Ireland Luv

Chapter 13

Wrapped in nothing but sheets, Killian and I write our entire song. It comes easy, too easy. Songwriting, something I always feared, was made simply because I was passionate about what was being said on the paper. A song about us. The love story in the movie is our story and we write exactly what we feel about each other and our situation, exactly how we feel in this very moment. I would say some words, we would share a look, he would make it into beautiful music with his guitar and then we would make love.

Maybe I thought it would be a night of us poking fun at each other, him trying to get me to sing some sappy pop song and him teasing my writing skills. It was anything but that. We are completely honest with each other—we have been since we met—and that's why this relationship has gone as fast and as easy as it has.

I'm not sure how many times we stopped, getting caught up in a shared moment and needing our hands and mouths to touch. It was a lot. Enough that we didn't sleep and likely kept half the hotel up with the sound of music and moaning. I'm not even tired as I watch him put the finishing touches on the last verse. I'm just happy to see firsthand what he does best. I see how happy this makes him when he hits the right note or finds a melody that's stuck in my head.

"I love this song, Emma." He stares at the lyrics on the page, his serious demeanor poking through. "You'll do just fine on this final."

The final is the last thing on my mind.

"I love it too."

I place my head on his shoulder, inhaling his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of our lovemaking. Killian moves the guitar from his lap to the side of the bed, standing it upright, prepared for inspiration to strike again if it needed to be grabbed quickly. He takes my hand to join the tattoos on our wrists.

"How does it feel?"

I rub at the black lines, amazed that they no longer ache. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since the needle had darkened my skin. I suppose a night of getting caught up in music will do that, make me forget pain. I take a mental note that when I leave this place without him, music will be there for me. It can change any mood if chosen correctly.

"It doesn't hurt right now," I whisper, unsure if I'm describing my tattoo or my heart. "I'm sure it will sting for a bit, though."

"Good."

Killian pecks my jaw with his lips and tosses the covers across the bed. His naked body is on display and I don't even feel embarrassment as I watch him pick up his boxers from the floor and pull them on. That's how comfortable I am around him. A few weeks is all it took and now his toned naked and tattooed body is mine to drink.

"Now I think we should relax for the night. I will make popcorn with lots of butter and we can watch The Goonies. We can record the song tomorrow on your phone."

"Sounds perfect."

I wish I could go back to the night when he asked me questions through the wall, and I would take more time. He took in every single word I said, knowing that we were about to become something more. If I had known what I know now, I would have asked him the same questions so he could feel as loved as I do right now. Every move he makes is for me and all I can offer him is his dream. I encourage him to be himself, not to allow toxic people into his life and to make the music he wants. If I offered him anything more, I'm not sure I'd be able to walk away. I would be the opposite—someone holding him back from the dream.

Absolute hurt washes over me as I watch him making popcorn. He carefully dumps half the bag into a bowl, adds more butter seasoning, and then adds the rest of the bag. He hums our song and smiles boyishly as he does. I don't want this to end. I want this life where I spend the entire day with him, making love, working, relaxing. But I know this will not happen, and I know the reasons it cannot. Again, I look down at my tattoo and rub at it. I don't want these lines to be just a memory of Ireland.