Craving Resurrection
Page 13
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By the time they were finished, the sky was growing dark and my ass had long since gone numb. Patrick had also taken off his shirt. Damn.
“Ye ready?” he asked as he pulled the tank top from his waistband and wiped his face with it.
“I was born ready.” I groaned and rubbed my butt as I stood up.
“Ye need some help wit’ dat?” he replied with a smirk.
“No, I do not. Oh, hey, Kev—” My voice was sickly sweet as my eyes met Kevie’s and before I could finish my sentence, Patrick had stepped forward and threw his shoulder into my belly, slinging me up until I was hanging over his back like a sack of potatoes.
“Let me down, asshole!” I yelled. “It was sooo nice to meet you, Kevie! We should do some—” I stopped on a startled breath when Patrick slapped my ass hard. Well, at least it wasn’t numb anymore.
“Nice to meet ye, too, darlin’,” Kevie told me with a smile, stepping back as Patrick spun around. “Yer losin’ it, Trick.”
“Christ.” Patrick’s hand tensed on my thigh. “I fuckin’ know. I’ll see ye soon, yeah?”
“Sunday?”
“Fuck off.”
Patrick began walking away as Kevie’s laugh echoed around the court. By the time we’d hit the second block, I was beginning to feel nauseous and the urge to lick Patrick’s sweaty back as it flexed beneath me was becoming hard to ignore.
“Can you let me down already?” I asked calmly. “It’s getting a little uncomfortable up here.”
“Shite,” he grumbled, sliding me down the front of his body. “Sorry, I probably smell like crap.”
“You smell fine, but you’re acting like a lunatic.” I brushed my hands down my shirt and began to walk. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know.” His cheeks were flushed scarlet as he glanced at me. “I didn’t want him to touch ye.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I replied dryly. “It still didn’t make any sense. You’re the one who brought me.”
“I know. I just—de t'ought of it turns me stomach.”
We were silent the rest of the way back to Peg’s. There wasn’t much to say after that. I wasn’t quite clear on the specifics, but it seemed like he liked me. A lot. And even though I knew I shouldn’t enjoy the whole possessive thing he had going, I did. No one had ever been possessive or protective of me before, and in less than twenty-four hours Patrick had shown both traits.
“Yer home!” Peg exclaimed. “How was Kevie?”
“He’s good, Ma.” Patrick said, his eyes glancing from his mom to me.
“He’s a good boy.” Peg turned to me with a sad smile. “I see him every Sunday, but it’s not the same as when he’d be playin’ in the yard with Patrick every day.”
“You see him every Sunday?” I asked. “Well, that’s cool that he visits you when Patrick’s not here.”
“He doesn’t visit me, dear.” Peg corrected me as Patrick’s face went pale. “I see him when I go to hear him give Mass.”
It took me a moment to understand what she’d just said, my mind still reeling from Patrick’s odd behavior. Then it clicked and my jaw dropped as the truth sunk in. I turned completely toward Patrick, who looked as if he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. “Kevie’s a priest?”
Chapter 7
Patrick
I turned to my side, trying to find a comfortable position on my mum’s couch. She’d had the stupid thing for longer than I could remember and I hadn’t fit comfortably on it since I was twelve. Fuck it, I’d sleep on the floor.
I untangled the blanket I was using from around my legs and climbed to my feet. I would have just rolled onto the floor and slept where I landed, but I still had to move some tables and a footstool to make enough room for me to stretch out. It seemed that the older I got, the smaller my mum’s house became.
The day had been so fucking odd I just wanted to go to sleep and fucking forget about it.
Amy…Christ. I hadn’t seen that situation coming. Mum had seemed more upbeat recently when I’d called her, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. When I’d found Amy in my bed the night before¸ I’d been so startled I’d almost screamed like a girl. I’d never had a girl in that bed—I respected my mum too much for that—so the sight of her had not only raised my hackles, but had also given me an almost instant hard on. What was it about the thought of fucking a woman in a taboo location that was so appealing?
Even in the dark, I’d known she was beautiful. Not in the traditional sense, maybe, but beautiful just the same. Poets wrote sonnets about her type of beauty. The kind you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, but couldn’t seem to look away from. And that hair… shit. The first thing I’d thought as she sat up and it tumbled down her back was how it would feel against my thighs. Now the thought made me feel like a complete dick.
When I’d found her with that nasty fuck earlier, the only thing keeping me from killing him was my ignorance of the situation.
I didn’t walk into things blindly. Ever.
Except, it seemed as if that was exactly what I was doing with Amy. I didn’t understand anything about her—yet I’d acted like a possessed man earlier that night around one of my best friends. I’d fought with, helped, flirted with, protected and teased her all day and she’d taken what I gave her and threw it right back.
