Page 33 of Legacy Of Ashes
Even at fifteen, she's beautiful enough to stop my heart. Now, at twenty-six, she's magnificent enough to bring me to my knees.
I've wanted her every day since. Wanted to strip her naked, pin her to my bed, make her come on my tongue until she forgets every man but me.
My phone buzzes. Text from Saoirse:Rest. That's an order.
Even miles away, she's taking care of me. The woman I've spent twenty years protecting now thinks she needs to protect me.
Maybe Niamh's right. Maybe it's time to stop pretending this is duty.
Maybe it's time to show Saoirse Kavanagh exactly what I want to do to her.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
I watchConall through the two-way mirror, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist while the doctor examines his wounds. Every flex of muscle beneath scarred skin sends heat pooling between my thighs. Three years of wanting this man, and a bullet wound shouldn't make him more attractive. Yet here I am, squeezing my legs together like I'm in heat.
"The stitches look good," Dr. Morrison says, rewrapping the bandage around Conall's ribs. "But you need rest. Real rest, not whatever shit you call that thing you do."
Conall's laugh rumbles through the speaker. "Tell that to whoever put a bullet in me."
I press closer to the glass, watching his hands flex as he buttons his shirt. Those same hands that could break a man's neck, that I've fantasized about breaking me in entirely different ways.
Christ, I'm losing my mind.
The conference room buzzes with activity when I enter. Murphy spreads surveillance photos across the mahogany table while three of our best men wait for orders. This is my show now. My decisions. My family to protect.
"The hit was professional," Murphy says without preamble. "Three shooters, clean exit, no witnesses."
"Then we make witnesses." The words taste like power on my tongue. "What about our police contacts?"
"O'Brien says the weapon matches three unsolved murders. Someone's been cleaning house in Dublin." Murphy slides a photo toward me. "All mid-level criminals. All shot execution-style."
The door opens behind me. Conall enters, and my entire body responds to his presence like I'm some desperate teenager. The way he fills a room, commands attention without saying a word—it's intoxicating.
"You should be resting," I say, not turning around. I don't trust my face right now.
"Hard to rest when my boss is making decisions without me."
Boss. The word goes straight to my pussy. When did that happen? When did Conall Devlin start taking orders from me?
"I can handle an investigation."
"I know you can." His voice drops, intimate despite the audience. "Doesn't mean you should handle it alone."
Heat creeps up my neck. Three men watch our exchange, and I wonder if they can smell the want radiating off me.
"Murphy, I want surveillance on every rival family in Dublin. Use whatever pressure necessary to get O'Brien talking. And double security on my brothers."
"What about you?" Murphy asks.
"I'll be fine."
Conall steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "She'll have protection."
"From who?" I challenge.
His gray eyes meet mine, and the promise there makes my nipples tighten against my bra. "From me."
