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please their wife. Beck knew that watching Cian fuck their lovely
bride would get him hot and bothered again, but he would survive.
Meg would be tired. She would sleep peacefully between them.
Instead, he would spend his evening dodging questions about
when he would attempt to take back his throne. Beck turned to the
penthouse doors and sighed. Politics. He hated politics, even when
discussing them with family. At least Meg was safe from them. She
was safe and protected on the little farm. Beck took a deep breath and
rejoined his family.
* * * *
Meg came awake to the sound of raucous music. It was cheery
and a little bawdy. She couldn’t understand the lyrics, but she knew
bawdy music when she heard it. Her mouth felt dry, and she
wondered if she’d gone on a bender the night before. She’d had the
strangest dream.
“Head hurt, lover?”
Meg forced her eyes open, and, sure enough, her strange dream
was staring her in the face. He was sitting back in an armchair, one
ankle propped on his knee. He looked like she expected a pasha
would look reclining in his harem. He looked exactly like Beck, but
this man was different. Beck Finn radiated authority and
responsibility. This man just radiated sex.
“Cian?” Could that man sitting there looking at her like he was
going to eat her up really be Cian? There was no cloudiness in his
gray eyes now. They were filled with a sharp intelligence.
“In the flesh, my lover,” he said with a crazy, sexy smile. His
voice was deep, but there was a hint of humor in it. He was dressed in
neatly pressed white pants, dark boots, and a tunic he hadn’t bothered
to tie. It left