Cillian watched Olivia’s face as he stripped her. Her dark eyes were glazed, and her chest rose and fell with the quick breaths she took as each inch of skin was revealed. She loved this as much as he did. He kicked her yoga pants to the side. “Don’t move.”
As he stripped, he couldn’t take his gaze off her body, the curve of her waist seemingly made for his grip, her small breasts, her legs that went on for days. And that hair. Fuck, her hair was as wild as she was. It fell around her shoulders in a dark mass that his hands itched to dig into. So he did just that, stepping up to press against her back, wrapping her hair around one fist and tilting her head to the side so he had access to her neck. He kissed her there, taking the time to nibble on the sensitive skin until she was writhing against him.
Then he reached around her with his free hand to cup one breast and then the other, playing her nipple between his fingers. All the while he watched her face, watched her watch him in their reflection. “You like this.”
“I love this.”
He tightened his grip on her hair when her eyes started to drift shut. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He dipped between her thighs, groaning when he found her soaking wet. “Did that blow job do it for you?”
“Yes.” She hissed out a breath as he pushed a single finger into her. “Because it was you.”
Fuck. He pumped his fingers a few times, mostly because if he entered her right now with those words ringing in his ears, he’d lose his shit. But he couldn’t quite let it go, either. “Because it was me.”
“Mmm.” She arched against him as much as she could, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Knowing I was the one making your voice go hoarse while you cursed…Yeah, that was hotter than hell.”
“Damn, sweetheart, you shouldn’t say shit like that if you expect me to be able to let you walk away.” He pushed a second finger into her, the very idea of her leaving him sparking the anger that he never truly got rid of these days. “But then, I wasn’t going to.”
She leaned forward and braced her hands on either side of the mirror, the long line of her back making his mouth water. “It’s not your choice.”
“No, it’s not.” He grabbed a condom that he’d stashed in his pocket earlier and rolled it on. Then he was at her entrance, pushing into her in one slow, smooth movement. “But I’ll tell you a secret.”
“What’s that?” Her voice was as harsh as his, her hips already shoving back to take him deeper.
He wrapped her hair around his fist again, arching her back so that he could see every inch of her in the mirror—and every inch of his cock disappearing between her legs. Cillian’s lips brushed her ear. “You don’t want to leave. You want to be kept as much as I want to keep you.” He thrust into her, using his free hand to stroke her clit. “Which is a good goddamn thing, Olivia, because I’m never letting you go.”
She gasped, her body going tight as she came, her pussy milking him until it was everything he could do not to follow her over the edge. He refused to, though. He was nowhere near done with her.
When the last shudder racked her body, he pulled out of her and spun her around, lifting her and carrying her to the sink. He set her on the edge and spread her legs wide. “Any objections?” Before she could answer, he went to his knees and buried his face between her legs, devouring her like he’d been dying to do all day. Her muffled cry was music to his ears.
And if she was too busy coming again on his mouth to tell him that she wasn’t his, well, that was too damn bad. He sucked on her clit and fucked her with two fingers, ruthlessly driving her into another orgasm. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t actually disagreed with him. He knew Olivia. He knew that she wouldn’t let herself be caged again—even by him. What he needed her to understand was that he wasn’t offering a cage. Fuck, he was offering whatever she’d take, because the thought of her walking away from him had become unbearable sometime in the last twenty-four hours.
“Say it.” He stood and shoved into her again, holding her close so he didn’t fuck her right off the sink. “I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him like her next breath was in his lungs. “I’m not leaving.” She moaned. “I’m yours.”
The words were a balm to a wound he hadn’t even been aware of. He dug his hands into her hair and kept fucking her while he kissed her. This time when he sent her hurtling over the edge, he was powerless not to follow. He pumped into her, coming so hard it felt like the top of his head blew off.
Cillian braced himself on the sink with her draped around him and tried to relearn how to breathe. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. There was nothing else to say. She could claim all day and night that what she’d said during sex didn’t count, but it did. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He dropped his head to her shoulder. “How about a shower and a bed?”
“Sounds like heaven.” She ran her hand up his back, stopping when she found the scar from the exit wound. “What happened here? You’ve told me about your tattoos, but not this.”
He straightened, and helped her off the sink. “There’s not much to say. My sister was in trouble. Well, actually, the guy she was head over heels for was in trouble, and she needed help.”
She frowned. “This would be the same sister who was supposed to marry my half brother?”
