by Fiona Keane
“This won’t take long.” A softness lingered in the air around his words before Julian pulled me along with him toward his extra bedroom. My bedroom.
I felt his breath, the heavy exhaustion leaving his lungs while the door opened beneath his commanding touch. I followed him inside, my arms automatically protecting my heart as they pulled from Julian’s hands and crossed along my body. It was exactly as I left it, a time capsule of Aideen inside Julian’s world. The old Aideen. It was the same, but for the pillows against the headboard. And the phone charger on the dresser. And the pile of laundry on top of the mattress.
“Have you…”
His hand pulled along the back of his neck, rubbing muscles as though it would erase his embarrassment. “Yeah.”
“You can’t sleep in the same room that you killed someone,” I scoffed, shaking my head at him. “Imagine that.”
“No,” his hands fell to his sides, “I couldn’t sleep in the same room where I last kissed you, or where I thought I last kissed you.”
I sat against the edge of the mattress, studying Julian’s expression while he casually admitted the depth of his emotions. Shrugging, he leaned forward to collect a pair of sweatpants from the pile of laundry behind me.
“Oh, because I thought you might actually have had a problem with killing someone,” I mumbled, “you’ll have to forgive me, babby. This whole mob, murderer, secrets, political corruption stuff is brand spankin’ new to me.” I shouldn’t have looked up at him. My eyes should have remained adhered to my knees and not caught by the movement of his hands while unfastening his tie. Fortunately, for what pride I had left, Julian’s eyes were on the ceiling as his nimble fingers dismantled the glorious trinity knot. His mouth separated into a grin that refused to leave his chiseled face, knowing I was watching him.
“Care to help me?” he said through a simper, his index finger tugging along one loop of the tie.
“You’ve been spending too much time with your little brother.” Rolling my eyes, I looked away in a huff and climbed onto the mattress, nestling against the headboard. My headboard. I could sleep here for a while. I guess. I was planning on moving tonight anyway, so this is probably a good transition. Right? Right. Oh no. Lord, Buddha, and everything south of Australia.
“Care to take off your pants elsewhere?” I painfully stared at the ceiling, prepared to cry in response to the agony it took to hold my gaze at the crisp white paint above me.
“Aideen.” His head shook while he shrugged out of his trousers and wiggled into the pair of sweatpants. “They’re just legs. Need I remind you that you’ve seen them before? And, if I weren’t such a gentleman, I’d remind you that I’ve seen yours as well.” I returned my eyes to him, watching the deity of Ulster grinning at me.
“You really have no boundaries,” I mumbled, kicking my legs over the side of the bed. “You’re also beginning to act a lot like Liam, and it’s unsettling. I hate to say it, but I miss Julian.”
His hands pressed into his hips, revealing the small bandages that still clung to the side of his abdomen, triggering my memories back to the night of our theatre date and the explosion. So much has changed in only a week. My gaze was on my shoes, still protecting my feet from his pristine floors, as his palms cupped my face. I couldn’t resist the gentle guidance of his hands lifting my stare from my shoes to his eyes.
“I miss you too, grá. I think we should talk about that. No omissions. No Liam interruptions.”
“What does that mean? Your endearments. I was just getting used to babby,” I taunted. “Aideen will suffice, you know. Most people just call me that. And you can tell Liam I’m not a damn avian.” Julian’s smile widened, a task I once believed impossible, but his lips parted with great humor and ease before his face lowered to gently kiss my forehead.
“I called you love. I’ll always call you babby. Liam is an imbecile.” His hands released as he nestled next to me on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t want to have a plan for this, for us, but I need you to understand how important you are to me.” I glanced at his hands, watching his fingers wrap around his knees, squeezing through the thin sweatpants to hold himself steady. He’s nervous.
“Is your kind allowed to feel how you’re feeling right now, Molloy?” I whispered, my left hand sliding under his right, ceasing the methodic squeeze of his knee. “It’s actually more terrifying than you threatening to kill me without actually saying so. Stop freaking out on me.”
