by Jane Henry
He rocks me back and forth and kisses my forehead.
“This,” I whisper. “This is nice. I could get used to this.”
“I don’t think you flipped out just because you were angry, though,” he says softly.
“No? Then why don’t you tell me what you think?” I’m not being snarky, but truthful.
“I think a part of you wanted to lose control. And a part of you wanted me to take it back.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, my cheeks flushing, as I realize that he’s totally right.
He’s quietly massaging my sore and tender backside, I squirm when the pain morphs into heat and the heat travels beyond my arse to my core. I wriggle a little at the touch of his palm on my naked skin, and just that quickly, I start to crave more of him.
“I wish I could keep you safe,” he whispers. “Away from all of this. From anyone who could hurt you.”
I burrow my head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m really so sorry for all of this. I was such a brat.”
He gives me a roguish grin. “You like it.”
“What?” I ask, embarrassed.
“When I punish that naughty arse of yours.”
“I do not,” I protest. “Nope! It hurts, and you’re mean.”
“Really?” he asks. “Then why do your eyes dilate, and your face gets all flushed?”
“From screaming at you!” I say, logically.
“So if I parted those sweet thighs of yours, I wouldn’t find you wet?” He tickles my side and I actually giggle.
Giggle.
Like a little girl.
“Stop. Don’t you dare make light of the fact that you just whipped me with your belt.”
“I did,” he says soberly. “And I’d do it again if you deserved it.”
Zing.
What the hell is happening here?
He traces his fingers down the side of my face, his eyes intent on mine. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m lifting my face toward his, like a flower seeking sunlight. I want him to kiss me. I need him to kiss me.
My eyes flutter closed when his lips brush mine. My pulse races and my arms encircle his neck. We’re entwined together, holding onto one another. Our spat forgotten, the punishing lashes of his belt stoking a deep, abiding desire for him low in my belly.
My head bends back when he deepens our kiss. My lips part as his do, and my moans are swallowed by his. He maneuvers me onto the bed and cages me in, his large body framing mine as he kisses me. He presses his body against mine, the hard ridge of his cock at my pussy.
He pulls his mouth off mine and whispers in my ear. “I want you, Fiona. I want you so badly I can hardly think of anything else. The effort it takes to hold myself back makes me ache.”
“Lachlan —"
His mouth’s at my neck, kissing down the length to my collarbone. “Hush,” he whispers. “And listen.”
I hold my breath. I close my eyes. I don’t just listen.
I feel.
His chest pressed up against mine, his heartbeat racing. His fingers laced through mine above my head, my arm stretched upward, welcoming him in. His kiss on my cheek, my chin, my neck, and lower still to the fullest swell of my breast.
He braces himself above me so he can look at me. “I need to claim you, Fiona Hurston.”
I think my heart actually comes to a stuttering halt.
This… this is not what I expected tonight.
Claim you.
I know what that means. I may not know the intricate details of Clan life, but I’m good friends with the women, and we know what claiming means. Still, I want to hear him say it. I need to hear him explain exactly what he means.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “What you mean when you say you want to claim me.”
He runs his fingers through my hair and brushes it off my face. “Like burnt gold,” he says in admiration. He holds a lock between his thumb and forefinger and inhales deeply, then releases a sigh. But he doesn’t answer the question, not at first. His brow furrows. I want to kiss him there and ease that worry.
“Tell me, Lachlan. Please. I want to hear you say it.”
“Claiming you makes you mine, to anyone outside the walls of this room. It grants you Clan protection, for anyone who touches a hair on the head of a claimed woman pays dearly. It will grant you protection and guidance, financial and physical security all the days of your life. It means… it means I’ll wed you. Put my ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. It means that my sun rises with your needs and sets with your dreams.” He kisses my cheek. “It means you finally become my everything, as I’ve wanted.”
I blink, so overcome with emotion, I can’t speak at first. He looks at me hopefully, an almost boyish expression written across his features.
