Page 51 of Bloody Knuckles

"Fuck that." The vehemence surprises me. "I don't work for dad. I work for you. Always have."

Unexpected emotion tightens my throat. "This won't be the comfortable arrangement you're used to. I've walked away from everything. I can’t keep you safe, or hidden now. Things will change."

"Not everything," he counters. "Where are you? I'll bring what supplies I can before Seamus locks down the accounts."

I provide the lake house address, disconnecting with newfound appreciation for loyalty freely given rather than coerced.

Aoife is silent until we turn onto the private road leading to the lake house. "Your brothers might not be your only allies. Giovanni Russo seemed impressed at Kilmainham. The younger associates too."

"Allies require something worth allying with," I remind her. "I've just surrendered everything of value."

Her laugh—unexpected, genuine—fills the car. "You surrendered a name and some property. The most valuable asset in your arsenal sits right here."

"My car?"

She swats my arm. "Your brain, idiot. The connections you've built. The respect you've earned separate from the Donovan name. It’s a nice car, though."

We park outside the lake house, darkness shrouding the modern structure. Inside, Aoife immediately activates security systems while I check entry points—a synchronized dance we've perfected in our short time together.

"Tomorrow changes everything," I note, sensing her movement through the space with growing familiarity. "Your father will want you home."

"Probably." She approaches, stopping just beyond my reach. "Is that what you want?"

The question carries weights beyond its simplicity. What do I want? Twenty-four hours ago, the answer seemed clear—victory over the Gallaghers, consolidation of power, continuation of the Donovan legacy.

Now, having abandoned that legacy, the answer shifts.

"I want you safe," I begin, honest in ways I've rarely allowed myself. "I want Liam to pay for his betrayal—both of you and your father. I want..."

The words falter. Some truths remain difficult to articulate, even now.

"What do you want, Cormac?" She steps closer, challenge in every line of her body. "Say it."

"I want you." Simple truth, complex implications. "Not as leverage. Not as a treaty condition. Just you."

Her smile—slow, dangerous—sends heat curling through me. "Then take me."

The invitation ignites something primal. I close the distance between us, lifting her against me in one fluid movement. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her toward the bedroom, her mouth hot and demanding against mine.

I deposit her on the mattress, following her down until my weight pins her to the sheets. Her hands make quick work of my shirt buttons, pushing fabric aside to expose skin she maps with greedy fingers.

"All that power," she murmurs, nails scraping lightly down my chest. "All that control. Surrendered because of morals."

"Disappointed?" I capture her wrists, pinning them above her head.

"Intrigued." She arches beneath me, the friction against my hardening cock nearly unbearable even through layers of clothing. "The monster with a conscience. The captor who sets himself free."

I release her wrists to strip her sweater over her head, exposing black lace beneath. "Not entirely free." My mouth finds the pulse point at her throat.

Her hands fumble with my belt as I unhook her bra, exposing perfect breasts to my hungry mouth. I lavish attention on each nipple, alternating between gentle suction and sharp nips that pull delicious sounds from her throat.

"Too many clothes," she gasps, shoving at my pants. "Need you. Now."

The desperate edge in her voice shatters remaining restraint. I strip us both with efficient movements, settling between her spread thighs. My fingers find her center, slick and ready for me. I circle her entrance teasingly, gathering her wetness before sliding two fingers deep inside her velvet heat.

"Christ," I growl, feeling her inner walls clench around my fingers. "So, fucking wet already."

"Because of you," she pants, hips rising to meet my touch. "What you did tonight—walking away from everything—it was the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed."

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