I blinked into the bright morning light. It took a minute to orient myself. I’d never woken up in Pierce’s bed. Usually, I left late at night, after we fought, fucked, and I fled coated in sweat and guilt.

The scent of pancakes reached me through the open bedroom door. My stomach grumbled loudly in answer. I sat up and fumbled for clothes. The memory of them chucked across the living room made me smile, my lips tingling and swollen from Pierce’s all-night attentions.

Voices echoed from the front rooms, so I snagged some clean boxer briefs from Pierce’s closet and an old black t-shirt. I felt like an idiot as I inhaled his scent on the cloth. I went into the ensuite, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I’d shower after breakfast.

The idea of dragging Pierce in with me was enough to put up with spray encrusted hair. I gathered my heft of black curls into a messy bun and checked around for something to hold it up. No hair ties to be found. A tiny part of me felt thankful for that. I located a ballpoint pen in the top drawer of a bedside table and shoved it through the bun. My thick hair wouldn’t stay long, but it would last through breakfast.

I edged along the short hallway into the living room. The kitchen and dining room were on my left. A low masculine laugh caught my attention, and I peeked around the corner. Pierce sat back, front chair legs up, shirtless, laughing. I hadn’t heard him laugh much. It was infectious.

A tall man I didn’t recognize lounged across the table. He caught sight of me first and tipped his chin at Pierce, who canted his neck to look back.

When he saw me, he dropped his chair to the floor with a thump. “Hey, sleep well?”

The other man slipped out of his chair and exited the house.

“Are we alone?”

Pierce stood, pulled me by the waist, and kissed me. His lips sticky and sweet with syrup.

“I slept alright, after we finally got there. When did you get up?”

He shrugged. “Couple hours ago. I had work to do. Are you hungry?”

My stomach growled again. He dropped a kiss to my forehead and went to the kitchen. I took the seat across from his, the one his friend vacated.

“So now that we are married,” I called, “are you going to tell me what you really do for work?”

A chuckle was the only answer.

He returned with pancakes and sat across from me. I took a moment to enjoy the muscular tattooed sight of him in the daylight.

“I thought you were hungry.”

Before he got any ideas I wouldn’t be able to say no to, I dug in.

He pushed a steaming mug of coffee across the white granite. “One cream, one sugar, right?”

I nodded, swallowed, and took a test sip. Hot, but drinkable. I’d need all I could get to manage the day ahead. “We need to discuss these living arrangements.”

He leaned back again. “So talk.”

“I don’t like random people wandering in and out.”

“What random people?”

I pointed toward the door with my fork. “The guards.”

“They aren’t random. They work for me. I’ve vetted them all. Most of them are my friends.”

“Okay, then I don’t want your friends wandering in and out of my home at all hours.”

He laughed again, a deep throaty chuckle that made me want to lick him, even in my annoyance.

“You married into this family. You’ll need to get used to people being around 24/7. My brothers, my sisters, my parents, the guards. Everyone will be in and out of here. I can’t control that.”

I was prepared to fight him on this. “It’s our home.”

“You’re right. It is our home. But nothing is more important than family.”

“I’m family, too, now.”

He slapped his chair down and leaned in. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’re family now. I’m family. The family is family. Bianca is family. We protect each other at any cost.”

I swallowed against the wave of nausea rolling around in my gut. In my family, they protected each other, but only as far as it helped themselves. Case in point, my mother. Everyone was perfectly content to look away while he treated her like shit, or risk his wrath.

I started eating again and swallowed. He still stared, and I glanced up at him over my plate. “I’m not done talking about this,” I warned.

“Of course you aren’t.”

“I need clothes, though. Until we figure out”—I waved my fork around again—“this whole thing.”

He eyed my outfit. “I don’t mind you like this. I’d be fine to keep you naked twenty-four-seven.”

“Wouldn’t the family have something to say about that? Is keeping me naked the way I can get the house to myself?”

When he didn’t answer, I glanced up again to find him coming around the table. He nipped the outer shell of my ear. “You’re sassy in the morning. I’ve never seen this side of you.”

“The sassy side? I’m pretty sure you have lots of experience with it.”

“Yes, sassy, but not as forceful with it. I like it.” He licked where he bit, and I put the fork down, so I didn’t accidentally stab either of us.

“It makes me want to bend you over this table and make you beg for it.”

I kept the whimper from escaping by sheer force of will.

“Do you know what I’ll do next?”

I shook my head, and the weight of my hair bobbed.

“And only when you are dripping down your thighs and squirming against me, will I finally relieve your ache.”

I shifted on the seat, my hands on the table. “You know; I don’t think we’ve ever had sex in the daylight.”