“I suppose it’s a bit more than dating, isn’t it?” I ask, unable to prevent myself from teasing him.
He narrows his gaze and growls at me, and I melt beneath him.
“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes, Lachlan. So much yes!”
His face breaks out in a roguish grin that makes lightning zing through me once more.
“I love you, Fiona.”
My heart comes to a stuttering halt. I cup his face with my palm. “I love you, Lachlan. I want you to claim me.” My voice breaks. “Please.”
I’ve wondered what it was like to be claimed by a man of the Clan. When he does, when he makes me mine, he’ll have to go back to the others and stake his claim. Nolan might kill him, and Sheena most certainly will, but Keenan’s the Chief and he sent Lachlan here for me. We’ll deal with Nolan and Sheena.
We’ll deal with everything.
Will it hurt? Will it change things?
Can I trust him?
I open my mouth to speak, and my lip begins to tremble, but he presses his thumb to steady it. “Shhh, sweet girl,” he whispers. "Is breá liom tú. An mbeidh muinín agat asam?"
I love you. Will you trust me?
I nod my head and whisper back, “Go hiomlán.”
Fully.
His gaze grows heated as he holds my eyes with his. “You’ve saved yourself, lass?”
“Aye,” I tell him. “Of course I did.”
Wordlessly, we undress, the clothes falling to the floor in a heap, but our movements are slow and deliberate. It feels as if we’ve waited this long, there’s no need to rush what’s to happen. He takes my dress off, and I help him with his t-shirt. When we’re bared, I run my hands along his sculpted shoulders and powerful arms. I shiver when he lowers his body to mine.
Skin to skin.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” I whisper.
“I can feel yours.”
He buries his face in the crook of my neck and breathes me in.
“No protection, Lachlan,” I whisper. His eyes meet mine and his brow furrows. I shake my head. “I won’t get pregnant. Been on birth control for ages to keep things regular.”
“Bloody hell,” he whispers, his voice husky and affected.
“What?”
“I didn’t let myself think of my first time with you. But now that we’re here…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head. “I want this moment to last.”
I give him a sly grin. “I have every confidence that you can last.”
He’s grinning back when he kisses me again.
“I want to be bloody sure you’re ready for me,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
But I know from what my friends have told me there’s no way to fully prevent it hurting. Still, he tries, and I love him for that. He kisses my mouth and my neck, my shoulders and breasts, until I’m panting for him. It feels like I’ve been waiting for him for years, for this intimacy and connection with the man I know I love.
It isn’t until I’m trembling with need that he finally takes the head of his cock and gently glides between my legs. His own body shakes with the effort of holding himself back.
“Don’t worry about hurting me,” I tell him.<
br />
“I’ll always worry about that,” he whispers back.
“Maybe I want to be hurt by you.” The kind of hurt that brings ecstasy. I can feel the sting of his punishment and cut of his teeth on my skin, and I shiver with awareness. His latent power and utter restraint’s an aphrodisiac.
He sighs and whispers in my ear, “Rinneadh tú a bheith liom.”
You were made to be mine.
I open my legs, welcoming him in, even as I brace for the flare of pain that will come when he enters me.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. I let his breath wash over me, and release the tension in my body. “Good girl. That’s my very good girl.”
I warm at the praise as he gently nudges my entrance. Excitement trills though me when he gently glides in. He stretches me slowly, and it hurts, but at the same time, as our bodies connect and pulse and vibrate with need and awareness, it feels as if he’s putting me together, like we’re meant for this moment.
I expected to feel a tearing, I expected to bleed. I was prepared for anything but this, this moment of utter connection and purpose defined. Lachlan and I were designed for this, like the very first human beings on earth. Imperfect, fallible, but created for one another.
I wrap my arms around him as he gently rocks his hips.
“Y’alright?” he whispers in my ear.
