Page 29 of The Captive
“You think it’s that way, but believe it or not, Ronan Flanagan saw my value from the start, and he’s always treated me like a brother, despite his father. In the end, he chose me by his side, and what I have now, I earned. Loyalty is what matters.”
Her question had hit with surgical precision though. Who in my position wouldn’t question the irony of my situation? My respect for Ronan trumped all my misgivings, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d never be seen as intrinsic part of the family by others. I maintained my neutral expression, but something must have shown in my eyes because her expression shifted to predatory interest.
"Touched a nerve, have I?" She stepped closer, invading my space with deliberate intent. "Poor Alexander, so loyal to the family. Ronan might know how capable you truly are, but what about the others?"
My control slipped. I caught her arm, backing her against the bridge's stone railing. "You know nothing about my relationship with the Flanagans."
Rather than fear, I saw excitement flash in her eyes. Her scent was still fucking intoxicating. "There he is. The real Alexander Moore, not the perfect soldier. The man with his own dreams, his own hunger."
"Be careful, Aoife," I warned. "You're playing with fire."
"I've been playing with fire my entire life." She arched subtly against me. "The difference is, I'm not pretending it doesn't burn me."
My free hand moved to her throat, not squeezing but resting there—a reminder of her vulnerability. My thumb traced her racing pulse, her skin so pliable beneath my calloused fingers.
"Your heart's racing," I observed, detecting the subtle dilation of her pupils. “I wonder what you’re thinking. What you want.”
"Why don't you find out?" She deliberately pressed against my hand, eyes never leaving mine. "Unless you're afraid of what you might discover. After all, you haven’t seenallof me as you claim you have. Then there’s more to see…"
"About you?"
"About yourself." She reached up, not to remove my hand but to trace the scar on my wrist. "About what you really want from me."
I should have stepped back. Reestablished professional distance. Reminded myself exactly who she was. Our connection had been fleeting, never to be repeated. Instead, I found myself leaning closer, drawn by something beyond logic or loyalty.
"What I want," I said, voice rough with unwanted desire, "is impossible."
"Because I'm Connor O'Malley's daughter?"
I nodded. "Because you're an enemy. You’re my prisoner."
"Is that all I am to you?" Her fingernails scraped lightly against my skin.
"What else could you possibly be?" I countered, though we both knew it was evasion. She was becoming hard to resist.
"Oh, Alexander." She smiled, but something in her expression gave me pause. "I could be so many things to you. Your greatest weakness. Your darkest temptation." She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. "Your perfect match."
I caught her wrist, forcing distance between us. "You're Connor O'Malley's daughter right now, trying to play me. My prisoner. Nothing more."
"Liar." She did not fight my grip. "I felt how hard you were for me. I tasted your desire. I know exactly what you want to do to me."
Once more, I should have stepped away. Instead, I backed her against the nearest tree, my body pinning hers in place. "You have no idea what I want to do to you."
Her pupils dilated, breath quickening. "Show me."
The challenge stuck out between us like a blade between warriors. I braced one hand beside her head, the other still circling her wrist. Our faces were inches apart, and her scent filled my senses, driving me slowly insane.
"If I showed you," I said, "you wouldn't walk straight for days."
"Big promises from a man who keeps backing away." Her free hand came up, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "I'm starting to think you're all talk."
My so-called legendary control finally fractured. I caught her face between my hands, crushing my mouth to hers with bruising intensity. I couldn’t fucking help myself—raw desire held me captive. She responded instantly, arms winding around my neck, body arching against mine. The kiss was nothing like a calculated seduction or manipulation. It was simply raw need taking over.
Her lips parted beneath mine, inviting deeper invasion. I accepted, tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting the coffee and something uniquely her. She made a small sound—halfway between a moan and a whimper—that sent blood rushing straight down to my fucking cock with embarrassing speed.
My hands found her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as I pressed her harder against the tree. I wedged one thigh betweenhers, providing delicious friction against her core. She ground against it shamelessly, the heat of her evident even through layers of denim.
"Alexander," she gasped as my mouth moved to her throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
