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“Declan, you’re scaring me,” she admitted softly, her hand coming up to rest against my cheek. I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch. It grounded me, provided a small comfort in the havoc that was raging within.
“I don’t mean to, Clover,” I murmured, my hand finding hers and entwining our fingers together. “I never want to scare you.”
A silence fell over us, my confession hanging heavy in the air. It was the truth, yes, but it was only part of it, a fraction of the storm that was coming. And as much as I wanted to protect her from it, I couldn’t help but feel that I was dragging her right into my mess.
I drew in a deep breath, steeled my nerves. “Hank knows,” I admitted, my voice a low rasp in the silence. “He knows everything.”
The shock on her face cut me deep. I could see her mind working in overdrive, connecting the dots, grappling with the implications. “He . . . what? What does that mean, Declan?”
“It means he wants me to do something, Clover,” I continued, my words slow, deliberate. “And it’s something that puts you at risk.”
Her hand squeezed mine, her breath hitching in her throat. “What is it, Declan?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What does he want you to do?”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head. “What matters is that I’m going to make sure you’re safe. No matter what.”
“Why . . . why do you work for him, Declan?” Clover asked, the question hanging in the air like an unspoken accusation.
The truth was ugly. It was a raw, open wound, one that I’d carried around for years. I was a mercenary, drifting from gang to gang, my only loyalty to the highest bidder. But Hank, he offered more than just money.
“I’m usually a contract hire, floating from one job to the next,” I admitted. “But Hank . . . Hank has something else. Information about the man who killed my mother.”
Clover’s eyes widened. “Your mother?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. Apparently, the man who did it was a rodeo rider who used to work for Hank. He’s the only one who might know who he is.”
The revelation hung between us, a dark and bitter truth. But it was out now, exposed and undeniable. We were caught in Hank’s dangerous game, our fate intertwined with the brutal whims of a mobster cowboy.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll let him hurt you,” I declared, my stare holding hers, my words a promise, a vow. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Clover. Not now, not ever.”
The fear in her eyes didn’t dissipate, but there was a new look there, one of understanding, of acceptance.
She knew the threats we faced; she understood the stakes. But she was still here, still with me. As if to affirm that, she reached up, her fingers trailing a path up my arm, over my shoulder, her touch lighting up my skin.
And then she was leaning in, her eyes holding mine captive as she bridged the gap between us. Her lips met mine in a soft, desperate kiss, an intimate collision that sent shockwaves through my entire body.
It was a carefully calibrated dance, a skillful negotiation of teeth and lips, tongues seeking and finding in a rhythm that was all our own. I tasted the sweetness of her breath, felt the gentle press of her tongue against mine, a teasing invitation that I was all too willing to accept.
Her hands found their way to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss, while mine settled on her waist, pulling her flush against me. I could feel the heat of her body searing through the thin fabric of her clothes, could sense the rapid beat of her heart matching pace with mine.
We broke apart after a long moment, both of us panting and starry-eyed. My eyes fell on her, taking in the flushed cheeks, the slightly swollen lips, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She was beautiful, a vision of strength and vulnerability that brought me to my knees.
A moment of confusion washed over me. “Clover,” I asked, my brow furrowing, “what was that for?” I was caught off guard. She’d always been so reserved, so careful with her feelings. But this . . . this was different.
Her eyes, glazed over with a sheen of unshed tears, met mine. There was something in her expression, a turmoil that reflected the chaotic whirlpool of emotions I was feeling.
“I just . . . I just wanted to kiss you,” she said simply, her voice trembling. But the simplicity of her words didn’t mask the depth of the sentiment behind them.
And then, before I could react, she was pulling me in again. This time, the kiss was different. It was slower, more deliberate, filled with a sad kind of urgency that resonated with the fear lurking at the back of my mind.
Her fingers tangled in my hair as she kissed me with an enthusiasm that took my breath away. There was a hint of desperation in the way her lips moved against mine, a silent plea that sent a pang of guilt through my chest. This kiss tasted of longing and farewell, of unspoken fears and unfulfilled desires.
It was a goodbye of sorts, a premonition of pain that we both wanted to ignore in the moment. And so, for a few minutes more, we let ourselves be swept away by the power of the kiss. We explored each other’s mouths with greedy fingers and tongues, tasting and savoring all there was between us.
And then her hands were moving lower, trailing down my chest and abdomen until they reached their destination. She dipped below the waistband of my boxers and pulled out my cock. The feel of her soft hand wrapped around me felt so good I couldn’t help but moan softly in pleasure as she stroked me slow and steady. My heart was racing as she pumped her hand up and down my shaft, making it swell.
A crackle of electricity filled the air, expanding with each passing second. My desperate hands clawed at her clothing as I dragged her body close to me. Her movements were liquid gold, melting my heart and sending flutters of anticipation coursing through my veins. My cock throbbed hungrily as she lowered herself onto it inch by agonizing inch.
A gasp escaped her lips as her tight warmth engulfed me. I grasped her hips, steadying them as she rode out the carnal pleasure that overwhelmed us both. I felt like I was being consumed by a wild inferno, awareness of time and place evaporating in the overwhelmingness of our passion. Her hips rolled against mine, a steady rhythm coaxing me ever closer to ecstasy.
