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I left her wanting more. She’ll use me. Not battery-less Rocco.
Sex with Jillian the first time set off a time bomb, but I knew she’d never let me touch her again.
Now, all I see is more fucking in our future. And in the dirtiest, kinkiest ways. A way she won’t feel like she’s betraying an oath she made to lady justice.
In the bathroom, the scratch on my cheek halts me. I can’t show up now. She’ll ask me what happened, and I’ll break. Tell her what I did.
With my vision compromised from all the reckless thoughts, I run the cold water in the shower and step under it.
I have to calm down and force myself to take deep breaths under the blast of icy water.
Why should I care what that scratch on my face looks like, when Lachlan got seventy stitches under his eye and women still lined up to fuck him. Until he decided to steal a Bratva princess bringing us to the brink of war.
My brothers and I have come far in the last two years. Ten years ago, we raised hell in the streets before my da retired and passed the crown to Kieran.
Now Kieran’s a dad. I guess it’s in our O’Rourke blood to breed. The image of Jillian pregnant with my wee-one inside sends my erection into a tailspin as I come all over the shower tile without me even touching myself.
What the hell?
I’m in so much trouble. But one thing is true, she is mine. One way or another, I will have her. In every way.
No. Matter. What.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jillian
On Friday, I hobble through the lobby of the Charter Hotel toward the elevator for my meeting with Eoghan.
He’s so intense with me, I wonder if he’ll see it in my eyes how I got fucked last night. Heck, he might smell Johnny on me. A man that potent leaves a scent that no amount of coconut bodywash can erase.
Ow… Ow…
I’m walking like I rode a horse for ten hours straight.
Well, I sort of did. The guy was hung like one and even though he wasn’t inside me for ten hours, the damage is done.
The elevator door opens to Eoghan’s villa, and I walk in, pushing past the pain. Several steps into the kitchen, the smell of coffee hits me. My eyes flash on the brewmaster spout simmering drops into a full, steamy pot.
“Bless you.” I put the briefcase down on the raised counter and help myself to a cup.
“Good morning,” Eoghan’s thick, rich brogue greets me from behind.
My body twinges, half-wishing Johnny spoke with an accent. Because damn, that lilt gets me going.
“Good morning. I helped myself to coffee.”
“You can have anything you want, sparkles.” He hovers behind me.
I’d tell him what I really want right now, but I won’t be able to walk.
“Just the coffee.” I turn around and gasp. “What happened to your face?”
He freezes and fingers the three-inch vertical ragged scratch on his right cheek. “Rough night.”
Between my pussy and his face…
I giggle into my coffee. “Rough, how?”
