Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“I’d do anything for you, Mack,” he grunts. “Fucking anything.”
His words set off an explosion inside of me, and soon he’s growling out his release too. He stays inside of me for a long time, holding me and kissing my face.
“Mine,” he says again.
“Lach.” I reach up and stroke his face, marveling at how goddamn beautiful this crazy man is. “I’m yours.”
My lip quavers because it’s true. And because I’m holding back the words that I really want to say. The words that will be the death of me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mackenzie
When Ronan gets back to the house, he’s even more surly than usual. Conor is with him too, and he still has trouble looking at me since the little incident we had. Lachlan takes Ronan into the kitchen and they argue before he stalks over and throws himself into the chair.
Lach and some of the other guys use his parlor as a makeshift armory. I watch them suit up in their gear, strapping on holsters of every kind and grabbing duffle bags of what I’m guessing is ammunition. When I turn to Rory and tell him to make sure Lach comes back to me in one piece, all of them stop to look between us.
They all know I’m a fool. I don’t care.
Lach pulls me closer and presses my head against his chest so I can breathe him in one last time. A kiss on the forehead lets me- and everyone else in the room- know that I’m his. Rory gives me his assurances of protection, and then they are out the door.
I’m exhausted and emotional, so I grab a bottle of bourbon from Lach’s cupboard and curl up on the sofa. I take a swig straight from the bottle and Ronan glares at me.
“Sorry.” I take another drink. “You’re missing out on all of the action, huh?”
He grunts in response. Which only sets me to thinking, and that’s never a good thing.
“How come you’re stuck doing these shitty jobs, anyhow? I’d think you’d be more than a babysitter by now.”
A deadly coldness rolls through his eyes while Conor laughs his ass off at my observation. Seems I’ve hit a nerve.
“He’s not a babysitter,” Conor says. “Don’t you know why they call him the Reaper? He’s the only guy Crow trusts to take care of you. The only one who could kill someone fifty different ways before they get within ten feet of you.”
I raise my brows and Ronan shoots Conor a withering glare. “Piss off, runt,” he says. “Haven’t ye something else to be doing?”
Conor sits down beside me on the sofa. I offer him the bottle of bourbon, and he nods. But Ronan quickly puts the kibosh on that.
“Would ye like me to kill you?” he snarls. “Ye’re here to protect her, not get drunk ya eejit.”
Conor releases the bottle with a shrug. “Seems to me the girl doesn’t need protecting anyhow. She put me in a fucking choke hold for chrissakes.”
I give him an apologetic smile which only irritates Ronan further. “She needed protecting tonight, though. Didn’t she?”
Whether I want to admit it or not, his words hurt. Because I’ve always been too proud to think I’d ever need help from anyone else. Ronan seems to sense this, and for a brief moment I could almost believe he felt bad for saying it. That lasts a total of two seconds before he goes back to brooding.
The rest of the night is quiet. I drink myself into a stupor on the sofa, and it’s nearly dawn when Lach comes in and carries me to bed. He’s exhausted and we’re both sore as hell, but it doesn’t stop us from pawing at each other. I reach up and find his face in the darkness, bringing his lips to mine. Lachlan kisses me back and rolls his body into a dominant position. He wraps my legs around him and pushes inside, never taking his lips or his hands off me.
And that’s exactly where he stays until sunrise.
***
This morning’s ritual between us is different. Lach is taking his time, exploring my body like he doesn’t have anywhere to be. Like it isn’t just the way we start our day, but something different. When he finishes but stays inside of me, I know something has changed for him too.
I’m afraid to ask. But it’s there in his eyes. He cares about me too. That was never part of the plan. I didn’t want him to care about me. But now? It’s making my heart beat fast and I can’t decide whether I want to cry or kiss him.
“Do you have to leave?” I ask him, my fingers grazing over his muscular back and squeezing his ass to pull him deeper inside of me.
His face is serious as he watches me, his eyes a beautiful landscape of blue and gray. “I’d like to meet your grandmother. The one ye called the other day.”
“What?” I squeak. “I mean, why?”
He narrows his eyes. “Do I need a reason?”
I can’t tell if it’s suspicion there or something else. “Well, it’s just a little unexpected.”
“It’s inevitable,” he says. “Ye’re part of my life now. I want to know the people who are a part of yours.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I lie.
Lach studies me carefully, his eyes roaming over my face and looking for tells. He knows I’m lying, I think. So I distract him by fucking his brains out for the next hour.
***
I’m getting ready to go to the club when Lachlan comes into the bathroom and spins me around in his arms.
“I’m taking ye to supper,” he says.
I groan and he arches an eyebrow.
“Seriously?” I ask. “The last dinner we had didn’t exactly go so well. Can’t we just swing through Dunkie’s? A donut would do me just fine, really. I’m easy to please.”
“You and that coffee,” he grunts.
I stare at him expectantly. My question was not a rhetorical one.
“No, Mack.” He slaps me on the ass and makes me yelp. “Ye won’t be having a goddamn donut for dinner. Now get your arse into the car.”