Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
I catch Conall's eyes across the hospital waiting room, and the hunger in his stare makes my pussy throb.
Three weeks of working side by side while Father recovers.
Three weeks of stolen glances and barely controlled lust. Three weeks of pretending I don't touch myself thinking about his mouth between my legs every night.
The way he looks at me now—like he wants to fuck me senseless—sends liquid heat straight to my core. His jaw clenches as I cross my legs, the movement making my skirt ride up just enough to drive him crazy. We both know this game we're playing will destroy us.
Neither of us gives a damn anymore.
"Miss Kavanagh?" The doctor's voice shatters the spell. "Your father is asking for you."
I stand on shaky legs, feeling Conall's burning gaze follow every curve of my body. The raw need in his eyes makes my nipples peak against my silk blouse.
"I'll wait here," he says, voice thick with desire.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I might beg him to follow me into the nearest room and finish what we started in his office yesterday—before Eamon walked in.
Father sits propped against hospital pillows, looking frail compared to the king who built our empire from violence and fear. His silver hair lacks its usual perfection, and the stroke has left his face partially paralyzed. But his blue eyes burn with familiar Kavanagh fire.
"Saoirse." The word slurs but carries absolute authority.
"Father." I settle into the chair, my body still humming from Conall's heated stare. "How are you feeling?"
"Better." He studies my face with uncomfortable intensity. "Russian... good match."
Ice floods my veins. "What?"
"Petrov." Each word costs him effort, but his meaning destroys me. "You... marry. Secure... alliance."
I shoot to my feet, rage replacing desire. "You arranged my marriage?"
"Before..." He gestures weakly at himself. "Family... needs... protection."
The betrayal burns through me like poison. "You sold me. While I was becoming everything you claimed to want, you were trading me like a prize mare."
His good hand fists the sheets. "Family... first."
"I am family. I'm your daughter, your blood, your heir." My voice turns deadly quiet. "Not your bargaining chip."
"Petrov... powerful. Alliance... necessary."
"Then make a business deal. Don't pimp out your child."
His eyes flash with the temper I inherited. "You... will... do... duty."
Twenty-six years of believing I mattered to him as more than a womb with the right bloodline. All delusion.
"No." The word rips from my throat. "I won't."
"Family... honor?—"
"Fuck family honor." The curse shocks us both. "I won't be sold to buy your Russian protection."
His face twists with fury, but his weakened body can't match his rage. "You... will... obey."
I back toward the door, my whole body shaking. "Watch me."
I find Conall in the estate's gym, destroying a heavy bag with brutal force. Sweat coats his bare chest as he drives punishing blows into leather. Each strike echoes my heartbreak, my fury, my desperate need for someone who sees me as more than property.
He senses my presence and turns, gray eyes immediately reading my devastation. His hands drop, muscles still coiled with unleashed power.
"What happened?"
"He sold me." The words come out shattered. "To Valentin Petrov. Marriage alliance, arranged before his stroke."
Conall goes deadly still. Pure murder crosses his face. "He told you this?"
"Made it crystal clear." I step closer, drawn by the raw strength radiating from him. "I'm to marry a Russian to secure protection. My duty to spread my legs for the family."
"Over my dead body."
The fierce possessiveness in his voice makes my cunt clench with need. This is what I crave—not gentle comfort, but matching fury. Someone who'll claim me the way I want to be claimed.
"Will you fight him?" I challenge, moving closer until his masculine scent fills my lungs. "Will you fight for me?"
His control shatters. One heartbeat I'm standing, the next he's backing me against the mirrored wall, his body caging mine with delicious dominance. His hands slam against the glass on either side of my head.
"I've wanted you since you turned twenty-one," he growls against my ear, his breath making me shiver. "Watching you grow into this gorgeous, brilliant woman while knowing I could never touch you. Watching other men look at you and wanting to rip their throats out."
His confession sends molten desire through my veins. "Conall..."
"Do you know how many nights I've stroked my cock thinking about you? About your mouth wrapped around me, your tight little pussy squeezing me while you scream my name?"
My knees buckle. "Tell me more."
"Every night for five years." His mouth hovers above mine, sharing breath. "Every night imagining how wet you'd get for me, how you'd beg me to fuck you harder."
I grab his sweat-slick shoulders, nails biting into muscle. "I touch myself thinking about you too. About your hands on my body, your cock stretching me until I can't think."
He makes a sound like a dying man. "Jesus Christ, Saoirse..."
"I'm not marrying Petrov." I stare into his eyes. "I'm not marrying anyone. I belong to you."
