Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I frown. “Aye. But you’ll use it in front of me.”
“Do you still not trust me?” There isn’t a glimmer of reproach in her question, but curiosity. She knows what she’s done and how I have to keep tabs on her. She knows she’s got a very long way to go before she can show the men of The Clan she’s to be trusted.
“We’re getting there,” I tell her. And we are. I don’t think she’s lying in wait, ready to bring us to ruin. I do think she’s woven more than one lie, and under the pressure of what she has to do, she could be tempted to snap.
I meant every word of keeping her on a tight leash. She’s by my side during the day, even during meetings with my brothers. I’ve got cameras trained on her in my absence, which is rare, and she’s not given free reign over the house like the other girls. We eat every meal together, and sleep beside each other. And we make love, on my terms, every damn day.
Like I said. Not a hardship.
“Alright, lass.” I get her phone from the safe and bring it to her. She thanks me, sits on a chair by the window, and swipes it open. Sunlight streams in from the glass doors of the balcony, and for one brief moment in time, she looks like a portrait. Her ankles crossed gracefully, legs clad in dark-washed trousers. She wears a V-neck pale blue top, simple yet elegant, against her pale, freckled skin. Megan knows the kind of clothes that suit her. She did well. Her long, gorgeous hair’s swept up into a plait that hangs over her shoulder, making her look even younger than she is.
I walk to her, bend, and kiss her forehead. She blinks and looks up at me.
“I love that,” she says, her frankness my reward. I’ve earned her trust, and it helps bring restoration to us.
“What, doll?” I weave a lock of her hair around my finger and glide my thumb along the silky length.
“A kiss on the forehead. Makes me all soft and melty inside.”
I tug the hair. “Good girl. I like you all soft and melty.”
I bend and kiss her forehead again. “So that’s the ticket, is it? That’s your tender spot?”
She shoots me a salacious grin. “I’ve got several.”
Heat flares between us and before we know it, the phone lays forgotten, her clothes are on a pile on the floor, and she’s on her hands and knees on the bed.
My need for her’s insatiable. She bends to my will, submits to my needs, meets every demand with exquisite perfection. A woman like Sheena doesn’t submit easily. Submission from a woman like her is earned, and it’s this very knowledge that fuels my desire for her. She’s my spoils of war.
I fought a battle of my own once. I wasn’t the man I was meant to be when under the influence of alcohol. I tamed that beast, but I fight my demons still. Sheena has demons of her own she battles. It’s probably why we understand each other.
She’s panting on the bed after climaxing, her cheeks damp with perspiration, little tendrils of auburn hair stuck to her forehead and the rest a wild, beautiful mess.
“Nolan McCarthy, I’ll have you know I spent a full ten minutes taming my hair this morning.”
I reach down, wrap it around my fingers, and give it a good tug. Her eyes go half-lidded, and she moans a little. “My God, I love it when you do that.”
“I don’t care if your hair’s tame, lass. And anyway, I’m the one that does the taming around here.”
She shoots me a grin over her shoulder. “Is that right, sir?” she asks. I give her arse a good, sharp crack.
“Aye, love. And don’t you know it?”
We topple over on the bed, entangled limbs and pounding hearts. She places her hand on my chest, and she’s got the soft look in her eyes again, a gentleness she rarely shares. It’s the look I’ve come to crave bringing out of her.
“Today, we need to go to the shops,” she says. “Just now I’ve gotten leave to write a story, and I want to start making amends.”
I hold her hand, weaving my fingers through hers, and bring our folded hands to my lips. I kiss her long, beautiful fingers.
“What are you planning?”
She sighs. “Oh, a few things. I need to investigate first. Would you bring me to your finishing school as well?”
“Aye. I have to go there myself.”
“Do you?”
I nod. I asked Father Finn for more information about the O’Gregors, but we need to investigate further. Every lead so far has turned up nothing, and in our world, quiet like this is only the calm before the storm.
We head downstairs to the dining room. Mam sits with little Sam on her lap, feeding him his lunch. She looks tired.