“I’m not freaking out on you.” His response was quiet while his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’m just trying to figure out how I can fix this, how I can repair your heart and still function. No, my kind isn’t supposed to have feelings, but my kind never really met their match as I have.”
“Your match,” I questioned, taking my hand out from his hold and standing from the mattress. I was getting too comfortable on that bed with him. His palms slapped against his thighs, barely making a sound through the layers of muscle beneath his pants. He needs to put on a shirt. A girl needs to breathe.
“Yes.” Julian nodded, extending his bare arms behind him, resting his weight against bent wrists, and ultimately killing the last piece of my resistance. It’s futile. Truly. Look at him.
“You’re pathetically manipulative, Julian,” I scoffed, turning away from him and heading toward the imposing closet. I was two steps away when his arms snaked around my waist and he threw me onto the mattress. My head flopped backward, bouncing only once before his forehead gently pressed it into the covers beneath us.
“You’re pathetically stubborn, Aideen.” Julian’s words were a mumble as they poured into my mouth, stirring passionately with his tongue against mine.
His knees lightly drove between mine, separating the trembling thighs stretched out from my burning hips. My legs were bent at the edge of the mattress; my bottom still adhered to the covers while skilled hands glided along my thighs, tortuously climbing along my sides where his fingers bound my wrists. An exciting ache rippled against my skin as his hold secured, each finger tediously informing my heightened skin of its presence. The pounding within my chest called to him, the warmth of his skin pressing down against my body with just enough deadly force to comfort me beneath his weight. It feels amazing.
My body was no longer my own, only responding to the smell of his cologne, the delicate touch of his skin while Julian began raising my arms above my head, and the burning darkness between long eyelashes.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered while losing myself in the depth of his eyes, realizing my heart rang true. I’m not. He is terrifying, lethal, horrifically deadly and intimidating, but I’m not afraid of him. It isn’t him; it isn’t Julian that I fear.
The pulse spreading from my core, swelling through my body like a tidal wave of euphoria at his touch alone called to my memories, reminding me that I was only afraid of losing the feeling in my dreams, the feeling of Julian. I was securely caged by his towering frame leaning over me, while his imposing stare left its mark. I’d totally be fine if he kept this I’m-too-sad-to-shave thing for a little while.
Julian’s lips twitched, curling upward, a grin tugging at more than my heart, while his face again lowered to mine. The body encasing my soul, the one no longer responding to my mind, tilted my head to the left as if demanding from Julian a response it knew he was desperate to provide. My eyelids fluttered shut, hoping to contain the memory as his lips grazed my exposed skin, nibbling along a tortuous path while caressing and biting my skin. Keep the stubble. I shivered, a warm and trembling mess beneath him.
“I’m only afraid,” his teeth tugged along my earlobe, exploding molecules of tension within my belly, “of losing you, darling. Hold me, babby. Please?” Without waiting for my reply, Julian released my wrists and lifted my hands to his neck, further pressing his weight against my demanding body. I’m holding him. Holding him. Keeping him. He is mine.
I memorized every muscle in his neck, my fingers rolling over the tightness
that begged for release. My fingers slowly strolled along his shoulders, curling over his trapezius muscles. They were rigid, tightened like boulders that left me wondering just how hard the rest of his muscles were. Oh, Jesus, Aideen. I couldn’t help it. Julian, shirtless, muscles, cologne, too-sad-to-shave stubble, touching, my neck, on fire, bodies, hotness. With my eyes closed, my fingertips traveled in small circles along his skin, knowing precisely what they were touching. His gruff, panting breath tickled into my ear.
“Mo ghra amhain.” He knew what I was tracing; it was his body after all. It was his body and his dedication to me, to us. My hands drifted toward me, curving over his shoulders to press into his chest.
