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Being inside Isabella is the furthest I could ever get from emotionless fucking, but it’s not making love, either. It’s something beyond that, passion and heartbreak, desire and grief, anger and another, stronger, sweeter emotion that I’m too terrified to put a name to, even as Isabella’s lips slant over mine and her body twines around me. It’s pleasure beyond pleasure, a sensation so deep and overwhelming that I can feel it pulling me down, drowning me in it, and I can’t think of any other way I’d rather sink into oblivion.
“Niall, Niall—” she gasps my name, her lips brushing against my ear, her body arching, straining against mine. “Don’t stop.”
As if I could.“Say my name again, lass,” I murmur, my lips against her neck, her delicate shoulder, as I thrust myself into her with a savage roughness that’s neither delicate nor sweet.
I want her. I want this, every day, for the rest of my fucking life, and it’s that knowledge combined with the knowing that we can never have it that drives me, fucking her hard and rough as Isabella cries out my name and meets me stroke for stroke, her hips arching up to take all of me, every time.
I don’t want it to stop. I don’t want to come, and I hold on as long as I can, until my balls are aching with the need for release and my cock is throbbing, every muscle in my body straining. I hold on until Isabella comes again, moaning her pleasure into my ear, her body shuddering and clenching around mine. I hold on until I physically can’t anymore, until my own body clamors to join her with a roaring need that I can’t deny, and then I crush her mouth under mine again, pressing her back into the bed as I lock my fingers with hers, pinning her hands above her and her body under mine as I pour myself into her, hot and thick, filling her up.
Get up and leave now,my mind shouts at me, reminding me not to get closer, not to let this keep going—but I ignore it, yet again. I collapse to one side of her, my arm over her, pulling her close against me as I throw the blanket over our still half-dressed bodies. She’s warm and soft against me, nestling into me with a small sigh as her head tucks beneath my chin, and the pain of loss lances through my chest even now, while I’m still holding her.
Within seconds, we’re both deeply asleep.
4
ISABELLA
Boston is tall buildings and a grey sky, concrete and asphalt everywhere, and it’scold. Niall gives me his leather jacket as we disembark the plane, heading for the long black car parked on the tarmac, and I pull it around me, sinking into the buttery warmth of it infused with his scent. I hold it around me like a cloak of protection, breathing him in.
I’d woken up with a start when the flight attendant discreetly tapped on the door, letting us know that we were beginning our descent into Boston. I hadn’t slept so well or so deeply since before the ill-fated gala, but wrapped in Niall’s arms in the small bed, it felt as if I’d made up for nights of lost sleep in what must have been less than a half hour. A power nap at best, but it had felt better than all the nights I’ve passed for a while now.
We’d quickly fixed our clothing, and I’d gone to the bathroom to clean up, suddenly seized with nerves. I looked at my thin, wide-eyed face in the mirror as I’d straightened and re-belted my wrinkled dress, touching the flat of my stomach and wondering what really awaits us here—and if I’m in any way ready for it.
Now, quickly crossing the tarmac to the waiting car, I’m very sure that I’m not.
“We’re going to meet Liam and Connor McGregor,” Niall says carefully once we’re in the leather-scented warmth of the car. “They lead the Irish Kings here in Boston, and they’re brothers. Liam is my best friend since childhood and Connor is—his brother,” he finishes a little lamely, with a twist of one side of his mouth.
“Why do I need to meet them?” I ask in a small voice. Niall isn’t looking directly at me, in fact, he hasn’t really met my eyes since we woke up. It feels a little as if he’s ashamed of himself for what we did on the plane, and that hurts, because I don’t want that. I don’t want to make him feel worse, and yet every time he loses the battle between his desire for me and his desire to put distance between us, it feels like I do exactly that.
“Because your rescue was part of a deal that we, as the Irish Kings, made with your father. I came to Mexico to make one deal with him, and after you were taken and he wanted my help in getting you back, the terms of the deal were altered. Liam and Connor will want to meet you.”
