“Hey, Keir?” I found him back in the kitchen cleaning up our dishes.
“Yeah?” He placed the last dish in the sink and wandered toward me.
“I’d like to clean up—I feel pretty gross—but I’m not sure what to do about the bandage.” I wasn’t sure why I was asking him except that he was the one who wrapped my hand. That, and the fact that my head still hurt, and decisions felt hard.
He continued forward and took my hand in his, rolling it slowly to the side as though examining the bandage. “I could help with that.” The coarse rasp of his voice sucked every last thought from my brain. I was lucky to remember how to breathe as I nodded my assent.
He walked over to a drawer at the edge of the kitchen and rummaged around until he found a couple of rubber bands, then returned. “Come with me.” He took my good hand and led me to another bathroom, not quite as grand as the master but still luxurious and much less hazardous to bare feet. “Let’s get the hoodie off first.”
I did as he instructed, then watched as he wrapped a hand towel over my bandage and secured the clubbed fist with rubber bands.
“You still can’t get it in the water, but that’ll keep the splatter off.”
My hand was now completely dysfunctional. I peered down at the T-shirt I was still wearing, deciding I could surely get it off on my own, but before I could try, Keir’s large body filled my view.
“Let me,” he breathed.
Again, I nodded.
His hands brought the fabric up achingly slowly, his fingertips grazing my sides on the way. My lungs began to ache until I realized I was holding my breath. I inhaled, making my head spin. Then again, that could have been a reaction to Keir squatting before me to pull down my joggers. His face was inches from my belly.
Goose bumps danced across my skin.
Keir slid his fingers into the waistband of my pants and panties, lowering them inch by inch over my hips and letting his hands continue the slow path downward even after the fabric had fallen to the floor.
“You didn’t get your fill when you changed me out of my dress last night?” A small piece of my typical snark resurfaced when I realized he must have changed me.
He met my eyes, his a liquid azure ringed by a forest of thick lashes, then rose without breaking our connection. “I changed you twice, and no, I’m not sure I’d ever get enough of your body.” His reply winded me almost as much as the sight of his naked body when he whisked off his shirt and pants before stepping into the shower.
“You’re getting in, too?” I blurted.
He stilled. “That a problem? It would be hard to wash you from out there.” Wash me?
Yeah, slick. What did you think was happening?
I don’t know! My brain is too mushy to think.
“No, I … it’s just … you didn’t shower with me last time.” I walked to the glass door and hesitantly stepped inside.
“A lot’s changed since then.” He guided my bandaged hand away from the spray, but I got the sense he wasn’t talking about my hand. Not at all. He switched the spray over to the wand and began to wet my hair.
I stood transfixed as Keir Byrne shampooed and conditioned my hair. When he squirted a dab of body wash in his hand, I almost hyperventilated.
Stetson and I had sex for the first time a month into our relationship. He wasn’t my first, but he was the most serious boyfriend I’d ever had. Not once in almost a year of sex with him had he ever done anything so intimate with me as what Keir was doing right now. He was tattooed and scarred and could be abrasive when he wanted to be, but the way he touched me was nothing short of reverent.
He made me feel cherished. Safe. Beautiful. All without even trying.
Nothing about his actions in the shower were overtly sexual, yet his hunger for me was palpable in every single touch. Scarred knuckles grazed the bottom of my breasts. Calloused palms glided down my hips. When his soapy hands slid to the inside of my thighs, rising higher to my cleft, I thought I might black out from the intensity of my arousal.
How could I feel so turned on by someone who had kidnapped and married me after drugging me out of my mind? It shouldn’t have mattered that he’d talked to my father beforehand. It was my life he had derailed. Yes, he was trying to help. Yes, I was obscenely attracted to the man, but did that negate the other stuff—the fact that our involvement could harm my father’s reputation? The fact that he’d tricked me, and our entire fake relationship was an illusion only serving to keep me safe?
You’re overthinking this, Ro.
Am I? Maybe for once, I should do a little more thinking, and a little less denying the truth. I’m messed up, and he’s a criminal—what kind of relationship could we possibly have?
