She sighs. “They feel like they are.”
I kneel beside her on the bed and kiss her forehead, then her nose, then each cheek, until I get to her mouth. “Sometimes, you have to just keep on moving, babe. Sometimes, that’s the only choice you have.”
Keep going. Keep playing. Keep fucking fighting.
“And sometimes,” I whisper in her ear, “You give control over to someone else. You put it all down. And let someone else carry it for you for a little while.” I trace my finger down her cheek. She closes her eyes, reaches for my hand, and kisses my palm.
“Do you do that for me? Will you?’
I nod. “Aye, love. Of course.”
She opens her eyes. “How long, Tiernan?”
I swallow hard and suspect I know what she means, but I need to give her explicit answers. “How long what?”
She blows out a breath, but her voice is a whisper. “How long will you keep me? How long do you want me? When will I go back home?”
I don’t know how to respond.
How long will I keep her? Jesus.
I want her here with me. I don’t want her to go back. Not now. Not fucking ever.
Does she want me as much as I want her?
My tone is harsher than I intend when I answer her. “Don’t worry about that right now.”
“Don’t worry about it? Are you mad?”
I feel the growl low in my belly. “You’re mine, Aisling. You’re under my protection while we see to it you’re no longer a threat and you’re no longer in danger.”
“But then what? What happens after that, Tiernan? After the danger is over?”
I hold her face in my hands, and her eyes look to mine, filled with so much fear, and hope despite her fear, I can’t help myself. I need to kiss her.
I’ve seen the dark side of Aisling. And I know the light side, too.
She moans when I capture her lips between my teeth. I glide my palm along her belly and slowly lift her top. Her hands wrap around my neck, and she holds on tightly to me, her body arching into me.
So gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. She trusts me, and she gives this to me.
“But I’m not the kind of girl you take home to your mama,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. Her voice catches.
“Not sure you noticed, babe. But I’ve got no mama. And my family fucking loves you.”
She’s crying, real tears streaming down her cheeks. When I kiss her, I taste the salt from her tears and make them my own.
I forget where I am, where we both are. I need to claim her, make her mine again, to make sure she knows beyond a doubt that she belongs to me. I lay her down, my mouth never leaving hers, as we frantically strip our clothes off. Her fingers fumble with my zipper, my fingers unclasp her bra, and before I know what’s happening, we’re naked, skin to skin, my body on hers as she yields beneath me.
“Tiernan,” she whispers, her head back, neck bared. She moans when I lick my way down her neck to the fullness of her breasts, capturing first one tender bud, then the next. Her fingers tangle in my hair and her body arches into me. I glide my cock to her pussy and gently nudge the entrance. I groan when I feel her slick juices coat my shaft.
“Need to be in you,” I whisper in her ear. I capture her wrists and hold her down, then lift up just long enough to hold her gaze with mine. The wild need to possess her suffuses me. “Spread your fucking legs.”
She whimpers and obeys, spreading her legs while her eyes widen and her mouth parts in anticipation.
“Yes,” she moans as I slide into her, her eye-lids shuttering closed. “Yessss.”
Her pussy grips my cock. I groan, lifting my hips then plunging into her. She gasps with every vicious thrust, but the way her legs wrap around me and she rocks her hips to every motion, I know she needs this as much as I do.
“Yes,” she repeats, a tortured plea for more. My fingers are in her hair as I yank her head back. I want to mark her, consume her, fill her until every thought is of me and every breath she takes is mine. Her fingernails scratch down my back, and I growl in response, my cock throbbing at the feel. She’s as fucking possessed as I am.
I thrust so hard she screams, but her breaths are coming quicker, as my own pulse beats in double-time.
“You won’t doubt me, Aisling.”
“Wasn’t you”—she pants—“I doubted.”
Thrust.
Scream.
Pant.
“Then who fucking was it?”
Thrust.
Groan.
Pant.
“It’s… Jesus, it’s me, Tiernan.”
She thrashes beneath me, but I pin her down. My thrusts quicken. I want to punish her for doubting us, for thinking that anything will come between us. Not now, not fucking ever.