Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I’m not really hungry anymore,” I admit.
He shakes his head. “Eh, no. That’s not an option, lass. I asked you what you want. I expect an answer.” He quirks a brow, all command, and heat rushes through me. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
It slips out before I can stop it. Something instinctual. And I love the flash of approval in his eyes.
“You can say that again too,” he says with a crooked smirk.
I shrug. “My brothers raised me to be polite.”
“Good girl,” he praises. “Such a good girl.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling the solid heat of him. His arms are steel, sculpted. I swallow.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever have a night like this again,” I whisper. “Seamus… what do you want most?”
He groans, deep and primal. “My fucking god, Zoya. Don’t tempt me. Can’t you see I’m trying to do right by you?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I know.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want more,” he mutters. “Doesn’t mean I don’t ache for you.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Tonight, you called for me because you were in trouble. Tonight, I killed a man for you. Protected you.” He sighs. “But who protects you from me, lass?”
He means it. He means it. He’s not playing games, and he’s not trying to impress me.
He cares.
I sigh. “I don’t know. It just feels like… like we won’t get another chance.”
He groans again. “Aye, I know that. Don’t I feckin’ know it.”
He straightens, his voice shifting into command.
“But right now, you have some basic needs. You’ll eat. Then you’ll get yer pretty arse into bed.”
That makes me giggle. “My pretty arse?” I repeat, standing.
“Aye,” he growls, his gaze heated as he grips “my pretty arse” in his big hand. “You do what you’re told,” he growls playfully. “Where I’m from, women obey their men. So—are you going to listen?”
He raises a brow, daring me.
My heart stutters.
And to my shock, he gives my ass a sharp smack.
I laugh, and my cheeks flame.
I nod. Because I’ll do anything he asks.
And that might just be the problem.
“How about toast?” he asks. “Mam always said toast was good for a sour stomach.”
“Mam?” I echo.
“Aye.”
He says it with so much affection, I can’t help but smile.
“What about your dad? Do you get along with him?”
“Aye. He’s a good man,” he says thoughtfully. “I mean, by my standards.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He tilts his head. “Like your brothers. Would you say they’re good men?”
I nod slowly. “Now that makes sense,” I say softly.
And I exhale as he walks to the kitchen and puts bread into the toaster. I watch, perched on the edge of the couch, as he butters it, cuts it into triangles, and brings it to me.
I eat it hungrily, crumbs falling onto the little plate while he watches me. “That’s a good girl,” he says. Then he talks to me about the little shops at home and how he’d love taking me to D’Agostinos, the only Italian place nearby.
“They’ve got the best homemade bread with this seasoned olive oil,” he says with a smile. When I finish the toast, he speaks gently.
“Alright, enough chatter. You need rest. You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Oh hell no. I did not wait six months to be alone with him so he could sleep on the couch.
“Why?” I ask, playing innocent.
As if I don’t already know the reason.
He growls under his breath, his eyes flashing with something hot and intense. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to cast off the thoughts racing through his mind. When he brushes his palm through his hair, it stands on end, shaggy and untamed, and I fucking love it. “Should find you something to wear.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine,” I tell him.” I’ve got little boy-shorts undies and a tee. I’ll sleep in those.”
His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches.
“Tempt the fuck out of me, why don’t you?” he growls.
I shrug, all innocence. But I want him to want me. I need to know I affect him the same way he affects me.
No one ever has, not like this. No man has ever looked at me the way he does.
Why not me? Why not now?
“You won’t even notice,” I say innocently, “if you leave a little space.”
But I’m not innocent. Not even close.
Fucking hell.
He makes me feel things I didn’t even know were possible. My heart doesn’t just race—it slams, wild and unrelenting, before my pulse sinks low, sending heat between my legs. I didn’t know a man’s voice could make adrenaline burst through my limbs like wildfire. I didn’t know a simple touch, or even the thought of one, could light me up from the inside.
I’m discovering a world I never knew I needed. A world of adrenaline and breath and heat. And I want to explore every inch of it with him.