“Ye ready?” he asked as he pulled the tank top from his waistband and wiped his face with it.
“I was born ready.” I groaned and rubbed my butt as I stood up.
“Ye need some help wit’ dat?” he replied with a smirk.
“No, I do not. Oh, hey, Kev—” My voice was sickly sweet as my eyes met Kevie’s and before I could finish my sentence, Patrick had stepped forward and threw his shoulder into my belly, slinging me up until I was hanging over his back like a sack of potatoes.
“Let me down, asshole!” I yelled. “It was sooo nice to meet you, Kevie! We should do some—” I stopped on a startled breath when Patrick slapped my ass hard. Well, at least it wasn’t numb anymore.
“Nice to meet ye, too, darlin’,” Kevie told me with a smile, stepping back as Patrick spun around. “Yer losin’ it, Trick.”
“Christ.” Patrick’s hand tensed on my thigh. “I fuckin’ know. I’ll see ye soon, yeah?”
“Sunday?”
“Fuck off.”
Patrick began walking away as Kevie’s laugh echoed around the court. By the time we’d hit the second block, I was beginning to feel nauseous and the urge to lick Patrick’s sweaty back as it flexed beneath me was becoming hard to ignore.
“Can you let me down already?” I asked calmly. “It’s getting a little uncomfortable up here.”
“Shite,” he grumbled, sliding me down the front of his body. “Sorry, I probably smell like crap.”
“You smell fine, but you’re acting like a lunatic.” I brushed my hands down my shirt and began to walk. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know.” His cheeks were flushed scarlet as he glanced at me. “I didn’t want him to touch ye.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I replied dryly. “It still didn’t make any sense. You’re the one who brought me.”
“I know. I just—de t'ought of it turns me stomach.”
We were silent the rest of the way back to Peg’s. There wasn’t much to say after that. I wasn’t quite clear on the specifics, but it seemed like he liked me. A lot. And even though I knew I shouldn’t enjoy the whole possessive thing he had going, I did. No one had ever been possessive or protective of me before, and in less than twenty-four hours Patrick had shown both traits.
“Yer home!” Peg exclaimed. “How was Kevie?”
“He’s good, Ma.” Patrick said, his eyes glancing from his mom to me.
“He’s a good boy.” Peg turned to me with a sad smile. “I see him every Sunday, but it’s not the same as when he’d be playin’ in the yard with Patrick every day.”
“You see him every Sunday?” I asked. “Well, that’s cool that he visits you when Patrick’s not here.”
“He doesn’t visit me, dear.” Peg corrected me as Patrick’s face went pale. “I see him when I go to hear him give Mass.”
It took me a moment to understand what she’d just said, my mind still reeling from Patrick’s odd behavior. Then it clicked and my jaw dropped as the truth sunk in. I turned completely toward Patrick, who looked as if he wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. “Kevie’s a priest?”
Chapter 7
Patrick
I turned to my side, trying to find a comfortable position on my mum’s couch. She’d had the stupid thing for longer than I could remember and I hadn’t fit comfortably on it since I was twelve. Fuck it, I’d sleep on the floor.
I untangled the blanket I was using from around my legs and climbed to my feet. I would have just rolled onto the floor and slept where I landed, but I still had to move some tables and a footstool to make enough room for me to stretch out. It seemed that the older I got, the smaller my mum’s house became.
The day had been so fucking odd I just wanted to go to sleep and fucking forget about it.
Amy…Christ. I hadn’t seen that situation coming. Mum had seemed more upbeat recently when I’d called her, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. When I’d found Amy in my bed the night before¸ I’d been so startled I’d almost screamed like a girl. I’d never had a girl in that bed—I respected my mum too much for that—so the sight of her had not only raised my hackles, but had also given me an almost instant hard on. What was it about the thought of fucking a woman in a taboo location that was so appealing?
Even in the dark, I’d known she was beautiful. Not in the traditional sense, maybe, but beautiful just the same. Poets wrote sonnets about her type of beauty. The kind you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, but couldn’t seem to look away from. And that hair… shit. The first thing I’d thought as she sat up and it tumbled down her back was how it would feel against my thighs. Now the thought made me feel like a complete dick.
When I’d found her with that nasty fuck earlier, the only thing keeping me from killing him was my ignorance of the situation.
I didn’t walk into things blindly. Ever.
Except, it seemed as if that was exactly what I was doing with Amy. I didn’t understand anything about her—yet I’d acted like a possessed man earlier that night around one of my best friends. I’d fought with, helped, flirted with, protected and teased her all day and she’d taken what I gave her and threw it right back.
