Chapter 14
Nuala
What the fuck was I thinking?
I just pulled a gun, I had no idea how to use, on a man who could kill me without blinking.
Saying that, the man whose bed I’m currently on, whose t-shirt I’m currently wearing, could do the same. His whole ex-priest background is fairly irrelevant at this point.
“I’m sorry!” I say, trying to sit up, but my head spins, and I have to lie back down again. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Oh, don’t apologize, Nuala. That was the best thing I’ve seen since… well, fuck knows, but it was the best thing. Connor’s face!” He chuckles darkly, and I blink in horror. He finds this amusing?
I stare at him, completely baffled. “Your uncle could’ve killed me!”
Logan sits on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. “If he’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Trust me on that.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It should be. It means he respects you.” His hand finds my ankle, thumb rubbing circles against the bone. “Not many people earn that.”
I close my eyes, trying to process everything. The whiskey burns in my empty stomach, making my head fuzzy. “I don’t want his respect. I want to go home.”
“You can’t.”
“I know.” The words come out defeated. I open my eyes to find Logan watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “What?”
“You’re incredible, you know that?”
I snort. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re a woman who just held Ireland’s most dangerous crime boss at gunpoint to keep hold of something you know is important.” His hand slides up my calf, leaving heat in its wake. “That’s not a mess. That’s survival.”
“It was stupid.”
“It was brave.” He moves closer, his hand now resting on my thigh. “And incredibly sexy.”
Heat floods through me despite everything. “Logan, we have three days before he comes back here and makes this into an us problem.”
He grasps my hand, and I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip. “An us problem,” he murmurs. “I want us to pick up where we were interrupted.”
Everything about this situation is wrong—the timing, the circumstances, the fact that I barely know him.
But my body doesn’t care about logic. It cares about the way his hand feels on my thigh, the way his voice drops when he says my name, the way he looks at me like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“Of me?”
“Of this. Of wanting you when I shouldn’t.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because you’re dangerous. Because people are trying to kill me. Because you were a priest six months ago and I don’t know what that means for you.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Because I’m broke and you live in a penthouse and we’re from completely different worlds.”
“None of that matters.” His hand cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “My past doesn’t define what I want now. Your bank account doesn’t change how I feel when I look at you.”
“And how do you feel?” The question comes out barely above a whisper.
“Like I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet you.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone. “Like I’d burn Dublin to the ground before I let anyone hurt you. Like I want to hear you scream my name so badly it’s making me insane.”
My breath catches. “Logan—”
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away. Tell me you don’t feel this thing between us, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” His forehead touches mine. “But don’t lie to me, Nuala. Don’t lie to yourself.”
I can’t lie. Not when every nerve ending in my body is screaming for his touch. Not when the heat between us is so intense I can barely think straight.
“I want this,” I whisper. “God help me, I want you.”
The last thread of his control snaps. I see it in his eyes the second before his mouth crashes against mine. This kiss is different from the one against the wall—harder, hungrier, desperate. His hands slide under the t-shirt, spanning my ribs, making me arch into him.
I grab his tee and yank it up. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, revealing all that inked skin I’ve been fantasizing about.
My hands trace the tattoos on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath.
His breath hitches when my fingers brush his nipples, and the small reaction gives me confidence.
“You’re wearing too much,” he growls, his hands going to the hem of the tee I’m wearing.
I lift my arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air hits my bare skin, making my nipples peak. His eyes darken as he takes me in, and I fight the urge to cover myself. I’m not ashamed of my body, but the intensity of his stare makes me feel vulnerable in a way I’ve never experienced.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to my breast.
The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp. He circles my nipple slowly, deliberately, while his hand cups my other breast. I arch into him, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. When he bites down gently, I moan.
“Logan, please.”
He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine. “Please, what?”
“I need—” I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t know how to articulate this desperate need.
“Tell me what you need, Nuala.” His hand slides down my stomach, stopping at the waistband of my skirt. “Use your words.”
“You. I need you.”
He smiles, dark and possessive, and lowers the zipper on my skirt, pulling it from me.
I’m completely naked, my skin heated under his gaze.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.
With a swift motion, he presses me up against the wall.
“Right where we left off,” he murmurs, lifting me so I can wrap my legs around him.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place as he grinds against me.
Even through his jeans, I can feel how hard he is, and it sends a thrill straight to my core.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, his voice rough against my ear. His breath is hot on my skin, making me shiver even as the heat builds between us.
“Show me,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
Those blue eyes are nearly black with desire, and I see something possessive and dangerous that should scare me, but only makes me want him more.
He growls low in his throat, and then his mouth is on mine again, devouring me.
His tongue slides against mine as one hand releases my thigh to cup my breast. He pinches my nipple hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth, and I feel him smile against my lips.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs. “I’m going to learn every single spot that makes you moan.”
His mouth moves to my neck, biting down on the pulse point. I dig my nails into the back of his neck, marking him as mine even as he marks me. He shifts his grip, one hand supporting my weight while the other slides between my legs. His fingers find me wet and ready, and he groans.
“Fuck, Nuala. You’re soaking for me.”
I can’t form words. All I can do is whimper as he circles my clit with his thumb while one finger slides inside me. My head falls back against the wall, and I gasp at the intrusion. It’s been so long, and he’s not gentle about it.
“More,” I manage to choke out.
He adds another finger, stretching me, filling me. His thumb keeps up that maddening pressure on my clit, and I feel the tension building low in my belly. I’m close already, embarrassingly close.
“Please, Nuala,” he murmurs against my throat. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”
His words push me over the edge. I cry out, my body clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me. He works me through it, not stopping until I’m shaking and oversensitive.
“Beautiful,” he says, pulling his fingers out. He brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving mine. “You taste like heaven.”
He drops his hand to his jeans and undoes the zipper. He pulls his cock free, and I take over, gripping it firmly as I jerk him off.
“Fuck, Nuala,” he mutters, pressing his hand over the expanse of my throat. I stroke him firmly, learning what makes his breath hitch, what makes his fingers tighten against my throat. His cock is thick and hard in my hand, and I feel powerful watching him lose control.
He pulls my hand away suddenly, pinning both my wrists above my head with one hand. “When I come, it’s going to be inside you.”
My pussy clenches at his words. I nod, unable to form a coherent response.
He reaches down between us with his free hand. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, and I brace myself. It’s been so long, and he’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with before.
“Eyes on me,” he commands.
I meet his eyes as he pushes inside, slow and deliberate. The stretch burns, but it’s a good burn. I gasp as he fills me inch by inch, my body adjusting to accommodate him.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his forehead pressed against mine. “So perfect.”
When he’s buried fully inside me, we both pause. I can feel every inch of him, my body stretched around his cock. He’s trembling with the effort of holding still.
“Move,” I beg. “Please, Logan.”
He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in. The force drives the air from my lungs, and I cry out his name.
“Let me hear you scream my name.”
He sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving me higher up the wall. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle hits something inside me, and stars explode behind my eyes.
“Logan—” I break off on a moan as he adjusts his grip, changing the angle slightly.
“Come apart around my cock.”
His words send heat flooding through me. I’ve never been with anyone who talks like this, who commands me like this.
The tension builds again, faster this time.
“Close,” I gasp. “I’m so close.”
“Look at me when you come,” he demands.
The connection between us feels electric, dangerous, completely consuming. He drives into me harder, and I shatter.
I scream his name as the orgasm rips through me. My pussy clenches around him, and he groans as I milk his cock. He doesn’t stop moving, fucking me through another orgasm. The overstimulation is almost too much, but I can’t stop the second wave from crashing over me.
“That’s it,” he growls against my ear. “Give me everything.”