Chapter 4 #2
Home was a four-bedroom farmhouse set over three levels, the third floor being an attic room that had been converted into a huge master, complete with a walk-in closet and separate bathroom.
We were situated at the end of a dirt track and surrounded by a white picket fence along with half an acre of land.
The house looked as if it had been here for a hundred years, except in fact, it was newly built. It was one of the places that my brother owned, which had been burned down by the Burning Sinners MC—a rival club to Atlas’s—a few years before.
The Speed Demons owned and ran a construction company, so Atlas had the place rebuilt to his particular specifications.
The outside had been designed in keeping with the surrounding farms and rural homes that were owned by the townsfolk, but in contrast, the interior was modern with large rooms and high ceilings.
I loved the place and sometimes had to pinch myself that I lived here. Atlas had tried to gift it to me, but I’d turned him down. When I had a steady income, I wanted to get a mortgage and buy it from him, but he refused to take money from me, so we were at a stalemate.
Still, the only way I’d ever leave this house was when they carried me out in a coffin. If I had to take a gift from Danny in order to keep the place, then I would, but I’d put the mortgage money into a separate account and give it to his daughters when they were older.
“Wait,” Donovan ordered quietly. He switched off the engine and threw his door open before slamming it shut and jogging around the hood to open my door.
“Thanks,” I murmured, gingerly hooking my bag over my shoulder and sliding a leg out. Dancing and high heels didn’t mix. Years ago, I wouldn’t have felt a thing, but it had been a while.
“Your feet hurt?” Donny asked, taking my hand and helping me out of the truck.
“Killing me,” I admitted, then let out a little squeak as his hands grabbed my waist and he hauled me into his arms, bridal-style.
“Get the door for me, Deej,” he called out. “Your mom’s feet are sore.”
After a beat, the doors slammed closed, and Donny locked them using the key fob he still held in his hand before setting off for the house.
“Jeez, dude, I can walk you know,” I protested. “I’m too heavy.”
“You questioning my he-man superstrength?” he shot back. “Talk about emasculating a man.”
“Well, I’m not a skinny minnie,” I pointed out, sweeping an arm down my body.
“No, you’re not, thank fuck,” he muttered. “You’re a sexy mama, is what you are, but you’re not heavy. And anyway”—he lowered the timbre of his voice—“me strong like a bull.”
Gabby giggled loudly from behind me.
I rolled my eyes left to right and let out a huff.
Whatever.
“I’ll make sure Barney’s contained,” DJ offered, moving ahead of us and taking out his keys. After climbing the porch steps, he unlocked the front door and headed inside.
By the time Donny had carried me up to the front door, DJ was standing on the porch holding our Border Collie by the collar and trying to slip his lead on.
It wasn’t an easy task, seeing as our dog was excitable to say the least, and the prospect of meeting a new human seemed a bit too much for him because he literally shook with excitement at the sight of Donovan.
“Barney needs walking,” DJ declared. “Gonna take him over the back field and let him off the lead for ten minutes. Mr. Kent’s horses would’ve been stabled hours ago.”
“I’ll come with you,” Gabby offered.
“Can you just make sure the horses are in first, honey?” I asked. “Sometimes he lets them run late in the summer.”
DJ nodded and pulled Barney down the steps toward the field at the back of the house, with Gabby following.
“I like your dog,” Donovan told me, heading into the house. He walked over to our massive corner couch and carefully sat me down. Then he got down on bended knee and started unfastening my shoes.
“He’s rad,” I agreed. My gaze followed his movements, marveling at how gently he handled me and how fucking hot he looked on his knees in front of me.
Donovan must have seen the appreciation in my eyes because suddenly the air in the room became charged, like a bolt of lightning had flashed through it, leaving electricity in its wake.
Donny’s eyes dropped to my mouth, then suddenly, my back was crushed to the couch, and he was on top of me, his lips finding mine and taking them in a hard kiss.
I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, making all breath whoosh from my lungs.
Suddenly, I struggled to breathe—not in a choke-to-death way, but in a robbed-of-all-senses way.
It was like Donovan had an inbuilt tractor beam with rays that pulled me in whether I wanted it or not, and right then, it was tractor beaming at full force.
Every inch of his body was hard, including the dick pressing against my belly.
The only thing soft about him was his lips that moved expertly against mine.
He was the best kisser I’d ever known; in fact, he was the best everything I’d ever known.
