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Not only did she do exactly that, but when he stepped back, she kicked the silk away and snatched the back of his neck to yank his mouth to hers again, demanding its attention. She didn’t want to be without it. Not yet. Not now. Addicted to the heat of his forceful tongue, she needed to battle back, to push with the same strength, to give him the same assurance that seared her.
As she shoved the jacket from his shoulders, his hands went under her skirt to pull her ass to the edge of the desk, forcing her against the thick column of his own want. Shit. She wanted it. Wanted him. Clutching at the back of his head, she couldn’t have him close enough. Why hadn’t they done this the previous night? Why weren’t they doing this every damn minute of the day?
Tendrils of cool air on her spine proceeded the rasp of her dress zipper. With no warning, he slammed her down, knocking the wind out of her. The creep of his sly smile might have been sinister if it wasn’t for the glaze in his alight gaze. Whatever chemistry was at work between them, he was hooked too.
In that second, it wasn’t possible to say no. Instinct moved her as he wanted her to move, under his spell, his control, his authority. Sliding the dress from her shoulders down to uncover her breasts, he was quick to snatch her hips and jerk her to the edge again.
He bowed, unbuckling his belt, his lips finding hers as her legs wound around him. A mew of need escaped her throat. It was too fast and too slow. She wanted to be complete. That would only happen if he got his goddamn cock out his pants faster and—
“Ire!”
A masculine shout came from the corner. The man on top of her twisted and there was a shot. A gunshot. A scream. Whose scream?
Still panting, it took a second to register the anger on the profile of the man locked in the embrace of her legs.
“Shit, Dingo, what the fuck did you…?”
That was a third voice. Niall, maybe.
“Get him the fuck out of here before I finish him,” the guy above her snarled, his accent thick.
The startling venom in those words brought her to her elbows. Dazed by endorphins, the view was almost unbelievable. Niall was there, with two others, picking up an unknown guy. Blood. There was blood all over the front of the stranger’s shirt. He was injured. Shot. Her mouth opened slow. Someone put a bullet in him, and Ire was the only man holding a gun.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE STARTLING CLUNK of a weapon hitting the desk came at the same time her legs were pushed down and her hand grabbed. They were moving. Where were they…? The bleeding guy and those helping him went down the stairs. Her playmate led her the other way, through the curtain in the corner into a small square hall. Stairs up and a door next to them.
Up was their route. Where were they going? What was…? At the top of the stairs, he doubled back, rounding the hip-high wall separating the stairs from the floor. It was a living room. Was it?
She didn’t take much of it in before they passed through an open section in the wall. A bedroom. Oh, she knew what that was.
The gun in his other hand caught the light as he tossed it to the floor by the end of the low-profile bed.
“You shot that guy,” she said as he took her waist to pull her in front of him, the bed at her back. “Why did you do that?”
“He interrupted,” he said, hooking an arm around her to drag her zipper down the rest of the way.
Her dress fell to the floor. “You shot him. That’s…” A complete overreaction? Alone in the shadowy space, it wouldn’t be wise to say that out loud. “You shot him in front of the Police Superintendent’s daughter.”
Probably not smart to remind him of that either.
“Aye,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “Now you have leverage.”
“Leverage…”
When his shirt went so did her concerns. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to attractive men. Healthy, fit, muscular men who had to spend half their life at the gym to look that good. At least this guy had reason. In his line of work, it probably paid to be fit. Who knew when he might next be running or fighting for his life?
Sweeping the hair back from her shoulders, he didn’t ask before unhooking her bra and freeing her arms. “You’re a beauty, cailín.”
Drawn to the stag head silhouette tattooed high on his chest, just beneath his left clavicle, her fingertips rose to touch it. For a few seconds, she traced the shape. He didn’t linger and dipped to suck the side of her neck, piercing her with a pleasurable pain that took her right back to where they’d been.
Snagging her hand, he guided it to his loose belt. He wanted this. She wanted this.
“This is a bad idea,” she said, loosening his fly. “We shouldn’t do this.” He squeezed her breast, tweaking the tip and massaging her with his palm while trailing his lips up to her jaw again. Though her mouth was tempted toward his, she found enough strength to lay a hand over that tattoo and push him back to meet his eye. “You’re dangerous.”
“Taste’s good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, seizing her hips to toss her to the middle of the bed.
She was naked. How did that happen? How did she get herself there? And, shit, he was right. Being with him tasted better than anything that had ever passed her lips. Stroking the black silk sheets, she watched him strip down and crawl onto the bed, continuing over her until she was flat on her back beneath him.
