Page 70 of Her Irish Treasures
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AIDAN
I twirledsome of her damp hair around my finger, and I couldn’t help but think that my worst fear had come true.
The latest treasurekeeper had come into my life and wrecked it all to hell. She stole my ride. She drove me to take a risk, to try and find Doran one last time. To free him against all odds.
But worse, she made me fuckingcare.
She made me fucking love her.
Then she’d disappeared through that fucking fountain, and I’d gone insane.
Something broke inside me, letting out all the rage and fury I’ve been carrying through each lifetime. The hopeless battle raged on, life after life, generation after generation. Our light went out a little more each time, while the darkness only got stronger.
It wasn’t fucking fair. None of it was.
We’d lost Doran for centuries. It wasn’t even worth us coming back to try again to push back the dark. Not without him. This slip of a mortal woman traipsed into my life and demanded I let her into my black, withered heart. She’d taken up residence in my every thought. She was my breath and the beat of my heart.
If I lost her…
Grimacing, I forced myself to let go of her hair before I dragged her against me and demanded she let me inside. At least until this storm passed. Just once. A moment of safety. A moment of peace. Before the battle claimed my soul again.
“Something’s not right,” she whispered.
My worthless heart shriveled up and died all over again.
“Remember what you promised?”
Eyes narrowed, I stared back at her, not sure what the fuck she was talking about. She glanced back over her shoulder at the leprechaun. “Do you remember?”
The bastard gave me a devious, underhanded look that I fully deserved. Fucking hell. If the leprechaun had his way, I’d end up in a meat grinder.
Warwick snapped his fingers, and her hotel-style robe was replaced with my favorite leather jacket. And nothing else.
My jaws clenched, my teeth grinding together as I fought to keep myself under control. When we’d had a taste of her on top of the bar, I’d demanded that she wear my jacket the first time she let me fuck her. She’d agreed.
“Ah.” Her lips quirked and she ran a hand over the opposite sleeve. “There’s nothing like the smell and touch of leather on my skin.”
I jerked my head at Keane. “You heard the lady.”
Her eyes widened, her gaze darting over at the other man as he slid closer. Keane never took his leather gloves off—at least not until he was ready to finish his partner. Once he touched her with his bare hands, she’d climax so hard and long she’d be done for the night.
Fuck me. I couldn’t wait to see her writhing between us. Gasping and crying with release.
Keane cupped her cheek in his leathered palm. “Are you too tired, Riann?”
“No, not at all. At least not now.”
“How would you like us, then?”
She looked back at me, a shy, fragile question in her eyes that damned near made me crack my teeth with shame. That I had ever made her doubt herself, or how much she meant to us. To me.
“You want him, you got him.”
I regretted the harshness in my tone, but I couldn’t seem to keep my edges under wraps when I was with her. She exposed my weaknesses and regrets, making me throb like a rotten tooth or a shattered bone.
“I don’t—”
