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My hand moved of its own free will, snaking under his jacket and pulling him closer. I felt powerful, cherished. He tasted like oak-aged whiskey, the good kind that melts on your tongue. Connor groaned as I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth. It was a quiet thing, barely above a whisper, but just hearing it made my thighs melt, and I deepened the kiss, wanting to hear that sound again. Tugging him closer, wanting to feel—
Connor pulled away.
I almost stumbled at the abruptness of it and had to catch myself against the damn bricks. Connor was staring down the block. The car I had seen earlier turned left, disappearing from view.
He brushed at some imaginary lint on his clothes, or maybe it was just the feel of me. Cleared his throat. “Where’d you say your car was parked?”
“What?” My voice didn’t sound like my own.
“Your car. Let’s go.”
I just stared at him, floored by his curt tone. Ice-man was back, and—wait, yes, there it was. Murder-glare had joined the party as well. Connor was glaring at me, his eyes flit grey again and without a hint of warmth.
I pulled away when he tried to take my arm. “What the hell was that?”
For a second, he looked confused, and for a second, I thought maybe I was having a delayed neurological reaction to the concussion and had imagined the whole thing. Even that would have been a more plausible excuse than what he came up with.
Connor pointed at the parking lot entrance where that car had been sitting. “The Russians were camped out, likely waiting for you. They can’t be trusted, so I gave them a little show and made sure they knew who you belonged to. Nice job, by the way.”
I wanted to slug him. I wanted to curl up and die. Spinning on my heels, I marched towards my Volvo, my cheeks so red with embarrassment I thought I’d incinerate on the spot.
“Hey. Slow down.”
I didn’t. I felt so stupid. It all made sense now. The whole thing had been a ruse. One soft touch from Connor, and I had melted for the Irishman like butter.
“Are you angry with me?” Connor had fallen into step beside me. “Is this about the kiss?”
“You think?” My voice hit an embarrassing octave as I fumbled in my purse for my keys.
Connor leaned against the car and cocked his head. “You seemed to like it well enough.”
“Just stop talking.”
Any humor in his face drained away, and he scowled. “It was just a kiss. People need to see us together, and they need to truly believe you’re mine if we’re going to keep you safe. We’re going to be married in a couple days. You are going to have to get used to it.”
I ripped open the car door and threw my purse in. Now that he’d explained, I felt all the more foolish for not recognizing the danger and for letting myself believe that the bastard actually might have been different. That the kiss might have been real.
Connor braced his hands on the roof and stared me down when I didn’t unlock the passenger door. “I’m going with you.”
“Like hell, you are.”
“Cassidy.”
“Tommy’s staying the night with me, he’ll make sure the big bad mafiosos won’t kill me before I make it to the altar.” My voice dripped with every ounce of frustration and contempt I felt over the position I was in. I didn’t want to play house with any of the McTiernan Boys, but if I had to pick, it would’ve been my brother. Tommy, I could handle.
“It was just a kiss, Cass."
“Don’t call me that.” I slammed the door. Praying the car would actually start the first time and closing my eyes in thanks when it did, I shifted into drive.
Just a kiss,he said.Get over it.I rolled down the window and paused where Connor was standing, arms crossed over his chest and clearly disapproving.
“Kiss me like that again,” I promised, “and I will surgically remove your balls and send them back to Ireland.”
Late Sunday afternoon, I found myself sitting at a small makeup table and staring into the mirror at a stranger in a wedding dress with flowers in her hair.
Two bodyguards stood outside the door of the bridal suite.
Both dressed in black tie formalwear that disguised the lethality underneath, they stood there, unmoving and solemn, protecting the pre-marital squeals and titters of the bridal party within. Both were carrying concealed weapons. They looked absurd, but I’d be damned if I couldn’t come up with a better metaphor for how the next year of my life going to play out.
