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“But she’s here to spy,” Cara whispers guiltily, scared to cross her sister but desperate to gain my trust.
“I know. We know,” I hum, cupping the back of her neck and sweeping back in to latch our mouths together. She tastes like berries, and I groan, slotting our bodies together and grinding her into the door.
“You do?” she whimpers.
“Fuck, Cara, he could have killed you.” I drop my head to hers and unbutton her trousers. “I wouldn’t be able to kiss this mouth or swallow your cries.” Her eyes whip up to meet mine. “You play devil's advocate so freely with something that is mine.”
“I thought you were going to kill me.” Her lip wobbles, and I kiss her deeply because the fear of losing her is rotting into the loyalty I hold for Connor.
“I needed to teach you a lesson. He needed to see me teach you.” I breathe against her mouth. Fuck. I'm in deep with this woman. My feelings for her have come out of nowhere. A slow tide lapping in my mind until it built into a tsunami and crashed through me. I feel this possessive need to protect her. Devour her. It’s an emotion I don’t understand or wish to explore. She needs to accept it because I refuse to let her put herself in harm's way any longer.
“I’m sorry.” She lets me tug her clothes off and then she is scrambling up into my arms so I can walk us to the bed.
“That ring doesn’t protect you from Connor,” I whisper against her mouth. “I only have so much leeway. If he feels wronged by you regardless of who I am to him, he will punish you, Cara.” I lower her to the bed and brace myself above her.
“But—”
“No.” I grip her face. “No buts,” I enforce quietly. “You don’t get to take yourself from me. I didn't expect this, you. I love the chaos, Cara. I really fucking love it. The pain, the power. I need it.”
“I know.” She cups my face.
“No, doll, you don’t. I need you, too. Between the mayhem, amidst the chaos, I need you. Stop playing with death.”
“What are you saying?”
I look at her as I undress myself. “I’m obsessed with your little Irish arse.” I grin and climb over her. Small hands wrap around my forearms, and she wiggles her legs apart to accommodate me as she battles a smile. “I’m saying I don't want this to be an arrangement. This isn’t an arrangement for me anymore,” I proclaim, positioning myself at her slick entrance and nudging my way in. She's warm and wet, and I groan as I slide deep. “Fuck, doll, you feel damn good.” Leveraging myself up, I move. She meets with an eagerness I’m trying to fight against. “Slow, Cara, let me savour you.”
“This feels different,” she whispers. Her cheeks are dotted with pink blushes, her mouth apart as she moans lightly.
Threading our hands, I raise them above her head and lean to kiss her, thrusting softly, my pelvis grinding against her awaiting hips. “I know it is different. It will be different from now on.” I raise my gaze to her, and her face contorts as she moans in relief.
“I thought you were going to punish me,” she mewls as I pump deeper. Her legs draw up, curling around my back, and her nails dig into my skin in anticipation.
“I am. Falling in love with me is a life sentence. It’s the worst kind of punishment because you’ll feel the pain of it every day. The fear of losing me, the worry of waiting for me to return home each night. It’ll be hell.” I know she is already in love with me. “But I’m going to fuck you so slow, Cara, so late into each night that you can no longer think straight, so late that it’ll make all the other hours bearable.”
“But you love me?” Her voice catches, her gaze vulnerable. Hopeful.
I trace her eyebrow and press my mouth to hers in a light kiss. “I’m falling headfirst, doll, and I don’t want to come up for air.”
CHAPTER TEN
CARA
It’s barely six am and I’m standing outside Connor’s office. Ronan was gone after five to train and I heard his boss return not too long ago. I tap once, and after a few tense moments, he asks me to enter.
“Most people await an invitation for an audience with me. You don’t get to jump the queue because you live under this roof,” he delivers coldly as I step over the threshold.
“I can leave.” My grip is tethered to the door handle, too scared to let go.
“You're here now. Come, sit.” He nods to the chair opposite his desk. There is something about the way he tilts his head, how his eyes glimmer with a sadistic shine that both propel me towards the chair but has the air rushing from my lungs. There’s something very unhinged about Connor, a darkness that exceeds my husband's greed for pain. An evil that protrudes from his pores. I lower to the seat and knit my hands on my lap, but he taps the top and motions with his finger. “Hands. I like to be able to see where they are. You’d be surprised what people can achieve when they have freedom to move their hands unseen.”
I oblige, lifting to rest them against the cool wood. No sooner are they on the surface that Connor moves so fast, he yanks me to him, slamming my chest into the thick wood, winding me. I cry out, wheezing, as the air is forced to take flight. He closes the short gap between our faces.
“If you ever pull the shit you did the other day, I will take each of these digits and snap them off.” To prove his point, he grips hard, applying unthinkable pressure and there is a small crack as the bone in my little finger gives way, breaking. I cry out, whimpering, and the door swings open. “Ah, Ronan, your wife needs medical attention.”
I’m thrust back, and I cup my hand, panting.
“Cara, come here,” Ronan snaps, and I walk quickly to him, but he steps to the side and watches as I cross into the foyer. “Go, find Isaiah. He’s in the kitchen.” I gulp back the shock and blink away my tears. Before I’m out of earshot, I hear my husband say, “I will give you the skin off my back, the blood in my veins.”
