Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,27
staggering.
My cheeks flame as I look down at the spoils of our fun.
“Oh.”
His lip tugs up, and I don’t stop him this time as he pulls my dress off over my head. I feel more exposed than I ever have been, but I don’t stop him from taking me in.
When he’s drunk his fill, he takes the black t-shirt and drags it over my head. It smells like him, and my core tightens.
“I have more dresses,” I say.
“I can’t look at them.” His response isn’t what I expect.
“Put your hand through.”
I push my arm through the sleeve. His face is still black and blue, and once again, I want to know what happened.
Once his t-shirt is on me, he starts to rise and pulls up his jeans. They hug his slim hips. “I’m going to go and get some fresh clothes. Can I trust you not to run?” He asks the question, but I think he knows the answer.
I nod, and he leaves me kneeling in the hall. I’m not ready to stand up. My legs will run; they know no different, only what I’ve been taught.
But Jack’s words about my father and his comments about how they set Shay up, by using my family’s dealings to trap him, makes me not want to rise.
Shame burns deep in my heart.
My dad would never kill children. That’s one thing I knew, and I needed to prove. I’m rising as Shay comes down the stairs, fully clothed. His t-shirt brushes the top of my knees.
“Let’s go.” He drags a jacket over his wide shoulders before lighting up a cigarette.
My instincts want to fight and run.
But something that seeks freedom has me following Shay out into the garage.
CHAPTER TEN
SHAY
Each time I take a peek at Emma, my gut twists. Taking her up north is a risk. One I shouldn’t be taking, but staying here will only result in my death. Having her will give me something to bargain with when they follow us, and they will.
She’s removed her shoes and socks. Her wild, red, curly hair covers her face as she lies back in the seat. Why the fuck does she have to look so beautiful, and why had I touched her? I shouldn’t have done it knowing what I was leading her into, but at the moment, I wanted to claim her, taste her and make her mine. I needed the reminder that she wasn’t fucking Jack O’Reagan’s. Her response still shocks me. I look at her again, and my cock grows hard thinking about her licking it. The way she had looked up at me and told me she wouldn’t bite had turned me on so fucking much.
Who the fuck would have thought.
“You can’t use your name,” I speak before turning on the wipers as the rain starts to fall fast and hard. The road in front of us gleams from the recent downpour.
“What about Emily?” She’s looking at me, and I’ve never seen her green eyes so alive.
“You’re taking this very well, Emily.”
Her smile widens, and I quickly focus back on the road before I take another kiss from her ruby red lips.
“I’ve come to realize that I don’t have much of a choice,” is her answer, and I’m not buying it.
“So if I let you go now, you wouldn’t go home?”
There is a lull in the conversation, and I glance at her. She’s focused on her nails. Her lips are tugged down. “I would go home. I miss my horse and my brother.”
She doesn’t mention a ma or a da.
“But I want answers.” She continues. “Answers to why Jack said those things about my dad.”
I pull over as my stomach clenches painfully. Dropping her on the side of the road all of a sudden seems appealing. Taking her up north just doesn’t seem as wise if she even considers asking fucking questions like that.
“Emma.” I put the car into park.
“Emily.” She corrects me.
Her long legs are white and creamy, and I’m imagining what it would be like to bury myself deep in-between them. My cock instantly grows hard, and I let my gaze wander up my t-shirt that looks so fucking good on her.
She’s older-looking since she has shed her air of hostility. I don’t know if she’s a good actress or what she’s up to, but nothing here is adding up.
“You can’t ask those types of questions up north. If you do, you're dead.”
“I wouldn’t dare. But, you can. Jack said you’re King of the North.”