Mal gives them a meaningful, see-what-I-have-to-deal-with? look. He gets up, swaggering over to me as lazily as he possibly can without standing still. When he’s within reach, I grab the collar of his shirt and jerk him indoors. Everyone other than the girls is gone, the house fully prepared for Richards, but I don’t take any chances we’ll be heard. Richards is probably touring the village, trying out the local beer, butter, and babes. I shove Mal into the bathroom and lock the door. He leans back on the vanity, smirking down at me like I’m adorable.

“Mal,” I start, taking a cleansing breath. “We can’t sleep in the same room. I have a boyfriend. You have a wife. You care about what she thinks. I know you do.”

I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him, or myself. “I heard you talking to that English lady yesterday…”

At the mention, Mal’s lips curl in satisfaction. Of course, I was meant to hear him nailing Maeve through the mattress, floor, and lower sections of hell, giving her four orgasms and three praises for Jesus, God, Mary, and every saint in the Bible.

“You said you want to take Kath somewhere sunny after this is all over. Maybe you two are going through a hard time—”

“We are,” he interjects. “Horrible, really.”

I nod, eager to make my point.

“Yes. All couples do. I get it. And maybe you’re on a break, and that’s why you were with someone else. I’m not judging. But if we share a room, Kathleen will never, ever forgive you, and we both know it. And I will never be able to mend my relationship with my sister.”

Not that I particularly want that…but still. It would be nice to have the choice.

He pokes his lower lip out and tugs at it, his purple eyes raking my face. He is so painfully, unfairly beautiful. I want to lash out at him for abusing the power of his looks by being so impossible. He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I know what he’s thinking, and the blood that’s buzzing with anger in my veins is now full-blown humming with something that feels deadly close to anticipation. The familiar chill turns hot again, and I know he is my lighter. Ready to set me on fire with a flick of his fingers.

I take a step back, clearing my throat.

“There’s also another option,” I say.

“You can’t go to a hotel. New Year’s is around the corner and everything’s booked.”

“No.” I lift my eyes to his. “There’s another room at the end of the hall.”