Chapter Twenty-Six
Abbott
As soon as we pull away, Rian makes a call.
Whoever it is must answer quickly because it’s only a couple seconds later that he says, “I need a crew at,” before proceeding to give the person my address.
“I need the place wiped clean of any evidence I was there or anything else I might have tracked in with me tonight.”
“Wait. What are you doing? Who are you sending to my house?”
He glances in my direction. “People I trust. I shouldn’t have been at your place before cleaning up tonight. The last thing we need is me inadvertently leaving proof of shit that doesn’t need to be tied to you.”
When he puts it that way, he’s right. But still, the idea of someone being in my home, going through my things…
Rian sighs. “They’ll be careful. If there’s anything you want them to get, they can do that too.”
I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s fine.” It’s not as if someone else hasn’t been in my place recently, maybe more than I realize. At least with Rian’s friends, I know it’s for my safety…or Rian’s, I guess.
The person on the phone must speak again because Rian says, “None of your fucking business.” And he ends the call.
Neither of us speaks for the rest of the drive.
Honestly, I’m not even sure what to say.
In a matter of weeks, my life has been completely altered—leading to tonight, where I find out someone may have tried to kill me, and now my Mafia-boss lover is bringing me back to his place, where he’s sworn to protect me.
I lean forward, pressing buttons on the dashboard, trying to turn on his AC.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m hot. I think it’s all just hitting me.”
Rian turns on the air conditioner, then reaches over, lacing his fingers through mine. The silence is different now, more comforting with the feel of Rian’s steady hand in mine. “I don’t understand how being with you makes everything feel better…how I trust you and know that I’m safe with you.”
“Because you know I’m a monster, and you’re not supposed to feel safe with people like me?” he asks.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s true. I know who I am, but while I’m all the things others should run away from, I’m not that for those who are mine. I’m your monster. The one who will always take care of you.”
His. He said it again. That I’m his. I don’t know how we got here, and if we’re only here now because I’m possibly in danger, but here is my favorite place I have ever been. “I like being yours.”
“Good. It might’ve gotten awkward if you didn’t.”
I give a small laugh, then squeeze his hand.
Rian doesn’t let go until we’re pulling into the driveway of a huge, Greek Revival-style house with towering pillars along the front and made up of white brick.
The lawn is perfectly manicured—a family home that looks like it would belong to anyone other than the leader of the most notorious Irish Mafia family still around.
There’s a garage along the side, which Rian pulls into, the door sliding closed behind us.
“Come on, pretty thing. Let’s get you inside.”
I nod, feeling vulnerable in a way I don’t often allow myself to feel, one that I haven’t been given the comfort to feel for most of my life.
Even though he tries, I don’t let him get my bag, instead grabbing it before I follow Rian inside.
The garage door leads into the kitchen, which is filled with more white brick, immaculately clean, almost like no one has been here in days.
We go through the kitchen, then into the living room, Rian flipping on the lights as we go. The space is huge—looks like it could be a spread in a magazine—pristine and perfect, but with soft, personal touches that lure me closer, like a moth to a flame.
I walk toward the wall of photos of different sizes, in a collage of happy memories that seem to have stopped when Moira died.
She was beautiful—long, dark hair with wide, bright blue eyes and a smile that I feel the energy from through the photos. There are some with her and Rian, with her and who must be Cillian, of a red-haired boy that I assume is Rory, a young girl and boy that—“This is your niece and nephew?” I ask.
“Yes. Tiernan and Aislin.” Rian is standing at least five feet behind me, though I think it’s because he can’t let himself get too close to this happiness that he used to have.
Because more than anything, there are photos with the three of them—Rian, Cillian, and Moira—laughing, touching, living, loving.
It’s obvious how much they loved each other.
Still, I can’t help but notice that there’s not one photo of them after she died.
It’s like Cillian and Rian stopped living when she did.
“There is nothing like this in my family home,” I say.
“What?” Rian steps closer.
“This…the life you had, the memories, there is nothing like this in my family home. I’m not saying you don’t have anything to atone for, or that you were the perfect father…but you love your son. You loved your family. That’s why I’m here with you right now.”
He continues moving closer, slow and unsure, like he’s kept these photos up but hasn’t allowed himself to really look at them in so long.
“No one who loves this much can be all bad, Rian. I see that. I see you.”
“Christ, Abbott. I know I don’t deserve you, but damned if I’m not selfish enough not to care.”
