I’m cooking scrambled eggs in a saucepan I found under her stove, watching my hands shake and marveling at it.
I’m never unsteady like this, but I know it’s not because of what I did last night.
It’s because of her. The effect she has on me.
“Like it or not, I’m your girlfriend now,” she declared, as if it was a court ruling. As if it was inevitable. Final.
As if it wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever make.
Yes, I fantasized about her a million different ways before now. And yes, I wanted to know her better. But I didn’t know how her instant acceptance of what I’m capable of would feel. I didn’t know how it would move me.
Looking into her eyes as she said she didn’t care about Dylan, only about me, something heavy and profound shifted inside my soul, like tectonic plates moving under the surface of the planet, reworking how everything looks above.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She didn’t accuse me of being a monster. She simply heard the awful truth and accepted it with a grace I don’t deserve.
Then she shoved a stake in the ground and claimed me as her territory.
I’ve never met anyone like her.
I’m not sure if she’s a blessing or a curse.
My cell rings. I fish it from my pocket, glance at the screen, and put it to my ear. “Killian. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“And I wasn’t expecting to hear you eighty-sixed one of your employees, but here we are.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows. Killian Black always knows everything. What’s surprising is that he’s calling me about it.
He usually stays out of my way, working mainly with Callum and my father, who both think I’m ignorant of their business relationship with the notorious former head of the Irish mob. He supposedly died years ago but is alive and well and running a thirteen-member cabal of powerful families like mine who work alongside—but mostly around—international law enforcement.
Suffice it to say, I’m not ignorant. But it benefits me to let my family think so.
“That a problem for you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“The problem is your brother.”
I scoff. “What’s Callum done now? Hacked a government satellite to spy on his wife?”
“Not Callum. Carter.”
I frown. My younger brother isn’t involved in anything more problematic than throwing too many cocktail parties on his yacht and trying to write them off as company expenses.
“What’s happening with Carter?”
“He met with the executive team at TriCast.”
Killian might as well have kicked me in the stomach for how my body reacts to hearing that sentence. My breath is knocked out of me. I almost drop the spatula I’m holding from shock.
“TriCast? They’re our biggest competitor. We hate each other. Why the hell would he meet with them?”
“Because they’re tired of being in competition, mate. They made him an offer to acquire.”
“Acquire? As in us?”
“Aye.”
“Does my father know?”
“No. Nor Callum. Carter did this on his own.”
Infuriated that my brother would be so reckless, not to mention underhanded, I snap, “That little fucker. I’m gonna rip off his dumb Ken doll head.”
“It’s only a matter of time before it gets out. A McCord taking a meeting with the board of TriCast will get people thinking you’ve got problems internally. Financial problems at least. Thought you’d like to know so you can be ready to spin it in your favor.”
“I appreciate it. Out of curiosity, why didn’t you call Callum about this?”
He chuckles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but your older brother’s as likely to throw Carter off a roof as he is to have a heart-to-heart talk with him about loyalty. I didn’t want to be the cause of the lad’s premature death.”
“Good point. Thank you, Killian.”
“You’re welcome. And your new lass is a firecracker. Best of luck.”
He disconnects, leaving me standing there wondering if the last time I saw him, he implanted me with some kind of microscopic GPS device with an audio-video component.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Hi.”
Shay stands by the refrigerator, watching me. She changed out of her wrinkled work clothes and is wearing a short robe now, a black silk one that shows off her legs and bare feet to perfection, along with every beautiful curve.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and try to pretend the sight of her isn’t devastating. “Hi. What are you doing up?”
“I heard your voice, so then I missed you. I think the eggs are burning.”
Looking back at the saucepan, I flip the eggs over with the spatula and inspect the results. “Depends on your definition of burning.”
“I didn’t realize the word had multiple definitions.”
“Sure it does. Like girlfriend does. Could mean a friend who’s a female, could mean something else entirely.”
As I turn off the gas and move the pan to a cool burner, she walks closer, smiling.
“Hmm. Sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“It still is.”
“If I try to tuck myself under your arm, will you push me away? Just checking first to see how much resistance I’ll be met with so I can prepare a counteroffensive.”
When I sigh, she sneaks over and pulls my arm around her shoulders. Turning her face to my chest, she winds her arms around my waist and smiles wider.
“You’re trouble,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Says Mr. Trouble himself. By the way, I brushed my teeth.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m only telling you that so you won’t be afraid to kiss me. I had dragon breath, but now it’s all sweet. Here, check.” She tilts her head back and purses her lips.
She’s so fucking cute, I just want to bite her.
“We can’t have a relationship, Shay.”
She stares up at me with soft eyes and lifts a hand to my cheek. “We already are. Now kiss me before I get irritated with you and the mood is ruined.”
