Page 186 of Ruthless Claim

“I’m scared,” I say quietly, deciding to be honest with him.

His arm tightens around me immediately. “Of what?”

“Of whoever did this coming back.” It’s hard to keep the tremble out of my voice. “Of them waiting until the baby is born and we’re vulnerable. Of losing you because someone out there wants to destroy what we’ve built.”

Cillian shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t promise that.”

He’s quiet for a second, and I appreciate that he doesn’t just reflexively argue with me. “True, but I can promise that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and our baby safe,” he says, his hand drifting back to my stomach. “I can promise I won’t let my pride or my guilt blind me again.” He presses me closer to him. “And I can promise that whatever comes next, we face it together.”

I turn in his arms so I’m facing him properly, our eyes meeting.

This man drives me absolutely insane. He shut me out and lied to my face and called me irrational but then threw himself over me when a window exploded without one second of hesitation.

“I love you,” I tell him, cupping his jaw. “Even when you’re being an idiot and make terrible decisions based on misplaced guilt. I love you.”

He laughs. “How romantic.” But his face softens as he traces my lips with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too. Even when you throw wine glasses at my head.”

My cheeks warm and I duck my head. “That was one time,” I protest.

“It was a memorable time.”

I kiss him, my hand on the side of his face.

The tension that’s been my constant companion starts to melt, like it’s finally giving up the fight.

He kisses me back like he’s been waiting to, and when we pull apart he rests his forehead against mine.

“We’re going to be okay,” he says quietly, his nose touching mine, his breath mingling with mine. “All three of us.”

“Four,” I say. “You, me, the baby, and your massive ego.”

He laughs and kisses me again, but this time it’s different. It’s deeper.

His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head, and heat pools low in my stomach. It’s been weeks since we’ve had sex.

There was too much hurt and betrayal between us. I hope I never again have to feel like I’m sharing a bed with someone I’m not sure I still trust.

But now, with the truth finally revealed and our marriage on solid ground again, I want my husband back.

I pull back just far enough to say, “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls me up with him, our fingers laced, and guides me down the hallway to our bedroom. However, halfway down the hall he seems to change his mind and next thing I know I’m pressed against the wall.

I raise an eyebrow, goosebumps all over my arms as Cillian fixes his hooded gaze on me.

My breathing becomes shallow, my chest rising and falling against his. Cillian’s hands grip my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the heat of his body—an electric pulse that matches my own racing heart.

My body moves of its own accord, driven by the ache deep inside me, the need to feel him, to confirm we’re both still here together.

I lean forward, pressing myself against him, and capture his lips in a heated kiss. It’s urgent, all teeth and fire, as if we can erase the pain of the last two months.

His mouth is on mine almost violently, and I meet him with equal desperation. There’s no sweetness in it—just raw, unrestrained need, as if we’re trying to anchor ourselves in each other. His hands slide over my body, rough and possessive, claiming every inch of me.

“I need you,” he growls against my neck, his voice ragged. His words send a shiver through me, igniting something deep inside. I can feel it—he needs me just as much as I need him.

My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, matching his urgency.