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NIALL
I’ve decided that Mellie has discovered my identity. Her blue, blue eyes hold a small amount of wariness when they land on me now. A caution that wasn’t there before, even after I told her my name on her stoop the first night I drove her home.
I always knew that I wouldn’t be able to have her. I might be the Irish Reaper, but I don’t enjoy ripping the wings of pretty little butterflies. And Mellie Rogan is the prettiest lass I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t stop watching her. I might not be able to have her, but Jesus fuck, I’ve a craving for her.
Right now, I’m watching Mellie as she’s struggling to lift down a box of vodka. I hurry over to her, reaching over her head to grab it.
“Let me, lass,” I mutter. She freezes in front of me, and I freeze as well. I’m pressed against her back. Her silky, gorgeous brown hair tickles my nose. She smells like apples. Apples and sunshine.
Taking a deep breath, I memorize the smell and the feel of her back against my chest, her ass against my hard dick. I wish I could stay like this forever, but I don’t want to scare the lass.
Gritting my teeth, I step away from her, lifting down the box of alcohol.
“I’ll take it to the bar for ye, lass.”
Mellie nods, walking stiffly beside me from the small storeroom and into the VIP room.
“Thank you.” She offers me a tentative smile when I set the box down on the bar, moving to put the solid wood between us as she uses a knife from her back pocket to open the box in one smooth movement.
Watching Mellie handle a knife is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My mouth is dry, and I’m fucking hard.
“Ye’re welcome, lass,” I murmur, accepting the whiskey she places in front of me, without my asking.
When I pick it up, I let my fingers brush against hers, and she stiffens. I quickly withdraw my fingers, staying seated at the bar as Mellie moves across the room, muttering something about needing napkins.
I can see the full box of napkins under the bar, but I let her go. Mellie knows who I am. And it scares her. For the first time in my life, I hate my reputation.
Chapter Five
ONE YEAR LATER
MELLIE
Niall is back. I’m hyper-aware of the moment he walks into the VIP room with Connor Fitzpatrick and Ronan Murphy, two other members of Seamus Fitzpatrick’s crew. Connor is the ash-blonde Irishman I served on my second night here, and Ronan is the strawberry blonde Irishman I heard come in Tahlie’s mouth that same night.
Niall has been away for almost a month, and I did not miss him one little bit. I didn’t miss the weight of his gaze, settling on my shoulders as he watches me every moment he is here. I didn’t miss the heat of eyes searing into my skin as they follow my every movement.
I didn’t miss him giving me a lift home after work every day, not talking to me, just driving me home and watching me walk to my door as his delicious scent of cinnamon and oak fills my nostrils.
Nope. I didn’t miss him for one single second. Which is why my skin prickles the second he walks in, and my nipples pebble underneath my plain black button-down shirt.
Niall Byrne has watched me almost every day for a year. He barely speaks to me,nevertouches me, and those facts don’t bother me in the slightest. They don’t leave me feeling frustrated and almost crying with need. Not at all.
The fact that he’s back doesn’t make me feel like I can breathe properly for the first time in almost a month. Not even a little bit. His eyes meet mine, and I swallow, heat pooling between my thighs.
“Whiskeys, Mellie.” Connor raps his knuckles on the wooden bar, holding up three fingers. I nod, moving to pour their drinks, leaving Connor’s and Ronan’s on coasters in front of them.
As I pour Niall’s drink, I almost shiver at the feel of his eyes on my face like they are fingers stroking at my skin. Setting down the whiskey in front of him, my hand lingers as he takes it from me, his fingers brushing against mine, our eyes burning together.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. My mouth is incredibly dry. Niall’s eyes dip down to watch the gesture, darkening and taking on a hungry look. Jesus. He can’t look at me like that.
“I’ll drive ye home tonight, Mellie.”
I nod, my heart beating out a staccato in my chest. “Okay. Thank you.”
I escape to the strippers’ dressing room on my break. Niall doesn’t come in here, and I need a moment to compose myself.
“Hiding from the Reaper?” A giggle sounds in my ear. Glancing up from my phone, I roll my eyes at Fiona Clatham.