“It’s so interesting to me how you always think you’re the one in charge.”
“And it’s so interesting to me how you think I won’t get what I want.”
She rises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. I gently push her back down, then grab a small chunk of warm eggs from the pan and hold it up to her mouth.
“Eat.”
Without breaking eye contact or objecting to me issuing orders, she opens her lips and allows me to feed her.
Her pink tongue, her sweet mouth, her teeth scraping my fingertips—fuck.
I’m getting hard.
She chews and swallows, then smiles up at me. “You should see your expression right now, handsome. It’s something else.”
I love how she calls me handsome. I love how she challenges me. I love how she’s not afraid of me, even though she should be, even though I’ve given her more than enough reason to.
I love everything I’ve seen about this strange, stubborn woman. And if I’m not careful, I’ll soon be in too deep to let her go.
Without consciously deciding to, I kiss her.
She presses her body against mine and kisses me back, matching my intensity, rubbing her breasts against my chest. I hold her head in my hands and feast on her mouth.
When the kiss ends, and we’re both breathing hard, she whispers, “I’ve been needing that for weeks. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night we spent together. I’ve made myself come so many times thinking of you. I imagined my fingers were your tongue, and every time I climaxed, I called out your name.”
I groan. How is she so perfect?
But I can’t get distracted. She needs to rest and eat. She needs to recover. What she doesn’t need is me pawing her like the selfish lust monster inside me wants to.
Looking at my face, she says firmly, “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“I was thinking I need to let you rest.”
“Like I said, stop it. And don’t growl at me either. You don’t intimidate me.”
Trying not to smile, I frown instead. “You need food, Shay.”
Rubbing against me, she breathes, “So feed me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. Damn, I never imagined watching a man fight his desire for me could be so hot.”
Sliding a hand into her hair, I curl my fingers into a fist and hold her head immobile as I stare into her eyes. “You. Will. Eat. Understood?”
“Sure. Hey, guess what?”
“What?”
“I’m not wearing any panties.”
The little devil knew exactly what that would do to me. We stare at each other as my dick throbs.
So it’s war.
Challenge accepted.
I take another chunk of eggs from the pan and lift it to her lips. She instantly opens her mouth and accepts it, which makes my dick throb again. When she swallows and sucks on my fingers, I exhale an uneven breath. Then she slides a hand between my legs and gently squeezes my hard shaft.
When I tighten my hand in her hair as a warning, she whispers, “I promise I’ll be good and won’t do anything else.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Yes. Feed me more eggs, please.”
My heart races. My head pounds. My balls ache. It’s as if she has the button that operates my adrenaline, and she keeps pushing it over and over again.
I take another fingerful of eggs from the pan. When she opens her mouth for them, she strokes her hand up, squeezes the crown of my cock, then strokes down the length again. She chews and swallows, all the while looking into my eyes.
I pull my fingers from her mouth and loosen the tie on her robe. It parts, revealing her naked breasts, her soft belly, the curve of one plush hip.
I stare down at her hard nipples, listening to her hitching breath and watching the pulse flutter at the base of her pretty throat, and realize that what I want from her is the truly dangerous thing.
I want to own her, body and soul.
Even more than that, I want her to own me.
I want to be the only man who makes her laugh, the only man who makes her pulse fly, the only man who fucks her. The one who dries her tears and holds her hand. The one who takes care of her. The one she dreams about and fights with and makes up with. The one she promises herself to. The one she loves above anyone else.
And the force of how much I want all those things staggers me.
This isn’t who I am.
Or at least it wasn’t, until I met her.
I pull away abruptly. Then I yank her robe together, tie the sash around her waist, and pick her up in my arms.
As I’m carrying her back to her bedroom, she sighs. “Oh look. Mr. Dark and Stormy’s back.”
“You need to rest. So that’s what you’ll do.” Striding through her bedroom doorway, I carry her to the bed and gently set her down on the mattress. Then I pull the covers up all the way to her chin.
She stares up at me in obvious disappointment, shaking her head.
“Not a word. I’m going to get you a glass of water, which you’ll drink. Then you’ll sleep. And when you wake up, I’ll feed you a proper meal.”
Her look of disappointment turns to one of hope.
“Not that kind of meal. Christ. You’re worse than I am.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Yawning, she closes her eyes. “You silly man. Of course it was.”
Within seconds, her breathing slows. She makes a small sound in her throat and turns her cheek to the pillow.
Then I’m standing there watching her sleep, counting all the reasons I should walk out and never return, fighting with myself to do the right thing and leave this beautiful woman in peace.
I can’t have her. Not the way either of us wants. It’s an impossibility.
My chest aching, I leave the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
