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Rinsing off quickly, I toweled dry, then walked back into the bedroom. Fallon was still asleep, so I dropped the towel and started to get dressed. I glanced over my shoulder, however, when I heard the bedsheets rustle. She was still—thankfully—asleep, and for that I was grateful.
I let myself stare at her a moment, knowing that under the sheets, her soft body and curves would fit my hands so perfectly. That when I took her mouth, she would yield to me. I would want to take more, but I wouldn’t let that happen. For me, fucking usually involved a fuck of a lot of power play. Most times, I would stay completely clothed while my sub would be completely naked. I liked the unbalance of it. It reminded me that I never had to be a sub—willing or unwilling—ever again.
After pulling on a pair of sweats and a black t-shirt, I walked past the bed, slowing down to get a look at Fallon’s face. Her lips were slightly parted as she slept. My body ached to stretch out beside her, but the concept was so foreign to my fucked-up brain that I practically ran from the room.
I was so spooked that I ran straight into Keir. The other guy held his hands out in front of him so we didn’t accidentally touch. “Woah, what’s going on? Where’s the fucking fire?”
Fuck. “Do you have another kind of soap for Fallon to use?”
I braced for the question of what was wrong with mine, but for whatever reason, he didn’t ask. All he said was, “sure,” then started down to his room. Stepping in after him, I looked around. It looked nothing like mine. Keir had decorated it with paintings and prints of the ocean and of Galway. A blue quilt was on the bed, an area rug on the ground, and a couple of comfortable-looking armchairs huddled around a small bookshelf.
Compared to this, my room looked like a prison cell—especially with the eye bolts positioned on the bedframe. This was where I brought some of the girls from Velvet since their rooms weren’t properly equipped. It was also something the other clan members didn’t know. They would’ve been bitching and moaning if they did, saying it was a security risk, but it wasn’t when I blindfolded them before we even got in the car, and it didn’t come off again until I dropped them back at the club afterward.
“Here,” Keir said, reappearing with his hands full. “I’ve got soap or bodywash. Take whatever you want.”
I took the bottle of bodywash and smelled it. It reminded me of her, and when I looked at the label, it said it was ylang-ylang and cedar. “Thanks,” I said, then hauled ass out of there. I didn’t want anyone else to see me gathering supplies for my woman.
Hustling back to my room, I deposited the bottle in the shower, took one final look at Fallon then went into the gym to work off some of my pent-up sexual aggression.
THIRTEEN
FALLON
There was a tapping in my dream. A rhythmictap, tap, tap. I was standing in the living room of my house, and the tapping kept coming, getting louder and louder until the glass in the front windows shattered and bullets rained down on me. I jolted up with a start, and I swallowed hard to ease the sensation of my heart in my throat. With my breath barreling out of me, I looked around the room.
This was Orin’s room. I was safe. There were no bullets.
Tap, tap, tap.
My eyes locked on the door. Sliding from the bed, I padded closer. “Is someone there?” I asked.
“Aye, Fallon. It’s Keir.”
“Who?”
“Keir. Finnan’s right hand.”
My immediate thought was that Finnan wasn’t going to allow me to stay, so I was reluctant to open the door at all. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I asked, “Where’s Orin?”
“He’s hitting the gym.”
“What do you want?”
“I have some food for you.”
My stomach rumbled, and I pulled open the door a crack. Light from the hallway slanted in. A man with dark hair and eyes stood there. He had a bar through his eyebrow and had to have been well over six feet tall. He smiled at me then—a genuine, friendly smile—and I wondered how a guy like him had ended up in the clan.
“Can I come in?” he asked, glancing down at the tray he was carrying.
I stepped back. “Sure.”
He stepped into the room, then stopped. I flicked on the light, revealing the sparse decoration and complete lack of furniture. His dark gaze landed on me briefly, and I could see the shock in them. He wiped it away a moment later with a smile. “Looks like Orin could use some decorating help.”
“I think this suits his personality,” I replied, dropping down on the edge of the bed.
“If you mean impersonal and stark, then aye, this fits his personality to a tee.” He walked toward me with the tray and offered it to me. There was a plate of roasted chicken with some steamed vegetables and gravy. Mashed potatoes. A heel of bread. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you a bit of everything.”
I looked up at him. “That’s very kind of you.”
