Page 66 of Dublin Beast

I toss the one in my hand onto the table with a dramatic flick of my wrist. “I’ve got two more in the bedroom.”

A flash of heat ripples across his expression, but he reins it in like he’s trying to be good. I do a slow turn, runway-style, and glance over my shoulder with a wink. “How do I look? I’m going for sassy gangster girl.”

His smile slips, replaced by something harder. He slides the laptop to the side and leans forward onto the table. “Don’t take who and what I am lightly, Harper.”

I still. Not fully, but enough.

Enough to feel the shift in him.

“It hasn’t come up,” he says, “but given yer need to know, I’m sure ye looked into me by now.”

I turn to face him, lifting my chin. “Of course I did.”

“And?” His voice is quiet now, dangerous.

“And what? I know what I’ve read in reports—and I know what I’ve seen this past week. You’re dangerous, but I’m not afraid of danger. You kill bad guys, but you killed to save me. It would be hypocritical for me to judge you when I couldn’t be more grateful.”

“Yer not one of those women who seeks out the bad boy for a wild ride, are ye, trouble? I wouldn’t respond well to that.”

I swallow and shake my head, wondering if this whole seduction idea was a mistake. “I’ve been straight with you about everything. I believe in justice more than laws. I get that your family legacy comes with a lot of baggage, but that doesn’t make you evil.”

He stands, slow and measured, his gaze burning into mine. “Don’t romanticize me, trouble. I’m not one of the good guys, not some fucking modern-day Robin Hood. I don’t steal from the rich and give to the poor.”

I laugh softly. “Could you imagine trying to fit your body into tights? No. You’re definitely a jeans or leathers man, through and through.”

Something flashes behind his eyes as he stands, but he doesn’t break. “I beat people to get answers. I snap necks when it’s cleaner than a bullet. I torture men to find missing girls. That’s who I am.”

I step in close, right up against him, the leather between us creaking. “I understand who you are. You know what I am?”

He stares down at me. “What?”

“Wet,” I whisper, dragging a finger down the center of his chest. “And wanton.”

His jaw tics, restraint hanging by a thread.

I reach down, press my hand against the front of his jeans. “Now, are you going to bend me over this table… or should I take matters into my own hands?”

His growl vibrates against my neck. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye, trouble.”

He grips my hips, spins me fast, and presses a firm hand in the center of my back. The wood of the table is cool against my upper body and a startling contrast to the heat radiating off his body behind me.

“Wanton, ye say. Let me test how wet ye really are.” His free hand slides over my ass, his fingers finding the wet heat between my thighs. A growl rumbles from his throat as he uses his foot to widen my feet. “Well, ye weren’t leadin’ me on. Yer practically drippin’ for me.”

I press my cheek against the table, my breath coming in shallow bursts.This.This is Bryan letting his darker side show. And it’s freaking hot.

He’s not being gentle with me, not this time. If he thinks this will scare me off, he’ll be sorry to learn that it’s doing the opposite. He’s giving me everything I want—or hopefully he will be soon.

The metallic jingle of his belt buckle being unlatched sends a shiver down my spine. The sound of his zipper being lowered brings an almost Pavlovian response from my core.

Knowing that he’s freeing his cock…

That he’s going to be inside me any minute…

My desire goes wild. Desperate.

“Open yer wee box of rubbers and pass me one so I can give ye what yer drippin’ for.”

Yes, sir.I reach for the box. I try to pull the tab open, but it doesn’t give. I don’t know if there’s a clear plastic sticker on it or something, but I haven’t got the attention to spare and nothing is going to stop us now.

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