Description was futile, as our lexicon lacked all vocabulary to begin considering the gift of deity beneath my palms. I melted with his kisses, the delicate pain inflicted between bites and licks that pooled my soul at his mercy. Finally. Yet, as I pushed against his chest, my mind slowly regaining composure, I thought more about Julian’s words. He burned his memory of me into his own skin, informing the select few who would ever see him half naked that I was his only love. Me. Aideen Leary, the orphan, the girl with a small business, the girl who was already in too deep without even knowing she agreed to participate in the tournament. I couldn’t say those words to him. I still knew nothing of the future after just gaining pieces of my past, a past I still needed to fully accept. Way to ruin a moment, wet blanket. It wasn’t ruined; nothing could take away the potent pleasure his lips alone inflicted upon me.
Julian’s skin burned beneath my touch, his ribs expanding beyond allowance as his breath panted. My hands grazed along his face, pulling his head from mine and lifting it so I could stare into his eyes. Stare. Keep doing it. Let them hypnotize you. Whoops, too late.
“You’re right,” a softness consumed his face while he lifted from me, taking my wrists into one of his large hands, “it’s too soon. You have questions. We just talked to each other for the first time in a week this afternoon. I’m sorry, babby. God.”
“Stop,” I urged, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Please, Julian. Look at me.” His glance burned against my skin, searing me with the same flame that destroyed my resolve.
“I hated you a week ago,” I sighed, my wrists wiggling free of his hold and dropping next to his bent legs that straddled my hips, “but I think…I might have loved you months ago.” Might have. Do. Still do. Somewhere.
An agonizing throb within my heart, buried in the confines of forgotten chambers long since sealed, knew it was a lie. The pain reminded me, waking my consciousness, that my feelings for Julian were real. It wasn’t a farce. The pull, the tug of a rope that bound our hearts together even without my awareness, was formed when he found me on my fifth day in the hospital. It couldn’t be cut, frayed, or broken. I knew this.
“I’m not going to pressure you.” His eyes shimmered in the dim light while brightly burning into me. “I also didn’t bring you in here to seduce you.”
“Liar.”
His grin was my reward, a sultry, debilitating reminder of his power over my soul.
“Thief.” He winked, climbing from me and reaching for my hands once his feet met the floor. “I wanted you alone to tell you something. I didn’t want Liam to interrupt or be involved. It’s just something between you and me.”
“Go on.” My arms crossed while I stood, holding my melting body together beneath his bare skin. “I’m still your prisoner.”
His eyes rolled, a beautiful reaction to my sarcasm. Beautiful. He was laughing at me, amused by our past, humored by the comfort with which we could now respond. Somewhat. This bastard still owes me a lot of information. Julian’s eyes were focused on my hair while he slowly removed pins to let it cascade along my shoulder. I was about to fall asleep; the tickling of his hands combing through sent me to dreamland.
“I don’t expect you to respond, and you don’t need to either, but I need to know that you’ve heard from me how infatuated with you I am. Aideen, I love you. You’re killing me, you’re awakening me, you’re keeping me alive. You are my only love and you only ever will be. I need you to know that whatever we discover, whatever plans are formed, I will protect you. I will die so you can live. I just need you to know that. I know it seems intense and a lot, especially since this week was awful…”
“Now you’re scaring me.” I stepped closer, falling into the warmth of his body. “Can you just go back to riddles and threatening me?”
“No.” His chest vibrated with a chuckle while his arms tightened around mine. “Unless you want me to.” My eyes sealed, allowing other senses to consume the moment within his protection, the security of his arms.
“No.” I sighed, a heavy release of the past drifting from my mouth as my heart accepted our fate.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Julian’s hands tickled my back in slow, rhythmic circles, and I hadn’t realized my fingers were doing the same along his skin. Those fingers, which would have previously trembled with fear while contacting his flawless skin, were absentmindedly tracing the tallies that decorated his collarbone. My head tilted back, allowing my squinting eyes an opportunity to examine the soft skin beneath my hand, admiring the tallies as my index finger stroked over every line. One, two, three…Elliott…nine…
“Who else?” My shaking breath fanned his chest, receiving his reassuringly tightened hold as he deeply inhaled above my head. It was a cloud of his nerves hanging above me that triggered my eyes to wander toward his.
