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“Kiss me again.”
His eyes are on my lips now as he licks his own. He stares at them with a mix of hunger and regret. I can practically see the self-control melting away from his iron-clad walls.
So I close my eyes and kiss him again. This time, his body softens, and his lips open to receive me. His fingers feel good in my hair. His tongue feels good in my mouth as he swipes it across mine. It’s slow, passionate. Filled with an electric uncertainty.
That doesn’t last long.
Once he gets a taste of me, he wraps his fist in my hair and arches my head back, tracing my features with his lustful stare. When he presses his mouth against mine again, his kiss is manic. It forces me backward, but he’s there to catch me, tightening his hold on my hips and chasing my mouth with his, our lips never disconnecting.
I’ve imagined this moment since I met him. Since he crashed into my gilded cage and freed me from my shackles. His lips taste just how I hoped they would: dangerous and protective.
When he finally rips away from me, I feel like he’s stolen my oxygen supply. I gasp, wiping the trace of his kiss from my lips, and meet his gaze.
His own breathing is as ragged as mine; his eyes are as wild with the hunger of a panther that hasn’t feasted for a week.
He’s dark. Deliciously dangerous.
The epitome of every bad decision I promised I’d never make again.
His voice is raspy. “Stay.”
I can’t do anything but nod.
I don’t care if Cillian is another bad decision.
He’s a sin worth going to hell for.
Cillian
Valentina wobbles on my thigh, staring up at me with those big Quinn-colored eyes. She gazes with unadulterated fascination like I’m the eighth wonder of the world. Then she flashes me a dribbly grin and sinks her two teeth into my hand.
“Your child is going to grow up to be a psychopath,” I say sourly, “no surprises there.”
Lorcan chuckles. “She’s a little fighter, just like daddy.”
I roll my eyes and they settle on Poppy. She’s rubbing the swell of her stomach, grinning at Valentina and me.
“Congratulations on the second psychopath, I guess.” Lorcan had told me the news before I could even cross into the threshold. “The Quinn estate is turning into a nursery.”
“Thank you, Cill,” Poppy says, rising above my jab. “You’ll have first dibs on Godfather, of course.”
“That sounds like a trap.”
Before she can reply, Donnacha rolls into the family room like a hurricane, crashing open the door and making a beeline for the armchair in the corner. He breaks his thunderous expression just long enough to wave at Valentina, then resumes his hardened gaze. “Hit us with it.”
I draw in a deep breath, watching Lorcan snake a protective arm around Poppy’s waist on the sofa. “The hit wasn’t for you.”
Lorcan and Poppy breathe a collective sigh of relief, but Donnacha isn’t convinced. “Doesn’t mean shit,” he scowls, leaning back in the armchair. “All it means is that they aren’t going through a contractor.”
“Agreed,” I say, prying the hem of my sweater from Valentina’s sticky grasp. “Even from our short meeting, I can tell he’s out to prove how big his balls are.”
Lorcan strokes his beard and says, “Three more of our business owners in Philly have been killed.” Beside him, Poppy stares at her lap. “We cut off the cocaine supply to the city last week, and we haven’t had any retaliation to that yet.”
“They are plotting,” Donnacha says solemnly.
“The issue is, we knew Flavio Abruzzo. We knew how he and his minions operated. Luca?” He lets out a low whistle, “We have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“Not much,” I grumble back.
