Chapter 38 Rook
ROOK
After training and a few rounds of sparring at the gym, I arrived home to the sounds of feminine laughter and Finn’s deep amused rumble.
I dropped my training bag near the kitchen and followed the noise to the terrace, where Finn, Orla, and Asha sat around the glowing fire bowl. Two wine bottles rested on the table. One empty, the other on its last legs.
The girls’ wineglasses sloshed as they cackled. Finn spotted me first and attempted to rein in his laughter, but when the women noticed me, they burst into another fit of giggles. Orla wiped tears from her eyes. Asha clutched her stomach like she’d laughed herself sore.
Why did I get the feeling I was going to regret letting those two lasses spend time together?
“Hey, Boss,” Finn said between wheezes. “What’s the craic?”
A half-drunk bottle of water sat on the armrest of his chair. Good lad. Beasts on protective detail were forbidden to drink.
I zeroed in on a glassy-eyed Asha. Despite the cool evening air, her fair skin was flushed.
Fantastic. My wife was drunk.
“How many has she had?” I asked Finn.
“She can answer for herself.” Asha sat taller. “I’ve had three. No, wait.” She counted off on her fingers, paused, then counted again. “Four. Plus champagne at lunch.”
Christ almighty.
Finn held his palms up. “She ate first. I made sure.”
Orla sipped her wine. “After dress shopping, we had lunch at Maison Lumière. It was très magnifique.” She made a chef’s kiss gesture and sighed.
“I know.” I pinned my cousin with a look. “I saw the thirteen-grand charge to my credit card.”
She raised her glass. “That would be the two bottles of aged Dom Pérignon.”
“Uh-oh.” Asha covered her grin. “Bad Sugar Daddy looks mad that we spent his money.”
Bad Sugar Daddy? What the fuck?
And I wasn’t mad.
I was jealous.
Orla and Finn had spent the whole day with Asha, wining and dining and by all appearances having a grand time. The trio looked thick as thieves.
I wanted to be the one putting that smile on her face.
I wanted to be the one getting all of Asha’s attention.
I’d had it for one night, and fuck me, it was the best of my life. What did I have to do to earn it again?
Asha licked her lips. “So you’re not upset about the five-thousand-dollar tip?”
I blinked. “What was so fantastic it earned five grand, Wife?”
“Philippe.” Asha let out a dreamy sigh. “He was amazing, Rook. Worth every penny.”
Visions of an overchatty server making eyes at my woman clouded my vision red. “Was he?” My voice hardened. “Philippe better be the name of the duck you ate for lunch and not some flirty French wanker; otherwise I’ll put him through a mincer and burn the restaurant to ash.”
“Jaysus.” Orla shook her head.
Asha sipped her wine, eyes glimmering with smug satisfaction.
You little witch.
The drink must’ve made her bold, but if she knew what punishment I had in mind for her, she’d be a hell of a lot more contrite.
I dragged in a breath. “Anyone want to tell me what was so funny when I walked in?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Orla rested her wineglass on the side table.
“I was just telling these guys about the time you shot Penny Malone in the arse with your slingshot. Do you remember how she beat the shite out of you, then made you strip naked and walk home cupping your cock and balls?”
That set them off again.
I crossed my arms. “Kinda hard to forget something like that, Orla. Thanks for bringing it up.”
“You’re welcome, Knuckles.” Orla’s eyes flared at the nickname. One Asha clearly hadn’t heard before. “Cuz, I have to tell them the story about why we call you that.”
I stabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Yes, yes!” Asha clapped and bounced in her seat.
“Knuckles?” Finn frowned. “You mean it’s not because of all the bare-knuckle fights back in Derry?”
“Fuck me.” I grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swig. Talk about getting thrown under the bus by my own flesh and blood.
“When Rook was three, he had this manky stuffed bear he dragged everywhere. Called it Mr. Snuggles, but he couldn’t say it right, and it came out like Knuckles. One day, the bear went missing. He cried for hours, walking up and down the street wailing Mr. Knuckles, Mr. Knuckles. So the name stuck.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Thanks, Orrie.”
“Mr. Snuggles?” Asha clutched her chest. “That’s adorable.”
“I bet he still has that filthy thing,” Orla added.
“Right.” I pointed toward the elevator. “Everyone, get the fuck out. I’m taking my wife to bed.”
Asha frowned. “Party pooper.”
“You’ve done enough partying for one day, pet. Give me that.” I gestured for Asha’s wineglass. With a huff, she handed it over, and I put it on the table. Then I hauled her to her feet, threw her over my shoulder, and strode inside. The others could let themselves out.