“You’re not selfish,” I say, when he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. “She was beautiful,” I admit.
“Yes,” he says softly. “You’re beautiful too, my pretty thing. I didn’t know a man could be beautiful before you. You’re in my head all the time, but not just there…like, I feel you inside. Everywhere, all the time.”
“Me too,” I reply. “Everywhere, all the time.”
Rian takes my hand, leading me toward the stairs. I go easily, knowing the sun will be up soon, but ready to climb into bed with him.
His room is huge—a large bed in the middle with a warm, neutral beige headboard with hints of light gray that match the sheets, with a large fireplace across from it.
He doesn’t have any of the same personal photos in his room that were downstairs—a lamp on each nightstand, which match the gray-toned wood on his bed.
“I’ve never brought someone here before,” Rian admits.
“I know.” He didn’t have to tell me for me to know either. Whatever this connection is between us, it runs deep, a bond we both share.
“I need to shower,” Rian says, voice rough.
“Not without me.” I turn to look at him, watching a smile spread across his face.
There is nothing in the world like making Rian smile. It lights up his face that is often so serious and so sad. Any trace of the sadness is gone right now though, as he nods his head toward the en suite and I follow him in.
Rian’s bathroom is massive, with a standalone shower with two rainfall heads hanging above it.
He turns on the water, and we both strip out of our clothes. I follow Rian in, rubbing my hands up and down the soft fur on his chest. I want to sleep with my face buried into it, my cheek against the dark hairs so I can feel them brush against my skin all…well, day, considering what time it is.
“I won’t come to you right after I do something like this again,” he says as water pours down over his back. “I wouldn’t have tonight but…I couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting you.”
“I can take care of myself. You don’t have to save me.”
“Believe me, I know. But most of the time, I feel like that’s all I have…the way I take care of people.”
Jesus, this man. I don’t even know what to say to that, so instead, I push up onto my toes and kiss him.
Rian moans into my mouth, his cock growing hard against me. Mine is thickening too, throbbing with more intensity as the kiss goes on.
His hands tighten on my hips, blunt nails digging in as he kisses me harder, hungrier, like he needs this in ways neither of us has the words for.
I press my lips to his again, then pull away, grabbing his sponge and soap, before I start washing him.
It doesn’t matter what he did tonight. I’m not sure what that says about me, but it’s how I feel. Maybe if I didn’t trust Rian, if I didn’t know that, despite the bad parts of him, there is a good man who loves with all his heart.
Once the invisible traces of the blood he’d spilled tonight are free from his skin, I turn off the water, and this time, I’m the guide, pulling him out with me and drying us both off.
Rian follows my lead, walking back into his room, then watching as I kneel on the floor beside his bed.
“Jerk off on me. I don’t want to smell like soap. I want to smell like you.”
Rian lets out a deep growl, then a curse, grabbing lube from his drawer before wrapping his strong hand around his thick cock.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, jacking himself. “I’m going to come on you every fucking day, make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
Yes, yes, yes. I want that.
Need it.
“There’s nothing I won’t do to protect you, to keep you. Jesus, how did you do this to me? How did you make me feel again?”
Because I did. I have no doubt in my mind about that. I made Rian feel, and no one can ever take that away from me.
“Because I was meant to be yours,” I say. “No one’s but yours.”
His jaw tightens, hand frantically sliding up and down his cock. “Fuck. Here it comes. Gonna give it to you. Gonna give you all my cum.”
The first spurt hits my cheek. I open my mouth and the second hits its target, before he shoots on my shoulder and chest too.
When his balls are run dry, he traces my lips with his cockhead, and I lick any remaining cum from him. He pulls me to my feet, lowers me to the bed, and lies beside me, sucking me into his hot, wet mouth.
He’s taking me down like a man starving, like he’s been waiting a lifetime to have his mouth on my cock again.
I’m too close to the edge already, arching upward. “Can’t hold back. I’m going to come.”
He pulls off, lying back. “Do it on me too. Make me yours.”
A bolt of unfamiliar possessiveness lights me up from the inside. I push onto my knees, wrap my hand around my shaft, jerking myself off until the hot splatter of my cum hits his stomach and chest.
I rub it into his skin, just as he does mine, then Rian lifts the covers over me, turns out the light, and climbs into bed with me. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise you.”
I smile into the dark room, believing him.