“Yeah.” What an incestuous little bunch they were. He pulled on his pants. “She couldn’t ask for official help because…politics.” And at first he hadn’t wanted anything to do with the whole mess. It didn’t take much to slide back into the past, to Teague’s wedding, to him and Aiden finding her and Halloran in the damn storage closet together. The betrayal lay thick against the back of his throat. Hell, it still did. But Carrigan was still his sister, and when she needed help, he was there for her.
“So you helped her.”
“Me, Teague, and a bunch of Sheridan men. It ended up being a clusterfuck on multiple levels. We got the girls they were trafficking safe, but Halloran had been double-crossed by one of his own men.” He shrugged, trying not to let his muscles tense as the memories of that night washed over him. He hadn’t even been there to see James’s right-hand guy turn the gun on him. By that point he’d already been on the ground, bleeding from a Romanov bullet. He grabbed the rest of his clothes off the floor—Olivia had already dressed. “The universe is kind of a funny place sometimes.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it was your half brother who had put the whole damn thing into motion that night. It was his men who showed up to support the double-cross, and it was them that we ended up fighting.” He touched the scar. “The bullet went through. Hurt like a bitch, but it didn’t hit anything vital. I was lucky.” A whole hell of a lot luckier than Devlin. That night Cillian lay there on the cold concrete, the world a blur around him, and wondered if karma had finally come calling. If this was his punishment for being part of the reason his brother died. If it was finally his time.
But then he didn’t die.
Part of him had wondered if that was a mistake. Now he knew it wasn’t. If he’d died on the docks that night, there would have been no one for Olivia to call when she got backed into the corner. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he had a purpose—and a noble one at that.
She opened the door and walked out of the room, still frowning. “I didn’t know.”
“There was no reason for you to. It’s not like Dmitri shared his plans with you—and you were in Boston by that point.” He could still remember the first time he’d seen her, and how she wouldn’t give him the time of day. It made him smile to think about it now. “It’s the past.”
“Except it’s not. Dmitri still has his claws in Boston. My half brother doesn’t like to let things go.”
If what he’d found with the accounts was anything to go by, she was right. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that the money was going to the Romanov bastard, but he was sure enough to bring the information to Aiden and his father. Convenient since they had a meeting with the man himself tomorrow. Whatever the guy was up to, it wasn’t going to stop with three percent from a handful of small-time businesses. Obviously he hadn’t let go of the insult of Carrigan ditching his ass—or the fact that Halloran hadn’t rolled over and played dead like he was supposed to. No, Dmitri Romanov had plans for Boston. And Cillian had to make sure his father and brother were prepared to face that.
He stopped at the top of the stairs, most of him wanting to follow Olivia into the bedroom, but the pull of family digging deep. “Start your shower, sweetheart. I have a quick call to make.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I brought all this trouble to your door.”
“You didn’t. It was here already. You just helped shine the light on the extent of it.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and retreated back downstairs to the study. After closing the door, he locked it for good measure. It was late, but someone would be up at the house back in Boston. They always were.
Sure enough, when he called, his father picked up. “I’m not pleased, Cillian.”
The last thing he wanted to do was have a go-round with Seamus O’Malley when he was worked up. As tempting as it was to mouth off like he normally did, he kept his tone perfectly polite and professional. “I know you’re not happy with how I’ve handled certain things—”
“‘Not happy’ is a vast understatement. I was under the impression that you’d left your wayward habits behind, and then I’m informed that you picked a piece of ass over your family. You’ve used O’Malley resources and put our people in danger, and for what? Throw the woman back to Romanov and good riddance. She’s not our problem.”
He gritted his teeth, fighting for calm. “She’s an innocent.”
“She’s half-Romanov—she’s no more innocent than you are. She knew the risks when she ran, and she dragged trouble straight to our door. Hell, that’s the best-case scenario. She could very well be leading you around by your dick, and you wouldn’t know until it was too late.”
Jesus Christ. “Enough.”
“I know you’re impulsive, Cillian, but this is taking things too far.”
“Enough.” He took a deep breath, but his calm had gone up like a puff of smoke. What was the point of doing every single thing his father ever asked of him if the second he veered off the chosen track, he was being accused of thinking with his cock? “I’m not calling about Olivia. I’m calling about the missing money.”
A pause. “Taking that tone with me is a mistake, boy.”
