Chapter 20
AOIFE
Isteal down the stairs in search of my morning coffee. Dawn has barely broken. The sky is a stunning shade of pink. I’m not normally a morning person. Never have been, but with the wedding fast approaching, sleep refuses to return.
The evenings with Dominic have become the highlight of my day. I spend hours watching the clock in the kitchen, alternating between scrolling through incriminating articles on the internet about the man I’m engaged to, and scrolling recipes looking for the next dish to impress him.
How fucked up is that?
But when his dark eyes light as he devours whatever I’ve made that day, it stirs things deep inside my stomach. Things that are getting increasingly harder to fight.
I creep into the kitchen in search of caffeine and startle at the sight of Dominic standing at the coffee machine—naked, bar a pair of ass-sculpting black boxer briefs.
My mouth waters as I scan the powerful muscles of his broad shoulders. The way his huge physique tapers in at his waistline. The way the black cotton stretches over the smooth globes of his ass cheeks. Dark hair dusts his thick thighs.
Oh. My. God.
Saliva floods my tongue.
‘I didn’t expect to see you for another couple of hours,’ he remarks, without turning around.
I didn’t expect to see him at all—not like this anyway. He’s usually in his gym, or tucked away in his office by the time I come downstairs.
I glance down at the tiny shorts and tank set clinging to my curves.
I didn’t even think to put a bra on, and my treacherous nipples are protruding like twin bullets as I drink in every decadent detail, from the hard ridges of his abs, to the tattoo splayed over his prominent pecs.
My delinquent eyes drop to his crotch. I know nothing about male anatomy, but his looks enormous.
He’s fucking beautiful.
Beautiful and deadly.
I swallow thickly. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I blurt. ‘I feel edgy.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help with that?’ His lips tip upwards as his pupils home in on my breasts through his thick glasses. ‘Say the word, Aoife.’ My name rolls from his tongue in a deep voice that sets arousal flooding between my legs.
Fuck.
Not only am I not wearing a bra, but I’m not wearing any panties, and I’m in serious danger of embarrassing myself by ruining my shorts.
‘Want me to take that edge off?
My cheeks flame—as usual. He prowls closer. I should move, but I don’t. I’m physically unable. He stops, mere inches from me, and his scent steals into my lungs.
‘No, I’m okay, thanks.’ I lie.
I’m not okay.
I crave his touch more than my next breath.
Now that I can no longer hold him personally accountable for my brother’s death, or the drug problem on the streets, I’m running out of reasons to keep fighting this attraction between us.
‘Sure?’ His focus falls to my nipples. ‘You cold?’
‘No.’ I blurt.
‘Something else then.’ His eyes glint like molten lava.
The air is thick with sexual tension. Fraught with the possibility of pure, primal pleasure. Heat scalds my skin as the memory of his mouth on mine, and his fingers fucking my pussy burst back into my brain.
Oh, who am I kidding?
They never left it.
There’s only so much I can take, and I’m holding on by a single thread.
‘Do you need something, sweetheart?’ His voice is soft and low and teasing all at the same time. He raises a hand, slowly. It feels like it lingers in the air between us. His eyes silently seek permission.
Again, I wish he’d just touch me.
I wish he’d just slip his hand inside my shorts again and put me out of my fucking misery.
I wish he’d take the decision out of my hands, because then I could blame him afterwards when I hate myself for coming so fucking hard for a man who is capable of murder.
‘Coffee,’ I mumble unconvincingly.
‘Your wish is my command.’ His hand drops to his side. ‘All of them,’ he drawls languidly, then fires me a wink before heading back to the coffee machine.
What I actually need is a cold shower. Or five minutes alone with my right hand. Maybe then I could think straight.
‘What are your plans for the day?’ He reaches for a mug, places it under the machine, and pushes a button until it whirs to life. I will my eyes away from his magnificent ass, but not before he catches me ogling, again.
‘Same as every day,’ I shrug.
‘Do you want to get out of here for a while?’ He motions around the house.
Maybe a few hours out in the real world might give me some perspective. ‘If it’s safe to.’
‘I told you, sweetheart, you’re always safe with me.’
So much for getting some perspective.
He checks the chunky silver watch on his wrist. ‘Why don’t you shower and meet me back down here in about an hour? I’ve a few calls to make, then I’m all yours.’ He hands the coffee to me and I’m super careful that our fingers don’t touch.
‘Where shall we go?’ I fold my arms across my chest, but the friction only increases my arousal.
‘Where would you like to go?’ He leans back against the kitchen counter casually, but there’s nothing casual about the chemistry coursing between us. ‘I’ll take you anywhere you want.’ His lips tip up. He’s toying with me again.
‘Can we go to Magheramore?’
‘The beach?’ He cocks his head to the right.
‘Yes. It has a quiet stretch of untouched sand that few people know about.’ I quirk an eyebrow. ‘Or are you too big and bad for the beach?’
‘I told you, your wish is my command.’ He stares at me for a long beat. ‘Pack that bikini. I’ll throw a picnic together.’
Murderer or not… a picnic on the beach sounds suspiciously romantic.
I’m beginning to get the impression my fiancé is a romantic psycho.
And what’s worse?
It only serves to make me want him more.