kind to me. And you were kind to those dogs, even Hampton, who basically sexually harassed your leg only seconds after meeting you.”

His eyes flickered between mine and I saw he was fighting a smile. Then his gaze lowered to my lips. “Fine,” he conceded. “But if this turns out to be a disaster it’s on your head, little pixie.”

I smiled at the reluctant affection in his voice. “Everything will be better. I promise you.”

I ignored the small voice that told me making peace between Sean and Ronan wasn’t just for altruistic reasons. If Sean and Ronan didn’t hate each other, then perhaps . . .

His eyes narrowed on me as he continued staring at my mouth. “I want something in return.”

From the way he was looking at my mouth I wouldn’t need three guesses. “A blow job?”

“No. I want you to come over tonight.”

“For a blow job?” I teased.

“No.” His gaze lifted to mine, the earnest intensity made my breath catch. He shook his head slowly. “No expectations. No lessons. Just . . . come over and spend the night. Be with me.” And then he quietly added, almost like an afterthought, “Let me feel your warmth.”

Chapter Thirteen

@THEBryanLeech ABCDS

@SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech ABCDS?

@THEBryanLeech to @SeanCassinova Always Be Calmly Drinking Scotch #WordsToLiveBy

@SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech UYCBIAW… TDB

@THEBryanLeech to @SeanCassinova UYCBIAW TDB?

@SeanCassinova to @THEBryanLeech Unless You Can Be Inside A Woman… Then Do Both #WordsILiveBy

*Sean*

I didn’t know what I was doing.

Requests, things I wanted, words I would never speak or allow myself to think were now uncontainable.

It’s the sex, I reiterated. Again. I’d used this explanation, now on repeat, as a simple justification for the complex cacophony of my mind.

“Be with you?” Her long, dark lashes fluttered, beating like distressed butterfly wings against warming pink cheeks.

I licked my lips, tasting her there. “Yes.”

She stared at me, confused. I was also confused. And oddly frightened.

Because it wasn’t the sex.

Several seconds ticked on as we studied each other in breathless silence. She found her voice before I did. “What does that—”

“Lucy?” Annie’s voice was paired with a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to whisper a clarification to the question Lucy hadn’t quite posed, because I was compelled to tell her it wasn’t the sex. We didn’t have to have sex. We could just . . . talk. Or play cards. Or touch. Or look at each other from across the room.

We could merely be together.

But she covered my mouth with her hand. Her features arrested with unmistakable panic.

“Yes. I’m fine! I just . . . started my period is all. Made a mess in my jeans, like a crime scene.” Lucy hollered in response then grimaced. She immediately mouthed I’m sorry to me. Her cheeks flushed red.

I lifted an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, ducking her head with obvious embarrassment. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh.

Issuing me a quelling look, Lucy released me and skittered out of the stall, whispering, “Stay here and count to three hundred.”

“Oh! Do you need anything?” Annie’s voice was less muffled and I surmised she’d opened the bathroom door.

“Ah, no. Have it all sorted now. Thank God Tom has these nice absorbent napkins instead of those troublesome hand driers. Although I feel like I’m wearing a nappy. They’re bad for the environment, so I should talk to him about replacing the napkins. Maybe make a few available for emergencies . . .”