“Unless you’re planning on declaring me dead to the family like you did Carrigan, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I’m doing what I think is best—for both the family and Olivia—and that’s all I can do. Give me some fucking credit, shut up, and listen to what I have to say.”
There was a rustling, and then Aiden’s voice came over the line, speaking low and fast. “Whatever the hell you just said to him, you need to make it right. He looks like he’s about to drive out there and throttle you with his bare hands.”
Considering he’d never talked to their father like that, his response wasn’t surprising. Hopefully Aiden would be more rational. “I know who’s been skimming off of us.”
That got his brother’s attention. “You should have led with that.”
It was kind of impossible to do that when their father started in on him the second he answered the phone, but Cillian didn’t say that. It was an excuse, and a stupid one at that. “I’m not one hundred percent, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s Dmitri Romanov. Or at least one of his people.”
Aiden cursed long and hard. “That bastard keeps popping up like a goddamn weed.”
“Yeah, well, you have a chance to bring it up tomorrow when you meet with him. The money was routed through half a dozen shell accounts, but it links back to a bank in New York—a branch in Manhattan. It’s not exactly a smoking gun, but unless we have another person in that area aiming for us, then it’s him.”
“You’re sure it’s that bank.”
“As sure as I can be.” Devlin would have been able to pinpoint it. Cillian just didn’t have the skills to take it further. Frankly, he was fucking surprised he’d managed to get this far. “Whatever this is about, it goes beyond money.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Aiden cursed again. “Okay. Send me what you have and we’ll deal with it.”
Cillian tightened his grip on the phone. Part of him wanted to be there, but it wouldn’t make a difference. He wasn’t one of the decision makers in the family. There was nothing he could add to that meeting that he hadn’t already done. Plus, Olivia needed him here. Going back to Boston would be just a selfish way to pat himself on the back for being clever. He was beyond that shit now. He had to be. “Will do.”
“And Cillian?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t think for a second that the conversation about this woman is over. The only reason we aren’t handing her back to Dmitri gift-wrapped is because I hate that bastard. She’s still a threat, and she still needs to be dealt with one way or another.”
Over my dead body. “No one touches Olivia. You so much as try, and Dmitri Romanov will be the least of your worries.” He hung up before his brother could say something else that would start to burn the bridge between them. Cillian turned for the door, but reconsidered. He dialed quickly. “Teague.”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s not like you were sleeping.” Even if his brother did sound distracted. “I know it’s only been two days, but have you made any progress on the papers I asked you for?”
“I should have them ready in a day or two.” A female voice said something in the background, but then a door closed and it was so muffled Cillian couldn’t make out her words. Teague spoke, distracting him, “You’re worried about how things will go down tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t tell Teague about the missing money. He might be Cillian’s brother, but ever since his marriage to Callie Sheridan, his first alliance would always be to her. Handing over a potential weakness wasn’t an option. But he could talk about Olivia. “Romanov isn’t going to give her up without a fight.” And every time the man let the O’Malleys get one over on him, he was potentially weakening his position. It wasn’t something a good leader would allow, and that was if things weren’t personal.
“I’ll call you as soon as the meeting is over and let you know how it went. If you have to get her and her daughter out of town in a hurry, you’ll at least have some warning.”
Since he doubted either Aiden or their father would be eager to do him the favor of a progress report, he appreciated the offer. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. You’re my brother, and you’re doing the right thing. If I can help with that, I will in any way possible.” The voice sounded in the background again. “I have to go, Cillian. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
There was nothing else that could be done tonight. He walked through the house, turning off most of the lights and locking the doors. Mark appeared when he walked into the kitchen. Cillian paused. “Everything good?”
“Yeah. Quiet.” He patted his side where his gun was holstered. “We got this. Get some sleep.”
“I’ll have my phone on.”
“I know.”
There was nothing more to say. They were as covered as they could be given the circumstances. He trudged upstairs, feeling a hundred years old. He’d known his father was a stubborn son of a bitch, but he’d foolishly thought that the old man would support him in this—after all, Dmitri was using Olivia to threaten the O’Malleys—but of course all Seamus saw was the threat she posed. It seemed like he’d only gotten stricter and more brittle since shit went sideways with Carrigan. Everything was black or white. Gray would not be tolerated.
Well, that was too damn bad.