He was a sexy, generous lover, and fun too.
Our night together was filed away in my spank bank, and no doubt it would remain there until the day I met my maker.
My fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently as I sighed into his mouth. Then I made a little noise of protest in the back of my throat as Donovan groaned, released my lips, and pulled back slightly.
“There’s so much I wanna do to you right now,” he rasped. “But the kids won’t be long, and it’s probably better to ease them into this. Letting them catch us making out on the couch isn’t the best way to go.”
The fluttering in my belly moved to my heart, and I smiled wryly. “I guess not.”
Donovan pulled back and stood, adjusting his crotch, which, thanks to our mini necking session, was bulging.
I sighed ruefully at the waste of a perfectly good hard-on, then, sitting up, I lifted my face and cocked my head. “You want a beer?”
“Better not, baby. I’m driving.”
“Coffee?” I asked. “I have a Keurig.”
He smiled his thanks. “Coffee’s good.” He held out a hand to pull me up from the couch, then, keeping hold of my fingers, he led me toward the kitchen.
He looked around the place at the off-white walls and family pictures adorning them.
“Your place is great. You’ve got almost as many pictures as my mam, and I gotta say, Posy, you’ve got good-looking kids. ”
“They’re the apple of my eye, and it’s not just that they look gorgeous, but they’re pretty fucking amazing on the inside too.
I lucked out with them.” We walked through to my huge family kitchen, and I motioned for him to sit up at the breakfast bar while I went to the drawer where I kept the Keurig pods.
“I’m not one of those moms who thinks they’ve got perfect kids; if they fuck up, I hold them accountable, but I have a great relationship with them, and they make me proud every day. ”
“You’re a good mom, Posy,” he murmured. “Watched you with them in the car and loved seeing how close you all are.”
I pulled the tray of pods out and waited for Donovan to choose one. “Thanks. I’ve raised my kids to feel comfortable coming to me about anything. They know there’s nothing they can do to ever make me stop loving them. They’ll fuck up occasionally, but it’s all part of growing up.”
“They’re lucky,” he murmured wistfully. “I wish I’d gotten that.”
My eyes sliced to him.
“I was closer to my mam,” he explained. “Da was all about Callum and later, Tadhg. He thought I was a loser. I think Ma saw what was happening and overcompensated.”
His words settled like a weight in the pit of my stomach, and not just the words themselves, but also the way he said them, like they filled him with pain.
“You’re not a loser,” I said emphatically.
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re not a loser,” I repeated.
His eyes met mine.
I leaned toward him. “You’re not a loser, Donovan O’Shea. Don’t you take that shit inside, not ever. You’re a good, decent man, and if your dad were alive, I’d throw him some of the famous Rosie ‘tude and tell him to stop being an asshole.”
Donovan’s blank eyes filled with emotion, and then they softened to the point of languor. “Famous Rosie ‘tude?” he repeated under his breath, grinning.
“It’s a thing,” I told him, my tone huffy. “Ask Atlas.”
He just looked at me for a minute, his stare never leaving my face, then he ordered softly, “Come here, Rosie.”
I stayed rooted to where I was.
“Rosie,” he repeated. “Come here.” He must have engaged his tractor beam again because I walked around the counter and maneuvered to stand between his legs. When I was positioned, Donovan’s gaze flickered over my face, and he whispered one solitary word.
“Fierce.”
My heart swelled. “Huh?”
“You.” He raised his hand and sifted his fingers from the root of my hair down to the tips. “Fierce for your kids like a warrior. No holding back and no fucks given. Just fierce as fuck and fight to the death.”
A sudden hit of emotion burned the back of my throat, and I whispered, “Sometimes I don’t feel fierce.”
He sifted through my hair again, his eyes following the motion while he spoke words that slid through me like silk.
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t stop it from being true.
You remind me of a lioness, basking in the sunshine, just relaxing and enjoying her day.
Then someone makes the decision to go after your cubs, and you rip their fucking heads off.
The way you defend them is one of the most magnificent things I’ve ever witnessed. ”
All the air left my lungs.
“Fierce,” he rasped again. His hand left my hair and cupped my jaw, and his thumb swept across my bottom lip as his mesmerizing blue eyes locked with mine, holding my gaze.
I had to grab hold of Donovan’s thigh to steady myself, but he felt so warm and, well... sexy, that I was forced to let go and grip onto the countertop in case my knees gave way.
He grinned.