05-11-2017, 04:51 PM
"You are perfect, Reilly. You always have been."
Oh, bloody hell. It is difficult to mask the raw amusement bubbling up under the surface of his face. His bright eyes go dark as he lets loose a hollow chuckle. "I should say likely not, dove. I've never been perfect a day in my life." He casts his face away, somber for the moment as he thinks about everything he's ever done. Far from perfect. But the fact that she says so, that she even thinks it.. "Thanks, though." He would have to admit to trying. Ever since he'd arrived here on Ischia, he'd been a better man. At least trying to be. Being here for her, watching the kids when she needed. It'd all made him feel important. Something better than a charming Irish bouzie. Still, though, he'd say he had a long way to go to earn perfection. What did that even mean, anyway? He let the thought slip from his mind as he rose and shook off the tension from the night and this morning.
It was after he moved and settled back down close beside her that he let his eyes wander over her and truly contemplate what perfect would look like. To him, perfect could be the way the sun slowly rises, peaking through the branches of the trees surrounding them and bathing its warmth and light across her features, accentuating the reddish highlights in her long brown hair. It touches along her body, glistening on her curves and shading the dips. So damn lovely. He curses himself in his silent perusal for the direction his thoughts are headed, and he curses the bastard that damaged her and now has him refraining from touching her. He tells her though, how beautiful she really is. Even if the word didn't seem to cover the truth of it. His lazy gaze moves to find her face as she watches him appreciate her, and a surge of heat simmers through him at the sight of that. That deep look of.. need? Desire? But just that quickly, it's gone, replaced by goddamned fear and anxiety as he inches closer to her. No matter how relaxed he is, no matter the he fact the he would not hurt her. Still, she is afraid. Damn it, damn it, DAMN it... There aren't enough expletives in the English language to adequately describe his hatred for the gobshite who'd done this to her, and for the ever lasting impression he'd left on her in his wake. Hm, his wake. Just perhaps exactly where Reilly might send him if he ever got to meet the bastard.
Breathing deeply to dissuade the heat of his anger, he pulls his head back away to give her space. For a moment he closes his eyes. To breathe, to think. Still, her exotic scent wafts to him and tugs on his strings. Still, he notices how easier her breaths come now that he had given her those few inches of space back. How long was it going to be this way, he has to wonder. How long could he stand it?
"Reilly," Oh and the sound of his name on her lips, in her voice. He works hard to ignore that next wave of heat that glides through him as he flicks an ear to her and slightly inclines his brows. "Mm?" It is but a rumble of a sound in answer, eyes remaining closed for the moment. It sounded like she was going to ask him a question, but instead she simply says she is glad he is staying and then lays her head down close beside his. He feels it. The nearness of her. The warmth of her skin reaching out toward his face. His lids slowly peek open, the irises behind them brighter in the dawning light. "And it won't happen again." It takes him a moment to realize what she means, but when he does, he is so confused by it. It shouldn't matter to her, how he felt about her going off and-- but why shouldn't it? Isn't that what he wanted? It shouldn't matter to him if she goes and does it-- oh, but he does. He does and he can't help it. So he mulls over his response. What he should say, how he should continue. Such careful steps, he should take. But dammit, he needs to tell her.
"Lace. No matter what has happened, or what might happen later. I-- I need you to know. I'm here, because I want to be here. I'm staying, because I want to stay. With the kids, but also with you, dove." He lifted his head to make speaking easier, however he does not yield the closeness- that she had given. And watches her every expression as he speaks, close enough for his breath to lightly fan her face. "I don’t care anymore, the reasons you went and..- I don't. I just want you to know I'm here. And I want to be here. And I want you." The truth of it burns in his eyes, deep and turbulent as the sea as he gazes at her. His face, his body, even his voice tenses as he visibly restrains himself from moving any closer. "God, Lacey. I want to touch you. But I won't. Not ever." Oh godsbedamned, he couldn't promise that. Not forever. The strain of his hold on himself tightens, along with the pain in his eyes. But he presses on, needing to finish. Facing this head-on. "Not until you ask me to. Until you want me to." Fucking hell, but don't make me wait too long. He would- he would wait, if that's what she needs. But damn, it just might be his undoing. His eyes fall from hers to her cheek, her lips. He prays silently for any god to listen, for her not to run away. Not from him. Never. "I will never hurt you, Lace. Never." His voice is a strained whisper, but held true to a vow he would never break.