“Never been better,” I murmur back. I want to memorize every detail of this moment. Skin to skin, heart to heart, our breathing mingled. So full I ache, while I yearn for more. His low moans of ecstasy when my pussy hugs his cock. His mouth meets mine as he lifts and strokes, each thrust a fraction firmer than the one before.
I’m moaning in his mouth when my body keens with pleasure. He holds me to him like I’m precious, thrusting in me with purpose. My pulse races with every thrust of his hips, my fingers digging into his muscular arms and powerful back. My mouth parts as I near release and his movements quicken.
“I love you,” he says on a groan as spasms of pleasure grip me.
“I love you,” I whisper as I climax. Ecstasy fills me at the sound of his own moans of pleasure. We chase our pleasure together. As one. He rocks his hips and I grip him tightly. My breathing hitches, and he groans with ecstasy. I close my eyes, lost to sensation, cradled in his warmth, riding waves of pleasure.
Finally, when we’re spent, his movements slow until he stills. He holds me and whispers in my ear, “Mine.”
Chapter 14
Lachlan
I never let myself imagine what this would be like. In her.
Fierce possession seizes me now that I’ve claimed her. After we made love for the first time, I held her to my chest. Cleaned us both up, thankful her first time wasn’t bloody and painful like it could have been. Somehow, it’s like the universe knew she’s had her fill of hurt and her first time with me should be blissful. She fell asleep with her head and hand on my chest. I held her for a long time, basking in the glow of owning her fully. Of knowing she was safe.
The next morning, I want to take her again and she damn near begs me to, but I don’t want to hurt her. Now that we have the Boston guard to defend us, I feel mildly better about her safety. I try to remind myself she’s here for school, not just to be with me. We use the private entrance and exit to our hotel, and she uses my being in town to explain to her friend why she isn’t at the dorm.
She won’t ever go to the dorm, and we both know that now. She’s far safer under my protection. If she wants a normal college experience, I can give her that, and I’ll do my very best, but the reality is, she outgrew dorm life ages ago.
It’s far from normal, what we’re doing. I can’t take her out to dinner or even walk the streets freely, but she does see Aisling while Tiernan and I investigate about the blokes they saw their first night here. We can’t find who they are, probably hired by whoever’s out to hurt us.
Keenan keeps close tabs on us, and Nolan calls several times a day. I tell Nolan as much as he needs to know, and keep silent on things he doesn’t. Yes, she’s safe. Our visit to Boston’s inner city nightclub? That he doesn’t need to know, and Sheena needs to know even less.
Nothing of consequence happens over the weekend, but I wonder if we’re being lulled into a place of complacency now that we’ve gotten the Boston mob on our side. I do my job and Fiona prepares for class, but it seems like we’re in a sort of holding pattern.
“What’s on your mind, Lach?” Fiona says Monday morning. She comes to me holding a steaming cup of tea. I’m sitting by the balcony window, looking out over the harbor, contemplating another way to draw out those who may threaten us.
I often hold myself back from her. I don’t tell her my fears or concerns. I want to shield her from all of it, but I know now that I can’t always do that. She’s no child.
“The sea isn’t the same,” I finally tell her. “The water’s darker here. Tamer. And hell, it’s even a different color, isn’t it?”
She slides onto my lap and wraps her arm around my neck, and I breathe easier than I did before. “Aye,” she says with a sigh. “I’m homesick, too.”
Until she said that, I didn’t realize I was.
“Have you heard from Keenan?” she asks. “Is Maeve better?”
I frown, disappointed in myself. I completely forgot she was ill. “I haven’t. I’ll call him today.”
“I’ve got a nagging suspicion, Lachlan,” she says as she looks out at the harbor. “If she isn’t better, I wonder, is someone trying to hurt her?”
“What? Why would you think such a thing.”
She frowns. “Think about it. Have any of you men been attacked?”
I do think about it. “The guards, aye, but none of the men of the Clan.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Something’s not right.”
