27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
T o anyone else, it seems like I’m focused on the fight in the cage, but I’m not taking in any of it. From time to time, Finn inclines his head in to murmur a bit of strategy in my ear, and I nod along while his words run right through me. The rage in me is bottomless, unending, and it’s directed at Lorcan. It’s irrational, I understand that much. But I can’t figure out how to contain it. His face in the hallway, his part in reselling the women and children, the way he’s so engaged in the fight as though what’s happening between us doesn’t mean anything—all of it keeps my anger boiling below the surface.
During every round, bar staff come to the first few rows to gather drink orders. The three of us pound beer after beer as though there’s enough alcohol to drown out the tension.
When they cart the final unconscious, bloodied man out of the ring, Finn claps his hands in response to his betting prowess, and I stand up, ready to be done with it.
“What no autograph from the winner, a selfie, nothing?” His eyes laugh at me, and he chugs back the last of his beer.
I stumble, and Lorcan’s hand snakes out around a seated Finn to steady me. With a yank, I free my elbow but almost fall face-first into Finn’s lap. As he rises from his seat, he helps stabilize me.
“Easy, tiger.” He drops his empty cup to the ground.
“I thought I was a cougar.”
“Tiger, cougar.” He makes a dismissive motion with his hand.
“What the hell are you two on about?”
“Private joke.” I avoid Lorcan’s probing gaze. Let him stew on that.
“You and Finn have private jokes now?”
“Seems like.” I extract myself from Finn’s grip and shuffle the few seats to the end of the aisle. The rest of the crew is watching the three of us with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Only Antonio peers at me with anything resembling concern.
When I get close, he leans in. “You all right?”
“No. I need to go back to the house and crash. Switch off my brain.”
“You riding up front again?”
“Yeah.”
The men scatter around, forming a barrier between us and anyone else. With a deep breath, I blink my eyes and force myself to focus. To be this drunk, I had to be too lost in my own head. I never get this blotto when I’m on the job. It’s a bad idea. I couldn’t defend myself right now even if I wanted to, and tomorrow will be an epic hangover.
The entire ride, I picture Lorcan and Finn sitting in the back, sizing each other up while I try to stay conscious, and Antonio drives with ease. As soon as we file in the door, Ian approaches Finn and jerks his head in the direction of the basement.
Finn examines me, his distaste evident. “Go sleep it off. You’re no good to anybody like this.”
As he strides toward the basement stairs, I yell after him, “I’m a person, Finn. I don’t have to be good for anyone but myself sometimes.”
Lorcan and I are left in the entranceway, staring at each other for an extra beat. There’s so much I want to say, and none of those words can leave my lips.
“Bed. I’m going to bed.” I step down the hall. Lorcan comes with me. “Alone.”
Lorcan chuckles. “My rooms are this way.”
“Don’t.” I wag a finger. “Don’t turn on that accent like a faucet. It’s not going to work.”
“Pity. I was hoping it might dampen”—his gaze connects with mine—“your dislike of me.”
“I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No. Unless it’s related to work, actual business you and I have together, we’re nothing.” I head to my rooms, half expecting him to follow me.
He doesn’t.
At first, the pounding is part of my dream. As I try to puzzle out why there’s a door in my beachy scene, my conscious brain kicks in, and Lorcan’s voice follows the noise. I jolt awake.
Jumping out of bed, I expect there to be an emergency the way he’s hitting the door. When I swing it back, the world is still fuzzy. The hangover hasn’t kicked in, but I’m not falling down drunk. Buzzed. Much more acceptable. “Is the house on fire?”
Lorcan’s muscular arms are braced against the doorframe. He smells like whiskey, and his attention trails over me, hot with desire.
Why is he staring at me like that? Oh no . I went to sleep in my bra and underwear. Drunk me is so classy. While holding up a finger, I grab a robe and throw it on, belting it. “So fire? Or police? Or…? Someone’s dead.”
“Oh, someone might be dead. Maybe several someones. Finn’s been downstairs a long time. Not why I’m here, though.” He slants deeper into the doorway.
“Well, if there’s nothing work related.” I start to close the door in his face.
“It’s work related.” He squeezes around me and the half-open door before I can think to stop him.
I cross my arms. “Okay.” I squint at the clock. “What couldn’t wait for another three or four hours?”
“Why are you pissed at me?”
“That’s not work related.”
“It is. I can’t work with someone who is pissed at me.”
“You work fine with Finn.”
“He’s not pissed at me. Least not anymore. I’m pissed at him. ’Tis not the same.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. It matters a hell of a lot when I see you sidled up to my brother like a horse in heat.”
I scrunch my face, stuck on the visual. “Horses sidle up to each other when they’re in heat? I didn’t know that.”
Lorcan lets out a grunt of frustration.
“You can’t be angry with me about that. You hired me to do what I was doing in the hallway.”
“Didn’t think you were actually doing it.”
“Of course I am!”
“I don’t like it.”
“Too bad.”
“I hired you to do that, I can fire you from doing that.”
“Suits me fine.” I throw up my arms and go to the walk-in closet to pull out my suitcase. I toss it on the bed and unzip it.
“What are you doing?”
“You fired me.” Taking a large armful of clothes from my dresser drawers, I chuck them into the suitcase.
“From seducing Finn, not from finding my father’s killer.”
“Well, if you’re going to tie my hands in how I can get information, it’s probably best you fire me.”
