“What the hell are you doing?”
“Looking for bugs.”
Jesus.
“Why the hell are you doing that?”
Aisling blows out a breath. “Because he knows something we don’t.” She mutters something under her breath that sounds like dumbass. I narrow my eyes at her.
She’s put up her walls again.
I know how to break them down.
“Not sure if we’re safe in here,” Malachy says. “Out to the lawn. Let’s take a walk.”
I reach for Aisling’s hand, but she yanks it away from me. My palm tingles to smack her little arse, but I refrain. I let her go her way.
We walk on the pathway amid green grass that leads from the hall to the rooms. Malachy speaks in a low tone.
“Deacon came to me this morning.”
“The boy?” I whisper.
One curt nod of his head. “Seems the headmaster put him up to spying on you.”
Bloody hell. “Did he? What’d he say?”
“The headmaster said he suspected you weren’t using your real name. Asked Deacon to see if he could find out anything suspicious.”
Christ.
“Did he hear anything?”
Malachy blows out a breath. “Aye. Heard you call her by her given name.”
Fuck.
“Anything else?”
“Aye. The boy said he told the headmaster, under threat of expulsion. Seems he played the heaviest card in the book.”
“I’ll tell Keenan,” I say. “Keenan will—”
“Not yet,” Malachy says, holding up a hand. His steel blue eyes swing to mine. “You must be careful, Tiernan. Do you understand? You can’t let that hot head of yours allow for rash moves.”
Always the fucking sensei.
“Bloody well told you,” Aisling says between gritted teeth, her nostrils flaring. Malachy’s brows shoot heavenward.
“Fucking Clifford caught her in the men’s room. Hit on her.”
“Oh, so now you believe me?” She’s seething.
“Hush. You’re too loud. I don’t want to be overheard.” She clamps her mouth shut and fumes.
Malachy looks from me to her, then back to me. “Did he touch her?”
I look at her, the need to beat Doran Clifford’s arse sudden and vicious. I slice my eyes to her.
“Did he?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Aisling’s eyes flash, her nostrils flared. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me,” she says. “The headmaster had the fucking bollox to blame me, said I was hitting on him.”
Malachy rolls his eyes and whispers to me, “You didn’t believe her? Don’t you know what an arse Clifford can be, Tiernan?”
I grit my teeth. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll tell you what’s complicated,” Malachy says. “The headmaster’s spying on you, and she’s supposed to be safe here. Is he in contact with anyone else?”
“Of course he is.”
“Take her home, Tiernan. Do it now.”
I nod. “Aye. I’m on it.”
We leave Malachy’s office and make it back to the room.
“Pack your bag.”
“Fuck you.” Something smacks the back of my head, and I spin to look at her, my temper flaring. Her bag’s hit me smack on the back of the head. Christ.
“How dare you?” she says, picking up her shoe before she whips it at me. It sails through the air and crashes into a lamp. “You still think of me as a prostitute. Admit it!”
“Don’t you fucking throw another thing at me. I’ll redden your damn—”
Her second shoe flies through the air. I duck, and my fighter’s instincts kick in. I pivot, spin, and have her up in my arms before she can run.
“Let me go!” she howls, smacking at my back but I don’t feel it. I carry her to the bed, toss her belly down, and slam my palm against her arse. I yank down her trousers.
She howls. “You fucking—”
I spank her again, not holding back. She arches her back and fights me, but I’m not letting her get away. I spank her again, my bright red handprint blooming on her white skin. Her breath hitches and she damn near chokes, whimpering and out of breath. I spank her again, and again, until her arse is bright red and hot to the touch.
“I hate you,” she sobs. “I fucking hate you.”
“You don’t hate me. You hate that we fought. You hate that I was a douchebag. You hate the past that drives a wedge between us and the faults of my fucking past.” I pause, my hand on her lower back, holding her still. “You hate that you’re afraid.”
My cock is a fucking battering ram, hard as fuck. I pull her trousers down fully, noting the way her arousal glistens on her thighs. She loves being fucking dominated even when I infuriate her. Jesus, we’re made for each other.
I unfasten my trousers and grab my painfully hard dick.
She cranes her head to look at me, protesting even as her eyes are half-lidded and her cheeks flushed. “Don’t you fucking—oh!”
I impale her in one savage thrust.
The walls of her pussy clench around me, hot and slick and welcome. She braces herself on the bed, gripping the duvet.
“Tiernan,” she pants, tears flowing freely down her face. She isn’t trying to get away now but pushing herself back against me, her heated skin against mine.