He chuckled. I felt the vibration in my shoulder blades from his chest. “How long do you think it will take you to beg for it?”

I didn’t want to tell him it would take seconds. I wanted to beg him right now. But the rational part of my brain, the one not moony with lust and clouded by maple syrup on a beautiful man’s lips, didn’t want to begin our relationship with me begging for anything.

A sharp knock at the front door saved me from having to choose or look a fool on the first official day of our relationship.

A familiar feminine laugh jerked me from the chair. I raced to the door and enveloped my sister in a bone crushing hug. “We were just talking about you,” Pierce said, his hand braced toward the top of the door. “Please, come in.”

Bianca walked us backward, still trapped in my arms. Pierce leaned out and grabbed something as I let her go.

“I brought you some things you might need when I realized you didn’t go back to your place.”

“How did you know that?”

She shrugged. “I called Harry, your doorman, to check.”

“How do you know his name? I don’t even know his name.”

She shoved a lock of curly blonde hair behind her ear and stripped off her coat. “I ask a lot of people their names. I’m an artist. It’s a thing.”

“You’re an artist?” Pierce asked, taking her coat and tossing it on a nearby chair.

Bianca stared at it, and then him, shirtless with this arms crossed over his chest. Tattoos on display, his St. Patrick medallion gleaming. “Uh, yeah. I go to NYU.”

“Is that safe?”

“I haven’t had a problem yet. Plus, Kat makes me carry a Taser, and I’m a black belt in Brazilian Ju Jitsu.”

“Really?”

“I’ll let you figure it out.” She laughed and headed into the kitchen. “Ohh pancakes.”

She helped herself to a plate, and Pierce eyed me from outside the kitchen door. I shrugged.

My sister and I were close but almost complete opposites. She liked people; I hated them. She was outgoing and thoughtful. I steered clear of sentiment.

“So, you two look well rested for newlyweds.” She took the pancakes to the table.

I decided not to say anything to that statement. So she continued.

“I’m excited to meet Pierce officially, though.” She saluted him as he took his chair again. “My sister has been seeing you for what, ten years?”

“Off and on,” I grumbled.

“Well, she’s never wanted anyone else. Even when our father tried to arrange her marriage. She refused. Flat out. I figured it was because she didn’t want anyone else but you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop. You’ll give him a big head.”

Pierce gave her a lopsided grin. “No, please. Keep going.”

She speared pancakes in her mouth and swallowed just as fast. “Anyway, I’m glad to finally meet you, now that you’re my brother. Speaking of which, what’s with yourbrother?”

He dropped his chin, the smile ghosted from his face. “My brother can’t hold his booze.”

“I thought you Irish pride yourself on that sort of thing. Like we pride ourselves in eating a pound of carbs and keeping our girlish figures.”

He laughed again. “Yes, most of us can hold our liquor. Irin has never been able to. He’s a mean drunk.”

She nodded and shoved more pancakes in her mouth.

“So did you come over here to bring clothes or…” I asked.

She swallowed loudly and grabbed my coffee. “Yeah, and to make sure you were still alive.”

I smiled and shook my head. “Thank you for bringing clothes. Yes, I’m still alive.”

Pierce caught her attention again. “You were talking about me?”

“Family,” he clarified, leaning back in his chair.

She finished her pancakes and settled with my coffee. Pierce stood, went to the kitchen, and brought back another mug. I could have kissed him. I paused in raising it to my lips, grabbed the leg of his pants before he sat down, and pulled him back. I kissed him, a chaste kiss by our standards, but it felt good to be out in the open. To be able to touch him when I wanted.

I glanced up at Bianca while he sat down again.

She smiled. “You look happy, Kat.”

She glared across the table at Pierce. “If you hurt her, I will find the biggest, baddest asshole that works for the five families and pay him a ridiculous amount of money to draw and quarter you.”

“Draw and quarter, huh?”

She shrugged. “I’m an artist. We like to keep things interesting.”

He nodded softly, and I would never get tired of seeing that smile morphing his usually scowling mouth into a thing of beauty.

Bianca slapped her hands on the table and stood. “Well, that’s all I came for.”

“Pancakes, clothes, and a threat?” I asked.

“Well, the pancakes were a bonus.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek before leaving.

“She’s a character,” Pierce said.

“I try to keep her from the darker stuff. From my father’s world.”

“You protect her.”

“With my life, with my money, with everything and anything I have.”

He stood, came around the table, and lifted me under the arm pits to standing. “I like this side of you.”

I spun in his arms and tilted my head back to meet his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“I like my women sassy in the morning, fiery at night, and whatever the hell else they want to be in the middle.”

“Your women?”

“Woman,” he corrected.