Tiernan A Dark Irish Mafia Romance - Jane Henry Page 0,26

that’s exactly what’s possessed her.

I walk in the room and lean my hip against the doorway. Watching. She’s as peaceful as an angel when she sleeps. It’s hard to believe the beautiful woman who lies slumbering on my bed’s the same girl my sister grew up with.

I shake my head.

She was pretty when I knew her.

She’s fucking gorgeous now. I turn away and head to the shower.

I strip off my clothes and welcome the scalding water. I remember what it was like being in here with her, when she offered herself to me the way she did. I hate that she feels she can use her body as a weapon. My hands clench into fists. She shouldn’t tempt me. I was fucking half a breath away from taking advantage of her.

I groan and stroke my cock at the memory of her, trembling and naked while the water caressed her body. I stroke harder and faster until I come, but it doesn’t bring me the relief I crave. I feel empty and vapid.

Tonight’s changed everything.

I tug on a pair of boxers and crawl in bed next to her. Thanks to Sebastian’s medication, she’s dead asleep and doesn’t even stir. Wish I had some of that myself. I toss and turn, until I finally roll over and drag my arm around her. It’s to keep her safe, I tell myself. I eye the metal cuffs at her wrists and frown. Can’t be comfortable. How will she get away if she’s tucked against me?

I get the key and unlock the cuffs. Her wrists fall down onto the bed. I rub out the red marks around her slender wrists, and even though she can’t see me, I can’t help but bring my lips to the marks and kiss them. She sighs in her sleep, and her head drops to my shoulder, her hair still damp from the shower.

I inhale the scent of lavender.

It isn’t purple, she’d said, her brow furrowed in confusion. I smile at the memory, lift the blanket, and tuck it around her. I roll her over, tuck her against me, and spoon her from behind. I close my eyes, my arm draped over her. She won’t go anywhere tonight.

I wake early the next morning to her writhing and thrashing.

“Easy, Aisling.” She’s still tucked under my arm, but she’s trying to get out.

“Let me go!” She’s trying to lift my arm off her with difficulty. I tighten my grip.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Watch me!” She rolls over and shoves me so hard she almost budges me. I push up on my elbow, grab her wrists, and capture both of them in my right fist while I reach for the cuffs with the left.

“No!” she screams. “Not again. Leave me alone!”

“Only if you behave yourself.”

“I’ll behave!” she whines, and it’s almost pathetic how sad she looks. “Please. No more cuffs.”

I hold the cuffs and eye her warily. Her face is flushed red and dotted in perspiration. Her eyes are dilated, and her whole body trembles. I drape the blanket over her.

“Get some more sleep,” I order, my own voice husky from sleep. I’m goddamn exhausted. But I know before I say it that it’s no use. She couldn’t sleep now if she wanted to. The momentary reprieve has lifted, and she’s back to battling the withdrawal symptoms.

So I do what I have to. I help her in the shower, and I feed her breakfast. She doesn’t take kindly to being without what she wants so badly, but the food and showers and rest, and the small bits of respite Sebastian gives her, helps.

A part of me thought that I would hate this, that I’d resent this punishment Keenan gave me. But I almost like it.

Ever since I was a child, I looked after someone. Between my mom’s alcoholism and our poverty, there were many responsibilities I carried. I had to feed my younger siblings, keep them out of my mom’s way, make sure she didn’t lash out and hurt them. I had to fill their bellies and keep them safe, and I did it gratefully. Grateful I could have a hand in making sure they were safe.

A part of me likes knowing that soon she’ll be out of this personal hell.

I want the woman who emerges from this cocoon.

But she doesn’t make it easy.

“Eat your sandwich, Aisling, I tell her at lunchtime, pointing to the pressed panini and bowl of soup on her tray.

She’s dressed in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. Her