Cillian meant what he’d said to Olivia earlier. He wasn’t giving her up without a fight. He had serious feelings for the woman going on, and that kind of thing didn’t come around often enough to shit it away. He poked his head into the room she’d set up for Hadley, making sure everything looked good. The little girl was curled into a ball in the little portable crib thing that Olivia had packed, hugging a blanket to her chest. He shook his head and partially closed the door, then padded down to the room he’d shared with Olivia last night. She was asleep on the right side of the bed, one arm flung over her head and the other clutching the sheets to her chest.
He showered as quickly as he could, and then slipped into bed next to her. Cillian propped himself up onto his elbow and smoothed her hair back, staring down at her in the moonlight. She’s so fucking beautiful, it actually hurts. He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, and her eyes opened. She smiled. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry I woke you. You need to sleep.” But he wasn’t sorry. Not with her naked in his bed and gazing at him with that happy, sleepy look in her dark eyes. He cupped her face and pressed a light kiss against her lips. “Let me make love to you, sweetheart.” He kissed his way across her jaw to her neck.
“Yes.” Just that. Nothing more.
But he didn’t need more. She was here, with him. They might not be exchanging vows, but there was something real here, something he wasn’t about to let slip past him. If Cillian had learned anything in this life, it was that you couldn’t take a damn thing for granted. He ran his hand down her side to cup her hip. “You are so beautiful, inside and out.” He shifted down her body, trailing kisses as he went. “I meant what I said earlier. I have no intention of letting you go—either of you.”
“Good.” Her word was little more than a moan.
He sucked one nipple into his mouth, palming her other breast, working her until she was writhing beneath him. And then he switched breasts. He wasn’t rushing things tonight, not when nearly every sexual encounter they’d had to date was wild and nearly a frenzy. He liked it. Hell, he loved it. But he wanted to show Olivia exactly what she was coming to mean to him.
He nipped her hip bone and then soothed the spot with his mouth. She made a frustrated noise and lifted her hips, a silent demand he had no intention of ignoring. Cillian licked up her center, circling her clit. Her fingers laced through his hair, holding him in place. Like he wanted to be anywhere else. There was nothing like the feeling of this woman coming apart and knowing he was the cause.
“Wait.”
He froze. “Yes?”
She tugged on his hair. “I want you inside me when I come.”
Cillian paused to grab a condom from the drawer and roll it on, and then he settled between her legs. As he slid into her, it was a little slice of heaven here on earth. Olivia wrapped her legs around his waist, arching to meet each slow stroke. They moved in sync, almost like two halves of a whole.
It was good—too good.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She caught herself on his chest with a soft laugh. “Changing positions?”
“I want to see you.” The only light in the room was the full moon, and it traced down her body in a way that could only be described as lovingly. He followed its path with his palm, ending on her hips. “Ride me, sweetheart. I want to see the look on your face when you come.”
“So demanding.”
“Only about things worth fighting for.”
She opened her mouth and seemed to reconsider. Before he could ask her what she was thinking, she started moving, rolling her hips and taking him deeper. With her hands on his chest and her body moving over his, it was almost unbearably intimate. Almost. He hooked the back of her neck and brought her down to kiss her, sealing their bodies together. The slow slide of her skin against his had him fighting for control, fighting to keep this going as long as possible.
She kissed him, the desperation of that point of contact a direct counterpoint to the way she rode his cock. He could feel her tightening around him, her movements becoming irregular, and he grabbed her hips to force her to keep the same rhythm that was going to send her over the edge. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Cillian.”
He barely waited for her to ride out the aftershocks before he flipped her onto her back and hitched her leg up over his arm. “You look so fucking sexy when you come, sweetheart. I’m never going to get tired of that.” He gave in to the instinct demanding that he pound into her, his control slipping further with each stroke. “And the feel of it. Fuck, it’s too good to put into words.”
“Then don’t.” She kissed him, and it was too much. His whole body went tight, his orgasm sweeping away everything but the feel of her. Cillian shifted to the side of her and drew her against his side.
Olivia gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile. “Careful. I could get used to this kind of wake up.”
Good. He kept the word inside, though it was a close thing. She was going through so much right now. He wasn’t willing to be yet another man putting demands on her. He’d said he had no intention of letting her go, and he meant it. There was no point in pressing her about it—not while they were still dealing with the looming threat of her ex and half brother.
After? That would be a completely different story.
He got up and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. By the time he got back, Olivia was asleep again. She turned toward him as he climbed back into bed, and he pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and letting the sound of her steady breathing ease what remained of his earlier tension. This was what it was all about.
He’d do damn near anything to keep this woman in his life.