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Tremors billowed through her, and still he moved inside her. His cock thickened in anticipation, but still he continued to move in her, his strokes a frenzy of need, and another orgasm shook her and she splintered into a million pieces. Finally, he exploded inside her, and her pussy squeezed him again and again in welcome at his return.
Long hours later, Miranda fought the urge to fall asleep. She had no idea how to bring it up, but she knew she needed to tell Declan about the visit from the FBI.
“Hmm, what’s the matter, love?”
“How do you know something is the matter?” she asked without looking up from his chest.
“Because you went all tense and you have this little furrow between your brow.” He ran a finger over the offending furrow. “Talk to me.”
She sat up and leaned against the leather headboard. “While you were gone, two men from the FBI came and asked me to help them. They said they’re making a case against you and they’ve been at it for a year now. Declan, this is bad news.”
With a sigh, he sat up as well. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you, but the men that came were sent by my uncle. He was worried about me moving you in, and he didn’t trust my judgment. It was the whole point of me going back to Ireland. I didn’t know any of it until the day he sent me home.”
Relief swept through her. “Oh my god, Declan, are you serious? I almost had a heart attack. I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t like your uncle.”
Pulling her to him he rolled her over until she was beneath him. “You don’t want to take my head off?”
“I know you’d never do anything like that. If you were concerned about trust, you would have come right out and asked me. I can’t fault you for your idiot uncle. I’m just relieved.”
He pressed his mouth to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. “I loved that you told them that you would never be afraid of me because you knew I’d never hurt you. When he told me that, I fell in love with you all over again.”
Chapter Twelve
Declan was fighting his annoyance, she could feel it.
“I think you should quit your job. You don’t have to work. I would love to be able to take care of you. Rent out your home and take in income if what I just said bothers you so much your cheeks get pink. You could easily get three thousand or more for it a month. If that seems like too much of a bother, sell it and put the money in safe dividend bearing stocks and bonds, and you’ll get just as much. Damn it, you are exhausted. I know you keep leaving earlier and earlier so you can come home at a normal time. Don’t you know yet that the moment you slip from our bed I know it?
You could also set up out of the carriage house. I can have Robert come and he’ll have it done up in two, three weeks, tops. Take on a few clients at your own choosing and work them part-time. I can’t keep seeing you do this to yourself and stay silent. Please, just think about it.”
Without a word, she pulled him to her and rested her head on his chest. They were on the sofa where she had fallen asleep, and she had just almost fallen off him. Had he not been quick and very strong, she would have woken up in a world of pain. She said nothing, because he was right. She was exhausted. It was now two months since Declan returned from Ireland.
Her boss had finally called her into his office two weeks ago and talked to her about her hours, how her output had decreased, and how concerned he was about that. Vague concern about how it affected the company’s bottom line, which, in turn, affected her bonus—and not to mention, her upcoming review could affect whether or not she received a raise. While vague in some things, the message was clear: her coming in at eight and leaving at five wasn’t going over well. Miranda had gone back to her office and thought long and hard about quitting that day.
Instead, even though things were going so well with Declan, it was like they were already a married couple, Miranda had been too afraid to let go of the security of her job. The thought of Declan telling her to leave no longer hung over her, but she wasn’t so sure about herself. Although she did her best to ignore what Declan did, there was a part of her that could never forget it. One morning she had dropped her towel into the hamper to find a bloody hand towel at the top. There had been no marks on Declan, so where had the blood come from? In the next moment she swore to forget it. Once while they were at the pub eating dinner, a man had approached the table and spoken in hushed tones to Declan. With a quick excuse, Declan was gone, and Paul had seen her home when she was finished. It had been clear there was a gun in the small of the man’s back. The reminders of who Declan was were few, but they were there, just when she thought she could pretend otherwise.
What if Declan was sent to prison? What if Declan was demanded back in Ireland permanently, would he go and would he ask her to go with him, and what would she say? What if violence ever found its way into their home? When it became clear that she was Declan’s woman, she no longer traveled alone. Always either Paul or Mark, and even a few times a man named Harry, dogged her steps, if Declan wasn’t with her.
At first, Miranda had thought it wasn’t a big deal, then it made her edgy. Then she took to staying at home unless it was work or with Declan. When Declan had seen how upset it made her, he’d called a halt to it, but she knew she was tracked by her phone at all times. She also knew he was on edge without someone with her, which, in turn, made her tense.
Still, she told herself that she could live with it, even if it was hard to deal with Declan constantly changing out his own cell phone. He’d admitted it was to avoid tracking and listening in. She’d shrugged and said okay when he told her, and just handed over her own cell phone for him to enter the new number in. Yet, deep down, it wore on her, so she did her best to not think of it at all. Instead, she thought about how she felt in Declan’s arms. How his face got all soft when he saw her when she came home from work.
That night when they got into bed, he only pulled her into his arms and commanded her to sleep. Too tired to argue, she slept.
The next morning, she was up and dressing for work when she felt his arms go around her from behind. Feeling him against her back, she leaned into him.
“Okay, I’ll quit.” Where the words came from, she had no idea. She had no idea she was going to say them until they came out. Still, the moment she said them, they felt right. There was no way of protecting herself from the love she felt for Declan, it was time to stop acting as if there was.
Turning her around, he searched her face, and she stared up at him, her whole heart in her eyes, and he exhaled her name. Leaning down, he kissed her, and right there in their walk-in closet, he brought her down on him and she made love to him, holding nothing back. It was a long time before either of them moved. When Declan made a halfhearted comment about her being late, she only held him tighter, mumbling that since today was her last day, it didn’t matter.
Hours later, she walked into work in one of the bright pink sundresses Declan loved her in most and laid her resignation letter down. It took her only a few minutes to clean out her sadly impersonal office and she was back downstairs with Declan. He carried her box for her to the trunk of the car, and then they went to the planetarium and then wandered the Shedd, and then dinner was at the pub. That night she held him close, knowing that nothing mattered but being in his arms, and that was enough for her.
Rolling over to turn off the alarm, Miranda was immediately pulled back into Declan’s arms. Happily, she snuggled into the heat of him.
“Don’t go, just stay here with me. Let’s stay just like this for the day.”
Her body melted as she felt his hands roam over her body. “Douglas has called twice this week to confirm for today. If I cancel on him now he’ll have a heart attack. It should only take half the day, and then I’ll be back and I’ll make it up to you.”
He grumbled as he allowed her to pull away from him and get out of bed, but his eyes tracked her every movement. “Douglas is more important than me, I see. Why was I stupid enough to suggest you quit your job and take on your own clients? So you’ve finally stopped working almost sixty hours a week, but you still work too hard. And you leave me here suffering for the wanting of you. I had no idea you could be so heartless.”
