Page 105 of Broken Blood Ties

My body acted like a live wire under his touch. Sensual jolts making my nerves ablaze with a sensation I hadn’t felt in years.

Pulling the robe over my sage green pajama cami and short set, I spin, picking up the glass yet again to make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Unable to sleep anyway, I might as well commit to staying hydrated.

The hallway is dark, and I make my way to Aoife’s room to peek in on her tiny sleeping form. Smiling, I shut her door and slink down the steps. A yellowish lamp is on in the living room, and I use the light to help guide me to the kitchen where I flick on the island light.

The refrigerator’s steady hum breaks the silence of the house, and I pull it open and scan the shelves for the glass pitcher of filtered water Allie keeps in there. After refilling my glass, I tap the light back off, making my way back through the house and down the hall.

I pass Kieran’s office. The door is closed, and I shuffle onward a couple of steps beyond the threshold. Before I can second-guess my decision, I stop in my tracks and let my hand hover over the handle.

It’s wrong on so many levels. Invading his privacy like this. Plus, I’m getting ahead of myself; it’s probably locked. Twisting, the door groans open.

So much for it being locked. Jeez. Am I really doing this?

I let the door swing open enough for my body to slip in, and I leave the door cracked in case Kieran has some crazy security that traps anyone who tries to break into his office. With the amount of cameras he has plastered all over the perimeter of the house, I wouldn’t put it past him.

Stumbling into the near pitch black, I reach out to steady myself and my hand wraps around a lamp. Feeling my way up to underneath the shade, I pull the old-fashioned chain and the poor shadowy light highlights parts of the office.

It’s fairly small, and it has no windows since it’s an interior room of the house, but it’s cozy. The smell of worn leather and a musty, lived-in scent makes me wiggle my nose. A couch sits on the wall to the right of where you enter, and a simple wood desk sits in the center of the room with a patchy leather chair behind it. To the left, behind the floor lamp whose chain I pulled, sits a huge gaudy-framed oil painting of Kieran’s yacht. My lips part with silent amusement as I take in this painting so disproportionate to the room and furniture it’s comical.

My skin crackles as I drag a finger across the top of Kieran’s desk, noting the subtle ways in which he’s imprinted it. The photo of Aoife eating the cannoli, the one he sent me, sits proudly on his desk, propped in a black frame. Random paper clips scatter across the stacks of papers, which read with a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo.

My heart churns, picking up its already erratic pace at my peeping, when my bare foot connects with a basket sitting on the floor nestled closely to his desk.

Books.

Children’s books.

I bend down, picking up the basket and setting it on the desk. It’s brimming with vibrant colors and playful illustrations, totally the opposite of the earthy, muted tones of the office. There’s a mix of hardcovers and softcovers, many of which have mermaids on them, and the most worn book beingGoodnight Moon, which I know to be one of Aoife’s favorites.

Smiling, I flip through it.

My father’s office never had a basket of books or toys for us. He strictly avoided anything that would encourage children in his presence. In fact, toys were meant to stay in our rooms. My mother had rules surrounding our personal entertainment items, and we learned real quick if we left our prized possessions around the house—they’d disappear within the day. I’m fairly certain she instructed the maids to toss anything they came across.

The basket of books thumps against the floor as I place them back, bristling with guilt. I made him feel like such a checked-out father. I’d pulled the similar notes I found in him that reminded me of my father and passed judgement without knowing the full story, the full Kieran.

My stomach tightens and I’m sick with the thought.

He’s trying. The realization that I want to help him rolls over me in a fluttering wave.

Eyeing his chair, then the clock, I shrug and pad over to it. I trace the rough, worn patches of leather, raised and bumpy under my touch, before I plop down.

I spin a few times, trying to put myself in Kieran’s shoes as he works at his desk from home. I don’t notice him here all that often, and I wonder what keeps him this late at work.

Humiliation burrows in my belly as I think of all the things hecouldbe doing. I hiss out a puff of air, sucking back in to inhale the old leather and … Kieran. The slight smokiness of whiskey mixed with a faint sweetness of rain makes me want to bathe here in him. Jeez … I’ve lost it.

Still, eyes heavy, I allow the ache to ravage my senses, building until my hand skims up my thigh as I picture his touch. The need to assuage the budding heat grows, while the silk of my robe falls open around my pajamas. Dizziness swarms around me, and I forget where I am.

“What are ye doing?” Kieran’s stern voice has me ripping my hand away and using both to slam my robe closed.

“Kieran.” His name comes out breathless, and when he steps farther into his office, I swallow at his towering form.

His hair is damp and tousled, the longer strands over his forehead curling in that tantalizing way that makes me want to twirl them around my finger. He’s dressed in a simple gray T-shirt and dark wash jeans that screams casual. And while Kieran looks attractive in anything, I think this look is my favorite.

“I, uh …” Well, jeez. How do I explain this?

His gaze flicks around the room like he’s searching for the reason for my intrusion. As he steps forward, the lamp’s light shimmers off a dark wetness above his eye, and as it comes into focus, the red blood dripping over his face has me pushing to stand.

“What happened? Are you all right?” I rush toward him, taking in the defeat in his eyes and the blooming bruise across his other cheek. Was he attacked? Where were his guards? My father would have the heads of his men if they allowed this to happen to him.

---