“You’re being irrational.” Lorcan moves to the bed and flips the lid on my suitcase so when I throw the next load of my things in that direction they scatter on top of the suitcase and across the bed.
“A man’s first line of defense and offense—call the woman irrational. You know what’s irrational? Showing up at my door in the middle of the night to fire me. That’s irrational.”
“I’m not firing you from the job. I’m firing you from sleeping with Finn.”
“I can sleep with Finn if I want…” I glance at Lorcan and then away. “Or not. My body, my choice.”
We are mere inches apart. My breathing is heavy, labored as though I’ve been doing more than packing. His hazel eyes, when I look up, are darkened with desire. The things I wish for when I look at him can’t be said aloud.
“Choose me,” he murmurs.
“I can’t.” Everything in me strains to give in.
“Why are you mad at me?”
I close my eyes, unable to look at him. “I want you to be better. Better than you are. I know that’s not fair. I thought maybe you were decent, and it turns out you’re just like your brother.” My voice is a whisper now, and the words spill from me. Saying this is reckless.
“I’ll put a stop to the trafficking.”
I open my eyes and our gazes connect. “Finn will be pissed.”
“He’ll understand why I did it.”
“Ah.” I take a step back, prepared to close myself off. “We’re back to that again.”
“No.” His hand grips my elbow gently when I try to move away. “We’re not. I was serious before.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So are you.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“The worst idea I’ve ever had. And I’ve had some doozies. But I can’t help myself. I don’t want to anymore. At some point, the pretend became real.”
I shake my head, my resolve cracking. “You and me—we’re never going to go anywhere. It begins and ends with this job.”
“Sometimes just for now is just as good.”
I search his face, wishing I was more sober or rational or something for this conversation. Hell, possibly in life.
“Say yes, Kim.”
Without a word, I lean forward, loop my hand around the back of his neck and tug him into a kiss. His lips taste like whiskey when they connect with mine, and he gathers me close in one fluid movement. As soon as I’m pressed against him, his hands are everywhere, and we are a wildfire, burning my defenses.
“I take it that’s a yes.” His teeth scrape against my earlobe.
“No talking.” His lips trail along my neck, and a moan escapes me. Lower. Lower. “As a brief aside.” I cling to his shoulders, loving the way his muscles move under my hands. “There was no way I wasn’t going to sleep with you when you can kiss like this. What else can those lips do?”
My robe falls to the floor, and Lorcan angles back to stare at me. “When you answered the door like this, I thought I might collapse on the floor in front of you.” His voice is deep and husky, blending my insides to mush. “You’re gorgeous.”
He tugs on the elastic holding my hair. Tossing it onto the dresser, he digs into my strands and draws me into another kiss.
My hands find the hem of his shirt, and I tug it over his head in one swift movement. Our lips only disconnect long enough for the shirt to clear his face. With a flick of his fingers, my bra releases, and it tumbles to the floor. I slide my hand into his pants and cup his manhood. His groan into my mouth is almost a growl. He murmurs my name over and over like a prayer as though saying it might save us both. When I press my body closer, his fingers peel off my underwear. Lorcan’s hands slip under my thighs, and he lifts me onto the dresser.
His gaze locks with mine as he sinks to his knees and parts my legs. His tongue flicks and darts around my aching center. I grip his hair and show him how I like it. He adapts to my wordless directions, and I throw back my head, caught up in feelings I haven’t had in years. The tension builds at my core, but it’s not enough. I need more.
“Lorcan,” I gasp. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you inside me.”
He kisses his way up my body until he’s at my lips. I push at the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs as he takes a foil package out of his pocket. It’s happening so fast, but I can’t bring myself to care. We’ve been on the cusp of this for months.
“Thought I was a sure thing?” I watch him step out of his pants, rip open the package, then roll it on.
Our gazes connect, and he kisses me again. Against my lips, he says, “Never. I sure as hell hoped.”
One of his large hands brings my butt forward, his tip poised at my entrance. He digs his other hand into my hair, and we stare at each other.
“Tell me again,” Lorcan says.
“I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”
We kiss, and he slides into me. He secures my hips tighter to him, so each thrust rubs us together, drawing me closer to the edge once again.
“You feel so good,” Lorcan whispers in my ear before he bites on my earlobe.
We move together, lost in a haze of sensations and kissing. The tension in me builds to a fevered pitch. I clutch his shoulders, wondering whether I can hold off.
“Lorcan.” My voice is strained to my own ears. I’m so close. “Oh, God, this feels so good.”
“Come for me, baby.”
That’s all it takes. The dam breaks, and wave after wave courses through me. His arms cradle my back, and with a few more thrusts, he follows behind me.
Languid and more relaxed than I’ve been since I arrived, I rest my head against the wall. His lips trail kisses across my shoulders and neck. “Come back to my room.”
“Lorcan.” I kiss his cheek, my hair falling around me like a curtain. “There’s this and then there’s that.” Starting a pattern of sleeping in his room, cuddled up, isn’t good. He may not realize it, but I know too well this won’t end happily.
“I don’t care.”
“You might someday.”
“In the moment, Kim.”
With one finger, I trace the side of his face and along his jaw. When we lock eyes, I can’t deny him. “Okay.”
Such a simple word threatens to start an avalanche across my soul. This slope isn’t just slippery; it might bury me.