Of course it isn’t. It’s why I keep her within sight at all times, and why I’ve damn near signed my soul to the devil to align ourselves with the Boston mob.
“It isn’t,” I tell her. “But for today, let’s talk about your plans.”
She nods. “Right, then. I’ve got Early Childhood Development at nine, followed by Calculus at eleven, and Modern World History at one.”
“Sounds thrilling,” I mutter.
She playfully smacks my shoulder, then sighs. “It seems such a waste to have a man like you who’s so powerful within the Clan, sitting around outside my classes like a babysitter.”
I frown. “Bodyguard,” I amend. “Sounds much better.”
She shrugs and smiles. “Suppose. But still, I feel like your time’s being waste.”
I nudge her shoulder with my nose and inhale her sweet scent. “Protecting you is never a waste of time.”
Soon, our tea’s forgotten and I carry her to bed. I roll her on her back and kiss her until she arches for more. At her pleading, I take her again. I glide into her as gently as I can, my troubles forgotten in the heat of making love to her.
We walk hand in hand to campus an hour later, no trace of a threat to either of us in sight. She meets Aisling at the coffee shop, and I take my position outside her classroom.
Nothing seems out of place, but my conscience isn’t easy. Someone or something’s lurking.
Fiona comes out of her first class and comes straight to me. She’s either oblivious of the stares of others or doesn’t care what they think when she walks up to me, puts her arms around my neck, and kisses me. “I missed you,” she whispers in my ear.
I hold her to me and kiss her back. “Missed you, too, sweet girl. Did you behave yourself in class?”
She gives me a coy wink. “May have gotten a bit cheeky. Why?”
“It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, of course,” I tell her, as we walk hand in hand toward the next building. “But it’s my pleasure to make sure you behave yourself.”
I love the way she flushes pink.
“Tell me about your class.” I love to hear her talk. I love when she waxes eloquent on the books that she’s read or
the discussion she got into. I love the way she’s passionate and driven, and that a girl like her cares for a guy like me.
“Professor’s a bit of a dick,” she says with a frown. My lips twitch.
“Is he? Do I need to pay him a visit?”
“Oh, hell no,” she says seriously. “Lachlan, you can’t rough up my professors.”
I bloody well can if I have to, but I grant her this one concession with a noncommittal shrug.
“Just all demanding. Called me out for not knowing the answer on a chapter we hadn’t been assigned yet, said anyone who took this seriously would’ve read ahead.”
“You’re right. He’s a dick. Offer still stands.”
She smiles shyly, but the next second she’s nearly knocked right out of my hands by a huge, burly guy in shorts and a tank top. Fiona stumbles, and a frisbee clatters to the pavement in front of her.
“Watch where you’re bloody going!” I kneel next to her to see if she’s okay. Her hand’s at her head and she’s wincing, but she looks otherwise unharmed. The boy that knocked her over apologizes profusely, his eyes on me widened in surprise and fear as if he’s worried I’ll kill him. I bloody well might.
“Oh hell, I’m so sorry!” he says. “I didn’t even see you there. God, I’m sorry!”
“It’s alright,” Fiona says, rubbing her head while giving me a warning look. She knows I’m ready to beat the crap out of this bloke. She puts a placating hand on my arm. “I’m fine. But God, yeah, watch where you’re going, will you?”
“I’m so sorry. Can I take you to the nurse?” he asks. The boy looks barely old enough to be out of high school, but I still want to hurt him for hurting my girl. Age is no excuse. I was inducted into the Clan by his age.
“I’ll take care of her.” I’m in his space, and he finally gets the point. He nods, turns, and runs.
“Jesus, Lachlan,” she says in a harsh whisper, her eyes flashing at me. “Put your fucking gun away.”
Christ, I didn’t even realize I’d reached for my gun. I haven’t taken it all the way out, but my fingers are on the grip.
“I don’t think they saw it,” Fiona says, still whispering, while she looks around to see that no one noticed.