His mouth crashes into mine with desperate hunger. This isn't kissing—it's devouring, conquering, years of denied lust exploding between us. I taste salt and need and promises that could destroy us both.
His hands tangle in my hair, destroying my perfect style as he angles my head for deeper access. I respond by biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, making him groan into my mouth.
"Fuck," he breathes against my lips. "You're going to ruin me."
"Good." I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as he lifts me against the mirror. The position presses his hardness exactly where I'm aching for him. "I want to ruin you the way you've ruined me."
He grinds against me through our clothes, the friction making me see stars. "You feel that? You feel how hard you make me?"
"Yes." The word comes out as a whimper. "I need more."
His mouth moves to my throat, teeth scraping sensitive skin. "What do you need, princess? Tell me exactly what you want me to do to this perfect body."
"Everything." I arch against him, desperate for contact. "I want your mouth on my pussy until I come so hard I forget my own name. I want your cock inside me until I can't walk."
"Christ." He pulls back to look at me, pupils blown black with lust. "You're going to kill me with that dirty mouth."
"Not yet." I roll my hips against his erection, making us both gasp. "First you're going to make me come against this mirror while I watch you claim what's yours."
His grip on my thighs turns bruising. "Here? Now?"
"Here. Now. I don't care who might walk in."
The sound he makes is pure animal need. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing my skirt higher. "Please tell me you're not wearing anything under this."
I smile against his mouth. "Find out."
His fingers find bare, slick skin and we both freeze. "Holy fuck, Saoirse."
"I stopped wearing panties around you weeks ago." The confession makes his whole body shudder. "Every meeting, every conversation, every time you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive—I was naked underneath, dripping wet for you."
"You're going to be the death of me." His fingers trace through my wetness, making me whimper. "Do you know what you do to me? How many times I've had to lock my office door and jerk off after you left?"
"Show me." I bite his earlobe. "Show me what I do to you."
His fingers circle my clit and I cry out, the sound echoing off the mirrors. "You're so fucking wet for me already."
"I'm always wet for you." I should be embarrassed by the admission, but his answering groan makes me feel powerful instead. "Touch me more. Please, Conall, I need?—"
The door explodes open.
"Conall, we need to—" Eamon's voice dies as he takes in our position.
Conall doesn't move, doesn't release me. If anything, his grip tightens possessively, his fingers still buried between my legs.
"Get the fuck out," he says without turning around.
My brother's eyes narrow as he looks between us, taking in my flushed face, my hiked-up skirt, Conall's protective stance. "What the hell is going on?"
"I said get out."
"Like hell. She's my sister."
Conall finally turns, keeping his body shielding me from Eamon's view. "Your sister is mine now."
The possessive declaration makes my pussy clench around his fingers, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
"Saoirse?" Eamon's voice carries shock and fury. "What are you doing?"
"What I should have done years ago." I reach for Conall's free hand, our fingers intertwining while his others remain intimately buried in my heat. "I'm choosing him."
"Father will destroy you both."
Conall's smile turns deadly. "He can try."
The promise of violence in his voice, combined with the way his fingers move inside me, makes me tremble with need.
"Get out, Eamon." My voice carries new authority even as pleasure builds. "Now."
My brother stares at us for another heartbeat, then shakes his head. "This is madness."
After he leaves, silence fills the gym except for my ragged breathing. Conall and I stare at each other, the weight of exposure settling between us.
"Everyone will know now," he says quietly, his fingers still working magic between my thighs.
"Good." I rock against his hand, chasing the climax he's building. "I'm tired of hiding how much I want you."
His free hand frames my face with surprising tenderness. "You know what this means? What choosing me will cost you?"
"Everything." I lean into his touch even as my body coils tighter. "My inheritance, my family, my safety. But I don't care anymore."
"They'll come for us."
"Let them." I smile against his mouth as the pressure builds. "I'd rather burn with you than freeze without you."
His answering smile is pure sin. "Then burn we will."
His thumb finds my clit and I shatter, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through me. He swallows my moans with his mouth, his fingers working me through the most intense orgasm of my life.
When I finally come down, trembling in his arms, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I love you," he whispers, the words shattering what's left of my world. "I've loved you for years, and I'll love you until they put me in the ground."
Tears spill down my cheeks because this beautiful, broken man just handed me his heart when it could destroy us both.
"I love you too," I whisper back. "More than family, more than duty, more than my own life."
The admission hangs between us like a sacred vow and a death sentence.
Because loving each other means war with everyone else.