“Let’s talk about it outside of this room. I don’t want our bed tainted with that.” Excuse me? Our bed?
“Whoa.” I moved back. “I know that…I know we’ve been talking tonight, but…you didn’t expect I would sleep with you. Are you that sadistic?”
“Sadistic? No. Expecting you’d sleep in the same room with me after everything we talked about? Sort of. More like hoping. Expecting you’d sleep with me? No. I have a conscience and a heart, Aideen. They’re floating in here somewhere with my tattered soul. Christ, babby,” he scoffed, pulling me more tightly against him, “first you think I only want to kill you, and now you think I only want to bed you.”
I laughed; it was inexorable. “To bed me?”
Julian’s right hand secured my head, trembling with laughter, against his chest. Asphyxiation at its finest. I was right, though; he does want to kill me. He was just waiting for the best way.
“You’re so from another world.” My giggle muffled my words. “Let me go, Master Molloy. For I must exchange dialogue with thou youngest of siblings, Your Highness.”
Julian’s voice finally fell into a resounding laughter that shook the walls, tumbling the frozen barrier that hung between and around us, securing us in a darkened world of unknown. His hands released from my body, quick to pull along his face mid-laugh. The sound was just as beautiful as his face. Maybe it was the way his teeth sparkled or how the lines around his eyes gave way to the heart buried beneath that gorgeous frame. While my laughter hiccupped out its dying hum, I took two steps toward the bedroom door. The knob was cool beneath my touch, having lost its burn as the daunting barricade melted around us.
“Go on.” He was behind me, one of those deadly palms planting itself around the curve of my rear with a playful tap. “Before I call on my knights to kill you, princess.” Turning around, my face plastered with an exaggerated scowl, I pointed my right index finger before his pretty face.
“I knew you wanted to kill me.” I glared at him. His eyebrows lifted as his mouth spread, quick to clamp his blinding teeth around my finger.
“Well,” Liam sang from the hall, “I take it the bossy little bird caught her worm?”
I pulled my finger from Julian’s teeth, sending a legitimate glare to his younger brother. “You’re a pervert.”
“Deviant,” Julian interjected, placing his hands on my shoulders as we wandered further into the hall from the doorway of our room. “Did you eat the entirety of my kitchen, Liam, or have you left at
least a glass of wine for Aideen?” Because Aideen needs to drink around her now-extremely-friendly-half-naked-friend? Boyfriend? Murderer? Mob…heir…senator-wanna-be. Honestly, what the hell is he? The obnoxious aura surrounding Liam’s expression quickly faded, perhaps comprehending neither of us wanted to partake in his foolish exchange.
“I only ate leftovers.” He shrugged. “There’s still plenty of wine for the bird to splash around in. Plenty of wine for her worm.”
“Shut up.” Julian smacked the back of Liam’s head as we walked toward the kitchen, the sound echoing in the hall. Those palms are dangerous.
My feet remained hesitant against the dark hardwood of Julian’s home, but the familiarity contained within his walls was confliction, a haunting comfort that kept my nerves on edge. I didn’t know why I expected his entire home to have been flipped, gutted, and remodeled. It was only seven days since Liam shoved me out to stay at the hotel, six days since speaking with Julian. My world imploded. My life changed. I supposed that meant everyone else’s had to have changed as well, considering the magnitude of my imposed revelations. Then again, everyone within Julian’s walls already knew. Their lives would continue to remain as they had, for they already held the memories I lost. My discovery was only a step on their path toward the future.
“Hello,” Liam waved a glass before my face, “where’d you go, bird? Julian, she’s…oh, why, hello there, Aideen.”
I blinked myself back to reality, observing Julian placing a cork back into its bottle at the counter while Liam stood in front of me. I snatched the glass from him, promptly swallowing as much of the chilled Riesling as my throat allowed while sitting in my seat. The seat. Still terribly and deliriously half-clothed, Julian moved to the table with the bottle of wine in his hand, a small sound passing through my ears as the bottle contacted the surface.
