The Fire (Hurricane Book 4) by R.J. Prescott

Author:R.J. Prescott [Prescott, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-04T18:30:00+00:00

Fed, lazy and a little sleepy from the glass of wine I’d drunk with our Chinese takeaway, I lay out on the sofa with Tommy spooning behind me, and stared at my books. As I glanced across the spines of some of my favourite titles, a feeling of complete contentment washed over me. All my life I’d been reading great love stories, and now there I was living my own. There were a million romantic things that Tommy could’ve done for me, and believe me he did them regularly, but this one showed just how much he knew the real me. The skinny, freckled, ginger girl with glasses, that sat at the front of the bus with a book in her hand. Tommy knew exactly who I was, and embraced it.

The things about me that most men would try to change, he celebrated. His friends told him constantly that he was lucky I put up with him. Usually after something came out of his mouth that he completely regretted, which happened more often than not given that he had very little filter. But the truth was, I was the lucky one. It wasn’t just that there were scores of women who wanted to be me, and believe me, I met at least one every time we went to the pub. It was that he gave me the confidence to love the parts of myself that I’d always tried to conceal. Perhaps that was the trick to happiness. Don’t look for a man that will make you fall in love. Look for a man who will help you love yourself.

“What’s got that big brain of yours thinkin’ so much? I can hear the cogs turnin’ from here,” Tommy asked, the rumble of his chest as he spoke vibrating through my body.

“I was just thinking about how happy I am, that’s all,” I admitted. When we’d cuddled in next to each other, he’d slipped his hand beneath my top and had spent most of the movie drawing lazy circles across my midriff. He was obsessed with the curve between my hip and my breast, his hand always gravitating back there. At my words, it stilled and he flattened his palm to rest on my belly, sending a tingle of pleasure right through to my core.

“I’m glad to hear it, love. But you sure you’re okay? I know you were upset after I fucked things up for you at church with your Ma, and with Anne that bitch ex-friend of me Ma’s,” he asked.

“Anne doesn’t go to St Paul’s anymore,” I told him. “I don’t know if it was the embarrassment of having the congregation know what happened between you both or if it was your Mam’s threat, but she hasn’t been back to mass since.”

“I didn’t think you heard Ma going postal?”

“I didn’t. But your Mam came up to me at the next mass and apologised for the things Anne said. She told me you weren’t that person anymore, and that I shouldn’t hold the sins of a horny, feckless teenager against him.

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