Page 60 of Mine
I glower at my brother. ‘No, I didn’t. Not that it’s any of your business.’
He stares at me. ‘You did! It’s written all over your face,’ he hisses, slapping the bar.
‘Ciaran,’ I warn him.
Ciaran’s pupils glint. ‘You fucked those tits, didn’t you?’ He pretends to grope a pair of imaginary breasts in front of him. ‘Tell me. I need to live vicariously through you. I haven’t got laid since that hot lawyer last month. I swear, it was the hottest sex of my life though. Man, what she could do with her mouth. And her tits were even bigger than Aoife’s.’
I glower at him. ‘Careful, brother. I came here to teach someone a lesson tonight. Don’t let that someone be you.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Ciaran huffs, then takes a sip of his drink. ‘So, what’s the story with Kavanagh?’ He glances around the wood panelled bar. It’s not busy. Not yet. There are a few faces I don’t recognise. It’s not unusual. We sometimes get a few brave strays wondering in, men who want to work forus, want to break into our circles. Or simply want to drink in my bar because of my reputation. But give it another hour and the place will be packed with faces Idorecognise.
‘No reports on any other trafficking attempts. He’s probably too consumed looking for Aoife. The stupid bastard put a bounty on her head, fifty measly grand. He deserves to die for that insult alone,’ I spit, taking a sip of my whiskey. It burns as it hits the back of my throat.
‘Oh man.’ Ciaran’s thick dark eyebrows wing up. ‘You like her.’
I scowl. Like doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel for her. Every time I close my eyes I see those big baby blues, those plump pink lips, and don’t get me started on those killer curves. But it’s not just that. It’s the way she looks at me. Like I’m not an entirely lost cause. Like she sees me. The real me, beneath the mask, and she wants me.
But will she still want me when she sees the depth of my darkness?
The true dominant?
I don’t know.
And it terrifies me.
I want so much more than just her body. I want her heart too.
I’ve never wanted to date a woman in my life. Fuck them? Yes. Tie them up and tease them until they beg me to let them come. Absofuckinglutely. But dating one was a definite no.
Until her.
I’ve spent every night this week, and every morning with my fingers or mouth on Aoife’s pussy, but I still haven’t fucked her. And I won’t. Not until we’re married. She might think she’s ready, but truthfully, I’m not sure I am. Because when I do, it’ll change everything.
I already know when I give myself to her, I’ll be giving her more than just my body.
I’ll be giving her my soul.
And as far as I know, she still has every intention of walking away from me next year. As a self-confessed control freak, the prospect is more terrifying than anything or anyone I’ve ever faced on the street.
‘She’s like no one I ever met before,’ I admit quietly.
‘In what way?’ Ciaran leans forward, staring at me like I’ve got two heads.
‘She’s… good. She’s kind. Thoughtful. Moralistic.’ I shake my head. ‘She’s sexy as hell, but the sexiest thing about her? She has no idea.’
The pub door swings open and McAllister strides in. His bright eyes scan the bar, then dim as they meet mine.
He strides directly towards us, an insult in itself. ‘You two old fuckers should retire.’
I reach for my whiskey and sip it slowly. The anticipation of violence is a bit like the anticipation of sex. The air shifts. The tension is palpable. You’re waiting for someone to make the first move. The first touch. The first strike. Then someone finally snaps. And once it starts… there’s no stopping it. No pulling back. No pretending it was anything less than inevitable.
Just instinct. Hunger. Release.
And the certainty that nothing will ever quite be the same.
I drain my drink, put the glass on the bar and stand slowly. Ciaran rises, along with three faces I don’t recognise from across the room.
McAllister came to challenge me, but apparently he wasn’t stupid enough to do it alone. ‘I’ll retire when someone puts me in a box. But that won’t be you.’