“Hey!” Asha shrieked, pounding my back. “Put me down!”
I smacked her arse. “Quit wriggling.”
She squirmed harder, so I spanked her again. “They’ve had you all day. You’re mine now.”
I carried her through the apartment and into the en suite, where I set her on the bathroom counter.
She brushed her unbound hair from her face and stared daggers at me. “You don’t get to act like a caveman and boss me around.”
I stepped between her thighs, hands braced on either side of her hips, caging her in. “Go ahead and pretend you don’t like it, but we both know you do.”
Her green eyes widened, but she didn’t push me away. This close, I could count every perfect freckle across her petite nose. She smelled of red wine, my shampoo, and pure fucking temptation. All I wanted was to nuzzle her neck and inhale.
I kept my voice low. “Did you have fun today?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes. I had a fantastic time because you weren’t there.”
“If you missed me, just say that.”
She eyed my sweaty gym clothes. “Where have you been?”
“Aidan and Orla’s gym. I go there most days. Usually shower and change before I come home.”
“That explains why you look the way you do.”
I tugged my singlet off and tossed it aside. “And how’s that, Wife?”
Her gaze roamed my chest before snapping back to mine. She wrinkled her nose. “Hideous. Like you’ve been hit in the face too many times. You must not be very good at fighting.”
“Bare-knuckle champ in Derry three years running.”
She tapped her chin. “Was that before or after Penny Malone handed you your ass?”
“Why do you think I learned how to fight? The only person I’ve lost to since then is Aidan. And Orla once, but I’d drunk a bottle of whiskey before running my mouth off at her, so that doesn’t really count.”
She snorted. “Oh, it definitely counts.”
“Aye.” I grinned. “She doesn’t let me forget it, either.”
A beat passed. Asha’s eyes dropped to my mouth, and she bit her lip.
Jesus.
I could still see her on her knees, those lips wrapped around my cock, taking me deep until her eyes welled.
“You find a pretty dress for the party?” I asked.
She nodded in an exaggerated way. Asha was cute when she was drunk.
I arched a brow. “Twenty-two grand from Valentino. Must be some dress.”
“You’re going to lose your shit when you see me in it, gangster.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I bought shoes, too.”
“No. I bought you shoes. Did you enjoy spending my money today?”
“I think you mean our money, Husband, because you”—she pressed one finger into my pec and kept it there—“forgot to make me sign a prenup.”
“Aye, Wife. Our money, indeed. And I didn’t forget. I never wanted a prenup.”
Once her investigation was over, Asha could name her price. I’d give her anything.
She stared at me curiously. “So you’re not mad that I spent so much?”
“Were you trying to make me mad?”
She shrugged in the most adorable fucking way. “A little bit.”
“I’m not mad, love.” I leaned in closer, and her warm palm flattened on my chest but offered no resistance. “I’d buy you the whole goddamn store if it made you happy.”
Asha’s brow knitted. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Buy the store?”
“No. Make me happy.”
How did I explain to Asha that for so long, my life had been driven by family, loyalty to the Beasts, and vengeance? That somehow, she’d dethroned them all.
She would think I’d lost my mind.
I thought I’d lost my mind.
There was no easy answer to Asha’s question, so I went with a bullshite one instead.
“Happy staff work better.” I ran my finger along her collarbone, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you buy anything else? Lacy underwear, perhaps?”
“I don’t think I should answer that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t seem to decide if I’m your wife or an employee. Do I need to call HR and tell them my hot boss is shirtless, standing between my thighs, and asking inappropriate questions?”
“You can phone whoever you want if you call me hot again.”
She blinked. “I never said that.”
“You did, love. You called me your hot boss.”
“I’m tipsy and tired. I can’t be held accountable for every dumb thing I say.”
“You’ve been flirting with me since we got to the bathroom.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, gangster.” She poked my chest again. “Three glasses of wine and I’d flirt with a toaster.”
“A toaster can’t make you come.”
“No. But I could throw it in the tub while you’re soaking.”
“Bad wife.”
“Shut up. You like me bad.”
Aye. I really fucking did.
Asha’s heated eyes scanned my torso, taking in every detail until she landed on a small circular scar just below my ribs. “Is that what I think it is?” She ran her finger over the raised flesh.
I nodded. “I have another one on my back where the bullet went right through.” I guided her other hand there so she could feel it.
Fuck. Her soft hands on me were…everything. I couldn’t stop a moan from slipping past my lips as a tremor rippled through me.
She stilled. “Are my hands cold?”
I shook my head. “No. I like them on me.”
She held my gaze, her eyes flicking between mine like she was searching for something, testing a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.