Oh, bloody hell. It is difficult to mask the raw amusement bubbling up under the surface of his face. His bright eyes go dark as he lets loose a hollow chuckle. "I should say likely not, dove. I've never been perfect a day in my life." He casts his face away, somber for the moment as he thinks about everything he's ever done. Far from perfect. But the fact that she says so, that she even thinks it.. "Thanks, though." He would have to admit to trying. Ever since he'd arrived here on Ischia, he'd been a better man. At least trying to be. Being here for her, watching the kids when she needed. It'd all made him feel important. Something better than a charming Irish bouzie. Still, though, he'd say he had a long way to go to earn perfection. What did that even mean, anyway? He let the thought slip from his mind as he rose and shook off the tension from the night and this morning.
It was after he moved and settled back down close beside her that he let his eyes wander over her and truly contemplate what perfect would look like. To him, perfect could be the way the sun slowly rises, peaking through the branches of the trees surrounding them and bathing its warmth and light across her features, accentuating the reddish highlights in her long brown hair. It touches along her body, glistening on her curves and shading the dips. So damn lovely. He curses himself in his silent perusal for the direction his thoughts are headed, and he curses the bastard that damaged her and now has him refraining from touching her. He tells her though, how beautiful she really is. Even if the word didn't seem to cover the truth of it. His lazy gaze moves to find her face as she watches him appreciate her, and a surge of heat simmers through him at the sight of that. That deep look of.. need? Desire? But just that quickly, it's gone, replaced by goddamned fear and anxiety as he inches closer to her. No matter how relaxed he is, no matter the he fact the he would not hurt her. Still, she is afraid. Damn it, damn it, DAMN it... There aren't enough expletives in the English language to adequately describe his hatred for the gobshite who'd done this to her, and for the ever lasting impression he'd left on her in his wake. Hm, his wake. Just perhaps exactly where Reilly might send him if he ever got to meet the bastard.
Breathing deeply to dissuade the heat of his anger, he pulls his head back away to give her space. For a moment he closes his eyes. To breathe, to think. Still, her exotic scent wafts to him and tugs on his strings. Still, he notices how easier her breaths come now that he had given her those few inches of space back. How long was it going to be this way, he has to wonder. How long could he stand it?
"Reilly," Oh and the sound of his name on her lips, in her voice. He works hard to ignore that next wave of heat that glides through him as he flicks an ear to her and slightly inclines his brows. "Mm?" It is but a rumble of a sound in answer, eyes remaining closed for the moment. It sounded like she was going to ask him a question, but instead she simply says she is glad he is staying and then lays her head down close beside his. He feels it. The nearness of her. The warmth of her skin reaching out toward his face. His lids slowly peek open, the irises behind them brighter in the dawning light. "And it won't happen again." It takes him a moment to realize what she means, but when he does, he is so confused by it. It shouldn't matter to her, how he felt about her going off and-- but why shouldn't it? Isn't that what he wanted? It shouldn't matter to him if she goes and does it-- oh, but he does. He does and he can't help it. So he mulls over his response. What he should say, how he should continue. Such careful steps, he should take. But dammit, he needs to tell her.
"Lace. No matter what has happened, or what might happen later. I-- I need you to know. I'm here, because I want to be here. I'm staying, because I want to stay. With the kids, but also with you, dove." He lifted his head to make speaking easier, however he does not yield the closeness- that she had given. And watches her every expression as he speaks, close enough for his breath to lightly fan her face. "I don’t care anymore, the reasons you went and..- I don't. I just want you to know I'm here. And I want to be here. And I want you." The truth of it burns in his eyes, deep and turbulent as the sea as he gazes at her. His face, his body, even his voice tenses as he visibly restrains himself from moving any closer. "God, Lacey. I want to touch you. But I won't. Not ever." Oh godsbedamned, he couldn't promise that. Not forever. The strain of his hold on himself tightens, along with the pain in his eyes. But he presses on, needing to finish. Facing this head-on. "Not until you ask me to. Until you want me to." Fucking hell, but don't make me wait too long. He would- he would wait, if that's what she needs. But damn, it just might be his undoing. His eyes fall from hers to her cheek, her lips. He prays silently for any god to listen, for her not to run away. Not from him. Never. "I will never hurt you, Lace. Never." His voice is a strained whisper, but held true to a vow he would never break.
