Page 47 of Shameless Royalty

I curl my hands into fists at my sides at the sincerity in his voice. Fuck, I am so close to cracking. “I’m not talking about it. Drop it.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push harder, but then his thumb moves again, tracing along my jawline. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’smine,” I snap. “It’s mine, Connor.Mypast,myscars,mypain. You don’t get to take that too.”

The silence that follows is deafening. His eyes search mine, and I can see the war playing out behind them. The anger, the frustration, the… care. God, it’s almost too much.

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he mutters, his tone caught between frustration and resignation. “You drive me mad, you know that?”

I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can do is lie here, my body betraying me as his thumb slowly drags across my lip again. The heat in his gaze makes my chest feel tight, like I’m standing too close to a fire and I can’t step away.

“You can keep your secrets for now, but just know whoever hurt you, whoever left those marks on you—they’re already fuckin’ dead.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends another shiver down my spine, and I hate how much I feel it. Connor leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmurs something in Gaelic again, the words rolling off his tongue like a promise I can’t understand.

“What does that mean?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his smirk returning. “That’s for me to know and for you to…” he trails off and I honestly wish I could lift my hand to punch him.

And then, before I have a chance to process what’s happening, his lips crash against mine. It’s not soft or gentle—it’s roughand demanding, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip as his hand tightens on my jaw.

I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his other hand bracing against the bed to keep me pinned beneath him.

For half a second, I forget how to breathe.

Connor’s mouth is hard against mine, like he’s trying to pull the truth from me with his teeth, his lips, and his fucking tongue. My chest burns, my body tensing even as heat coils low in my stomach.

I should push him away.

I don’t.

Instead, my hands find his shoulders, fingers digging in like I can steady myself against the storm that is him. He tastes like whiskey, and I fucking hate how much I want more of it.

I let him deepen the kiss for a moment longer before my instincts kick in, and I turn my head, breaking the contact with a sharp inhale. “Fuck you,” I rasp, but the words don’t carry as much heat as they should.

He tugs my jaw back toward him, his grip firm. “You think I don’t know what this is, Babyface?” His voice is softer now, but there’s an edge to it, something that makes my pulse skip. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me when you think I’m not payin’ attention?”

I glare at him, but my body betrays me, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the heat rolling off him in waves, making it impossible to think straight. “You’re delusional.”

Connor smirks. “Am I?”

His free hand moves, fingers tracing lightly over the hem of my shirt again, but this time it’s different. Slower. Not teasing, not mocking—just… testing.

I force myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest. “This doesn’t mean anything,” I say, and even to my own ears, it sounds weak.

Connor leans in again until our noses almost brush. “Liar.”

I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge, his weight a solid, immovable force above me. His fingers skate over the fabric of my shirt, and I can feel his hesitation, his frustration, his fucking desperation to know the truth I won’t give him.

I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.

And yet, he’s right here, his touch burning, his voice cutting through the carefully built walls in my head.

“You’re mine, Malachi.”

The words land like a hammer to my ribs again. Something cracks open in my chest, something ugly and raw, and I fucking hate him for it. “No, I’m not.” My voice isn’t as steady as I want it to be.

Connor’s smirk fades. “Yes, you are,” he says simply. Like it’s a fact. Like it’s something I should just accept.

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