Page 69 of Dublin Beast

I scowl. “I don’t hurt women.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hurt. I’m not a girlie girl. I loved that you lost control. If you remember, I was right there with you.”

“Maybe, but?—”

“—And if I wanted you to stop or to let up, do you think I’d shy away? If you were truly hurting me, I could throw you off and assert myself at any time.”

“Aye, well, that’s true. You’ve done that on more than one occasion.”

She reaches behind my head, linking her hands. The position pushes her breasts against my chest as the scent of sex and sweat muddles my mind.

And just like that, my cock thinks it’s round two time.

Harper brushes her lips against mine. “Don’t tarnish what we just shared. I loved every second of it. And since you wore a condom and there’s sticky warmth running down the inside of both my thighs, you can’t argue with me. You lit me up.”

Stepping back, she goes over to the table and gathers the foil packages strewn wildly across the table. “But if it makes you feel better, you may now fuck me in the bedroom on a mattress.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “If it makes me feel better? You’re willing to put yourself out to soothe my worries? That’s very kind of you.”

She shrugs. “I’m Canadian. We’re a very kind and giving bunch.”

With her hands filled with shiny foil packages, she steps into the bedroom, giving me an extra waggle of her wee bum for good measure.

How am I supposed to keep her at a distance when everything about her makes me want to take her home and chain her to my bed for the rest of her life?

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Bryan

The cold creeps in—through the boots, up the legs, and into the bones. Night air in the English countryside cuts like it’s personal.

Or maybe I’m just salty and missing the warmth of being wrapped in the duvet and balls deep inside Harper.

Aye, it’s likely that.

I lean against the frame of the Range Rover, my gaze fixed on the dim silhouette of the farmhouse the drone is sending us as a visual.

The place is dark now, but once Kieran’s little toy is in place, he’ll flick on the thermal view, and we’ll see who’s home. Hopefully nothing has changed.

Kieran mutters to himself while he maneuvers the drone controls, his breath fogging in the air between us. “Almost got it…” he grits. “The little bastard is caught on a cross breeze.”

I don’t say anything. Just stay still and wait. A fox screams somewhere off in the hedgerow, eerie and sharp, and I turn to see if I can spot anything.

I can’t. The moon is lost behind cloud cover tonight, so it’s as dark as dark can get out here.

“Finally,” Kieran whispers, smug.

The feed stabilizes and he switches to the infrared overlay. The farmhouse lights up with a handful of heat signatures inside and outside the house.

My focus is solidly on the upstairs suite and the lack of bodies up there. Fucking hell. Where did she go? I count the bodies and there are more downstairs than usual, but that doesn’t make me feel better.

Did I fuck up this afternoon? Did I miss the person upstairs getting moved out while I was having sex?

Kieran sets the controls for the drone into the back luggage hatch and grabs one of the two long, reinforced plastic cases. “Want to see what I brought for show-and-tell tonight?”

He flips the latches on the case and opens things up to expose one of our two new RPG-26s laying inside the customized padding.

“This baby is sleek, compact, and mean as hell,” Kieran says, pulling the launcher free. “She packs just enough punch to ruin a mercenary’s day.”

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