Page 59 of Dublin Beast

Asleep, he’s different. Softer. The anger and hostility he shields himself in has melted from his features. That perpetual crease between his brows is gone, the sharp cut of hostility around his emerald eyes relaxed into something younger. Gentler.

He looks almost innocent—though I’m not naïve enough to believe a man like him could ever be that.

But this is a version of him the world doesn’t get to see—at least, not anymore. I think about the screensaver picture of him with his girlfriend. That’s the closest version of Bryan I’ve seen to the man sleeping before me.

I shift on the mattress without meaning to, the duvet rustling beneath me. His lashes flicker. A moment later, those piercing green eyes blink open and land right on me staring at him.

Busted.

A lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Are ye watchin’ me sleep, trouble?”

Heat rises to my cheeks, but I don’t look away. “You’re not so scary when you’re unconscious. You’re really rather pretty, actually.”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, low and gravelly. “Pretty. That’s a new one.”

We fall into a beat of silence. It’s not heavy or awkward—it’s just still. Like there’s a wall around us, keeping the outside world out.

I shift again, this time inching forward to close the distance between us. I adjust my pillow to bump against his and lie nose-to-nose. “How did tonight go?”

His eyes darken a little, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “We managed to get a couple of cameras up in the trees facing the farmhouse. Nothing major, but they’ll allow us to record the comings and goings and check things from the hotel. We’ll go back tomorrow night, see if anything new turns up.”

“Any trouble?”

He stretches out his legs and lets his head fall back onto the pillow. “Nah, just the opposite. It was too quiet, if anything.”

“Poor baby. You didn’t get to pommel anyone?”

“Not a single person.” He watches me for a moment before his voice drops even lower. “It’s late. You should try to go back to sleep.”

I lift a brow. “I’ve slept more in the past thirty-six hours than in the weeks before. I’m many things, but tired isn’t one of them.”

He rubs a hand down his face. “Can’t say the same. I haven’t slept much the past week. Not with everything riding on me finding Siobhan.”

I lift the duvet a few inches before it’s trapped by his weight. “Why don’t you come under the covers and get some sleep now?”

His eyes flick to mine, something unreadable moving behind them. “And do ye think me gaining access to yer body will make me more likely to sleep or less?”

I chuckle. “I’m sure we can control ourselves. We’re friends, after all.”

“Friends who fuck,” he says. “Although, technically, we’ve only been friends who fool around.”

“Seeing as how the fooling around was mostly about you pleasuring me, I have no complaints.”

“Me either. Except maybe one.” His gaze locks with mine, and for once, there’s no armor. No walls. Just Bryan. Raw and real. “That when this is over, ye’ll go home to yer polar bears and maple syrup, and I’ll go back to Dublin.”

“To your shamrocks and leprechauns?”

He chuckles. “Aye, something like that.”

My heart stumbles over itself. I need to pull myself together or this is going to hurt like hell when it ends.

“Well, then I suppose we’ll have to make it memorable while it lasts.”

Before he has a chance to respond, I run my hand over the swollen line of his cock, filling out the front of those sweatpants. “Close your eyes, big guy. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

Rolling out from under the duvet, I rise onto my knees, push his shirt up, and kiss his navel. I trail kisses across the sculpted ridges of his abs, nipping and licking the toned muscles of his tummy.

Bryan Quinn doesn’t have a regular old six pack. No, no, the Dublin Beast has a freaking eight pack.

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