But Asha’s hands didn’t retreat. Instead, they roamed. Her touch trailed over my scars and tattoos, hesitant at first, then more deliberate.
I didn’t move. I let her explore, nervous that if I reacted too strongly, it would spook her and break the spell.
“Tell me about this one,” she murmured, touching my side.
“Stab wound. Five years ago.”
She winced. “Ouch.”
“Aye. Hurt like a proper bastard.”
“What about up here?” She traced her fingertips above my eyebrow.
“Brawling. Same as this one.” I pointed to the small scar on my upper lip, mostly hidden by facial hair. “I’ve shown you mine; now you show me yours.”
I’d already seen them. During our night together, I’d committed every inch of Asha’s skin to memory.
She yanked her sweater over her head.
I froze. A ragged breath left my lungs.
Christ almighty.
Tight white top with thin straps. No bra.
I could even make out the rose pink of Asha’s areolas and peaked nipples. My dick had already been standing at attention being this near to her. It was rock-hard now.
A growl rumbled in my chest. “Is this what you wore all day?”
“Does it matter?” She arched one brow innocently, as if she weren’t driving me to thoughts of murdering any man who’d laid eyes on her.
I bristled. “You know it does.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know how many pricks’ eyeballs I’m removing. That’s why.”
Asha’s mouth twitched.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
She batted her lashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been toying with me all day. Spending big, flirting with Philippe, walking around like this.” I gestured to her chest. “Every prick at that restaurant is probably wanking over my wife’s gorgeous fucking tits.”
She looked at me as though I was a dumb twat. “No one’s wanking over my tits.”
I raised a hand. “Aye, they are.”
“You don’t count.” She straightened, which only brought her chest closer to mine. “Fine. Maybe I have been playing with you today. You can’t blame me for wanting a little payback.”
I supposed I deserved that. Respected her for it, even. Didn’t mean I liked it.
“God, look at you, Mr. Cranky Pants. So uptight.” She ran a finger down the center of my brow, trying to work out the creases. “Relax, gangster. I only took my bra off after we got home. No one saw me like this. No one but you.”
No one but me.
Why did that soothe me so much? And why was I so consumed with having her all to myself?
Asha was a beautiful, intelligent, inspiring woman—not a possession. But fuck me, if any bastard tried to tell me she wasn’t mine, I’d snap their neck.
“And I should probably tell you that Philippe mentioned his boyfriend no fewer than three times, so please don’t hurt him.” She glanced at her tits, then hit me with an impish grin. “You think they’re gorgeous?”
“Christ, woman, if you had your hand on my cock right now, you wouldn’t ask.”
“What if”—Asha’s gaze dipped again, this time to the bulge in my shorts—“I wanted to know for sure?”
Mother have mercy. She didn’t know what those words did to me. How they made my pulse quicken and blood rush through my veins. I was fucking desperate to have her hands wrapped around my dick.
But she was drunk, and if I fucked her now, she might never forgive me. She might never forgive herself. “That’s the drink talking,” I said.
“I know, but it’s still what I want.”
I exhaled slowly, trying not to lose control. “Why?”
She scoffed. “Jesus, Rook. Just tell me if you want me or not.”
“I want you more than my next breath. I’ve had a constant hard-on since you moved in.
My balls ache. I can’t sleep. But if you touch me now, Asha, I’ll lose what little restraint I have and fuck you right here on this counter.
Fast. Hard. Deep. And I won’t stop until you moan my name and forget every reason you’ve tried to stay angry at me. ”
She made a small whimpering noise.
Which wasn’t a no.
But, fuck, she’d hate me even more tomorrow if I took advantage of her like that.
I exhaled a ragged breath. “But you’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk.”
“What are you asking for, Wildfire?”
Her brow pinched. “I…I don’t know.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
She groaned. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
“Because I’ve seen you wake up full of regret before, and I don’t ever want to be the cause of that again. So, unless this is about you and only you, I’m not doing it.”
She stared at me, lips parted. “What does that mean?”
I pressed my knuckles against the counter but stayed between her thighs. “It means you’re in charge. You tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
She couldn’t be angry with me later if all I did was follow her orders.
“You’d let me be in control?”
“Aye. For you, I would.”
Her gaze searched mine. “Whatever happens tonight, it won’t change anything between us.”
“If that’s what you want. Tomorrow, you can go back to hating me. But know this. Every time you walk past me. Every time you smile, or laugh, or fucking breathe near me. This”—I caught her hand and placed it over my racing heart—“is what you do to me.”
A flush crept up her neck, and the boldness from earlier returned to her eyes. “In that case, take off the rest of your clothes.”