“It’s no matter, Ava.” Again, he stalks off only to stall at the sound of my voice.
“You asked if someone I loved di . . .” A mass develops in the center of my throat—sharp like a rock, thick as a boulder. I can’t mentionherdeath. Not yet. “Kier, every chance you get, you remind me or beat it into me that we’reboundforever. I’ve been where you are,” I tremble out, the words echoing in my ears. “How do we heal?”
“I don’t know. You’ve not sharedshiteabout your past.” Glaring straight through me, Kieran storms from the stable. For a brief time, shock encroaches from all angles. All this time, Kieran’s been this formidable force. He’s . . . been . . . there.
Oye? What was your aim, Ava? You’d be a fool to let him in.
27
Kieran
The black-capped chickadee’s warning whistle had called me to attention while riding with the lassies. I doubled back. One of my men on foot flagged me down. They’d caught an unmarked vehicle creeping up the service road. All the signs warned anyone away. One of my snipers, who’d placed a suppressor on an AR-15, shot him. I’d told my entire security team to get silencers for their weapons the day after Ava arrived. I’d allowed them the freedom to make a couple of executive decisions.
But so much for handlingshitequickly and efficiently. After the car came to a standstill, my men gutted it from bumper to bumper. The dead bampot hadn’t a single form of identification on his person. There was nothing to tie him to the Irish mafia, no trace of any affiliation. He’d not a single tattoo. I remember my first tattoo. Uncle Ewan punched me square in the face. While I didn’t flinch, he complained about tattoos being identifiable markers. So, either the guy traveling into my territorywasan illiterate numpty, or my guys should’ve tortured the truth out of him first.
Tybalt, who replaced Marty, is now researching the vehicle registration.
So, when Kiera spoke of Camdyn, I’d not taken the lassie seriously enough for her tastes. Now, I’m a ticking time bomb with Ava stuttering about losing someone close to her. Except, whereas I’ve been an open book, she cuts herself off.
“I don’t know. You’ve not sharedshiteabout your past,” I bark, then stalk away from her too.
“Kier,” she calls out to me. That tone, that name I’ve never heard uttered from her pretty pillow lips. Nothing ever stopped me from having her before, and the two of us know that. Except, Ava’s too stubborn to ever utter how our physical connection crash-lands her in nirvana. I’m the one who always folds. Who falls on his knees and presses a reverent kiss to her wee clit. I’m the one who begs her body to bend, the bough to break, unleashing her furious orgasms.
Stopping beneath the purple wisteria, I remove a small scrap of black silk from the back of my slacks. Ava’s eyes become warm, eager, mahogany marbles. It almost breaks myfeckingheart that she doesn’t run to me in this very instant.
“Little bird, if you follow me,” I speak in a steely voice, eyes locked onto hers. I’ll not be going to the lassie; she’ll be needing to follow. “You should know, I need control—”
“Is there ever a time when you don’t requi . . .” Her words draw to a whisper as she realizes my somber mood is like nothing she’s ever seen.
“I’ll require control of myself. Control ofyou,”I order. Not a moment later, she follows.
* * *
Having never visited my quarters, Ava looks around, curious gaze scanning the dark, wenge-wood bedroom. I stroll to the wet bar, uncork a bottle of scotch, and pour two generous glasses full of the liquid.
I hand over the glass. “Drink.” It’s not a request; it’s an order.
Without waiting for her response, I disappear into my walk-in closet to retrieve a leather teddy for Ava to wear. I’d never bought a woman lingerie, but it’ll fit. Has too. There’s not enough leather to floss one’s teeth with. Fisting the wee bit of a garment, I saunter from the closet. Ava discards her empty glass on the side table next to the love seat and abruptly stands.
“Good.”Nowfeckingrelax.I gesture toward the empty glass. “The more attentive you’re to my needs, the better this will go. Get dressed.”
Ava takes the outfit, stalls for half a beat, then follows the cock of my chin toward the bathroom. Restless, I pull out of my vest and settle my shoulder against the wooden pillar of the bed. I hear the shower running. That minx must control some variable of this evening.
“Feckit. I’ll wait.” I drum my fingers on the sides of my black riding trousers. After twenty minutes, the bathroom door opens. A plume of smoke escapes then I let out a low groan at the vision before me. The black leather runs taut against Ava’s skin, outlining her curves. My palms itch to tug, push, pull, and bend her a hundred ways.
Drinking her in, I command, “Give me a safe word, Ava.”
Hands dropped low and clasped in front of her sex, she nervously repeats, “A safe wor—”
“Something you’d not say out of the blue, lassie.”
“I know what it is . . . I—”
“Youfollowed,” I grit out.
Sweeping a tentative palm over her forearm, she gives a resolute nod. “Too late for regrets.Happy—that’s the word.”
“Then that’s the word you’ll say if the pain or pleasure becomes too unbearable.” I gesture toward the bed. “Climb up.”