“I think I’m ready to get out,” I said breathlessly, the contents of my stomach growing more unsettled. “Thank you.” I met his impenetrable gaze before stepping into the cool bathroom air. I toweled off, forcing myself not to stare while Keir finished his shower, then grabbed my clothes and fled for a minute of privacy.
After taking off the towel wrapping, I was able to get dressed and brush out my tangled hair. I even brushed my teeth and was feeling halfway human again when I went back into the living area and found Keir watching television on the sofa.
God, how was this supposed to work? It didn’t feel right to just cuddle up next to him. We’d only known each other a week! But we’d also been through a lot together in that short time.
I did my best to let my instincts guide me, sitting near him but making sure to leave a foot of space between us.
We both stared at the television—a documentary about World War II. It could have been worse, though I wasn’t exactly tuned in.
“I can change it, if you want,” Keir offered after a minute.
“No, this is fine. I like history.”
Keir grunted.
The awkwardness seemed to intensify exponentially as each second ticked by until he huffed and scooped my entire body up to plant me right next to him. He kept his arm around me, forcing me to relax into his side. Instantly, the tension settled, like a missing puzzle piece locking into place.
We sat together companionably watching television until it was time to order dinner. It was one of the most peaceful afternoons I could remember in a very long time.
“Does your family know what’s going on?” I asked once we were seated back at the kitchen island sorting through the takeout that had just arrived. He’d ordered enough food for a small family. Though, with his size, that might be a normal meal for him.
“No reason to keep it a secret.”
Guess that was true. I wondered how they felt about it. Did they care that I wasn’t Irish? I mean, I had Irish in my blood, but not in the same way as the Byrnes. They probably would have preferred he married someone fully Irish and not so … law abiding. Of course, he was thirty-two and unmarried, so maybe they were just glad he’d settled down.
Oh shit. Had he been married before? Surely, he hadn’t been dating anyone when I met him.
A stab of jealousy struck between my ribs. I didn’t like the thought of him with someone else. Would he go through with all this and still plan to find an Irish girl later? It wasn’t like this marriage was real.
Take it easy, tiger. You’re deep diving down that rabbit hole.
Yeah, well. This whole surprise marriage to a gangster thing is new to me. I grumbled back at Ivy.
And you’ve always been sooo good at adapting to change. Ivy’s voice dripped in sarcasm.
Easy to say from a dead girl.
Ouch!
I smirked.
“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Keir murmured. “It’s like someone’s told a joke, but you’re the only one who knows the punchline.”
My eyes rounded. “I can’t help it. She’s pretty vocal.”
He lifted a single brow.
“Yeah, I suppose I can be too, when I want to be.”
He took a giant bite of his breadstick and stared pointedly at me.
“Well, anyone compared to you is a Chatty Cathy.”
He slowly shook his head as he finished chewing. “I swear I’ve said more to you in the past week than I’ve spoken in the past year.”
My cheeks warmed. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said softly.
He took another bite, his eyes darkening in a way that shouldn’t be legal.
We didn’t talk much the rest of dinner, and by the time we’d cleaned everything up, a wave of exhaustion threatened to drag me under.
“Think I’m ready to call it a night,” I told Keir.
“Same, I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Guess you had a lot going on.” I stood and clicked off a nearby lamp.
“That, and I didn’t want to sleep while you were drugged. I finally decided in the early hours that you were in the clear.”
So that was why we’d been in the same bed. It hadn’t been a statement about our new marital status. Disappointment made each of my steps that much heavier.
“I can stay in one of the other rooms tonight,” I offered quietly. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted a little space to process things as well.
His hand snagged my hair gently and pulled me back around to face him. The intensity in his eyes caught me off guard, sucking the air from my lungs.
“My bed is your bed. I wake alone, and I will not be happy. Understood?”
Holy hell, why did I feel like saying yes, sir? It was there on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it at bay, nodding instead.
He made a masculine rumble deep in his chest, then swatted my ass. “Good, now keep moving.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t so tired.