“Oh.” I press my lips together, unsure how to feel. “You saidwe. I thought you just worked for them but—you’re part of them? These…Kings?”
“I will be soon.” Niall glances over at me, though his gaze skates over my face quickly and darts away. “There’s a lot behind it, Isabella, too much to explain really. I told you back on the night we got married that I was offered a seat at the table, in exchange for making the deal with your father happen. The Kings, for a long time, were made up of Irishmen with wealth and power here in Boston, old names. The McGregors were one of those. Connor, the eldest brother, left Boston for a long time and spent years in London, running a gang of his own. When he came back, he had more—egalitarian ideas about how things should be run. A war was very nearly fought between him and his brother over who would lead, but once they decided to lead together, one of the changes that Connor brought to the table was the idea that any Irishman could sit there, so long as he proved himself loyal. Liam, of course, wanted a place for me there.”
“But?” I glance over at him.
“But—” Niall draws out the word, letting out a sigh. “Connor and I have bad blood between us. He wanted me to earn it one more time, so he sent me to Mexico to make the deal with your father.”
“And you succeeded.” I’m not sure how all of this makes me feel. I’ve been a bargaining chip most of my life already, and my rescue being one more card tossed out in the game of power between men doesn’t sit well with me. But in the end, I believe to my core that Niall would have rescued me no matter what, even if there wasn’t a promotion of sorts waiting for him at the end of this.
“Aye.” There’s a trace of bitterness in Niall’s voice. “I did. So for all that Connor would love to find a loophole to pull it out front under me, I’ll sit at that table.”
“What about your job before? Being the—enforcer?” Something twists in my stomach at the thought, not because of the violence, but the danger. Whether there’s ever a hope of Niall coming home tomeat night or not, I want him to be able to be there for our child. I don’t want them to lose their father to the dangers of this world and the work he chose, but I know at the same time thatI’vemade a choice too, to bind Niall to me in this way. I can’t ask him to change who he is, when he never asked for any of this.
Niall doesn’t look at me, his jaw tightening as he nods. “Aye,” he says finally. “I doubt much will change there. I don’t know anything about being a fine man, Isabella, and I told you once already that I like the life I’ve chosen. There’s a good deal of money and power that comes with a seat at the table, but it won’t change who I am. Who I’ve always been.” His lips press together as he looks out of his window, towards the gray Boston landscape drawing closer. “That’s the man you chose, Isabella. Whether you meant to or not.”
“I know.” The words come out as a whisper, my hands knotting on my lap against the thin silk of my dress. I wish more than anything that I could find the words to tell Niall how I feel, but even if I could, I’m not sure if I could find the courage to say them out loud.
We ride in silence the rest of the way, the knot in my stomach growing steadily. The car stops in front of what looks like an office building, grey and nondescript, and Niall slides out to come around and open my door for me.
The chill hits me as soon as I step out, and I burrow deeper into Niall’s jacket, fighting back the anxiety that wells up in me. I’m a stranger here, with no one to turn to other than a man who seems to want to push me away, and part of me wishes that I’d given in to Caterina and Max’s urging to stay back in New York.
But I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case or burden. I want to make a life of my own, on my own terms.This is part of what I chose, when I made those decisions back in Mexico,I remind myself as we step inside, lifting my chin stubbornly.Even if I didn’t know it then.
Niall knocks on a door and we walk in. The first thing I see is a huge wooden table dominating the center of the room, carved and gleaming, scarred in places. It’s surrounded by chairs, and in two of them I see two very different men sitting, though all it takes is one look at them to see that they’re brothers.
One looks older, with dark red hair and a hard set to his mouth, square-jawed and muscular, wearing a tailored charcoal suit. I see the hint of tattoos at his collar, not unlike Niall, and it surprises me a little. It makes him look dangerous in the same way that Niall does, rougher than even the men I’m used to, but there’s a clear air of power about him. Wealth, too, although it seems to sit a little uncomfortably on his shoulders, as if the suit confines him.
