She tilted her head back in response, rocking into his touch and demanding more. She trusted him with her body. He knew she did. When she was with him like this, at least, she held nothing back.
The thought that he didn’t have all of her made him rougher than he meant to be when he brought them down to the matted floor. “Hands and knees, Bronte. I need to remind myself how you taste before I fuck you.”
She hesitated for less than a heartbeat before obeying, her ass in the air, wiggling back and forth, tempting him. He dragged her pants and underwear down to her knees, hands gravitating to the fleshy curves he’d revealed.
He squeezed and caressed her, mouth watering at the sight. “I would write a poem about this ass if I had the skill. Maybe a song.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You like big butts and you cannot lie?”
The first smack was satisfying. She shouted in surprise and shot him a look over her shoulder, but he was too entranced by the way she tilted her hips in offering, silently asking for more. He did it again.
“It’s a song! I was joking.”
And again.
Smack.
“You think I don’t know it? We did get music in Ireland, love.”
“I thought you said you wanted a taste,” she panted, her eyes narrowing on his smug expression.
“Oh, I do.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Keep spanking my ass and you might not get the chance.”
William leaned over her, his front to her back as he bit her chin and pressed his jean-covered erection against her abused flesh. “Your body doesn’t lie. You like how it feels. You didn’t think you would, but then you’re learning all sorts of new things about yourself on your impulsive trip to Baltimore, aren’t you?”
She pressed her lips together, moaning when he pumped against her again. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned about this body since last night. The good daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne likes a little pain with her pleasure. Not too much. Just enough to get her attention.”
He pinched her clit with barely enough pressure to make her squirm. “She likes to walk the line between nice and naughty. Vanilla and—”
“Nothing about me is vanilla,” she interrupted, making him laugh through his arousal.
“I’m aware. You smell like peaches and cream, taste like sin itself and feel softer than anything a rough-handed prat like me should ever be allowed to touch. But my wife’s body likes having my hands on her.” He slid off her back and lowered his head between her thighs. “And she loves my mouth.”
Spreading her cheeks as he licked her, he let her enjoy the sting and the lingering heat from his palms. He could practically feel the struggle inside her. Her mind telling her she shouldn’t like it, shouldn’t be doing this in public at all. Her body saying it wanted more. That she didn’t care who saw them as long as he didn’t stop. It made her hot to think she was being bad.
He knew his woman.
Her addictive flavor was filling his mouth and he closed his eyes, savoring her loud moans and demanding pleas.
If they were really in public, he’d have to cover her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet, or everyone would know the name of the man who was making her come and exactly how much she was enjoying it.
Fuck, the thought of it made him worry he’d come before he had the chance to get inside her.
He managed to hold out until she came and then he was up on his knees, nearly shredding his zipper in his impatience to get to her. Get inside.
Need to get inside.
She was tight and hot and he had to count backwards from one hundred so he wouldn’t come with that first thrust. By the time he got to ninety-five she was already working herself back onto his shaft like she couldn’t wait. Couldn’t get enough.
With one hand he pushed her shirt and bra up until her breasts were free, palming them tightly as he started to move.
“Every damn time.” He pressed his mouth against her neck, hips rolling as he ground against her, needing to be as deep as he could go. “Bronte, love, you’re so hot I never want to leave. Can you take more? Do you want it—”
“Harder,” she said, before he could ask. “I can take whatever you want to give me.”
His laugh against her silky hair was shaky. “Sure about that, Mrs. Finn?” He lifted off her back and gripped her hips in warning. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
He pulled out until he was barely inside her before powering back in with a guttural groan. She was moving against him, fighting for control until he tightened his hold to let her know who was in charge of this ride. It would end when he was ready, and not a second sooner. He wanted it to last. He needed it to last.
Each time he felt her arousal climb he changed his rhythm. Fast and shallow. Deep and slow. Her sobs of frustration only made him more determined to draw it out. To drive them both insane.
“There’s so much I want to do to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. He slid his fingers through her arousal, cruelly avoiding her clit before bringing them to the crease of her ass and pressing his thumb against the tight ring of muscles that clenched in reaction.
“Wha-what are you doing?”
“You liked it when you were riding my mouth this morning. Breathe out for me. Let me in.”
He slowed his thrusts, throat dry as he pushed inside. “Jesus, that’s it, darlin’. That’s just right, isn’t it?”
“So full,” she moaned raggedly. “I can’t believe you’re doing that. It feels... Don’t stop.”
Pride flared inside him. He was the first to give her this. To show her how good he could make her feel. Knowing that stole the last of his restraint away.
With his thumb still breaching her ass he set a hard, unforgiving pace. “Are you ready to come with me, Bronte?”
“Yes,” she moaned raggedly. “I need to… Please.”
He grit his teeth through her climax, memorizing the feel of her hot sheath bruising his cock, tempting him to give in. To come inside her and never leave.
He pulled out when he was right on the edge, deliberately denying himself, his disappointment adding a sharper edge to his orgasm as he came in hot spurts on her ass.
Bronte hadn’t noticed, collapsing on her folded arms, her body still shaking with the force of her release. William reached for the shirt he’d dropped earlier, wiping her off gently before tugging her underwear and pants back up around her. He lowered himself down beside her and dragged her close, his still-racing heart pounding against her back.
I love you. I love you. I wish that was enough.
She wrapped both her arms around his forearm, cuddling him closer and pressing a kiss to his scarred knuckles. “Can I say wow without sounding like an idiot?”
“Wow,” he mumbled into her hair. “There now, we’re idiots together.”
She breathed out, part laugh, part sigh and held his arm more tightly. “That was kind of intense, leprechaun. Not that I’m complaining. At all.”
He didn’t respond, giving her one last squeeze and slipping out of her hold to sit up and deal with his unzipped jeans.
The longer they lingered, the harder it would be to let her go and do what he now knew had to be done. “Come on. We need to get you back to the others.”
She was adjusting her bra and tank top when she stilled, peering up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Others?”
He stared until she looked away guiltily. “You know. Did Ken call you?”
William got to his feet and held out his hand, waiting until she accepted it and helped her to feet. “He should have done, but no. Why didn’t you tell me this morning? Or as soon as you got here?”
She reached for her shirt and held it in front of her like a shield. “I meant to, William. I swear that was the plan when you came to my room, but I wasn’t thinking straight and then, well, we got distracted.”
“And after?”
She shrugged helplessly. “After that I realized that Tasha was right about let
ting Tanaka help. I thought you’d be okay with it, since he’s the one who got you the job here so you could—”
“Since I’d already accepted one handout you thought I’d take another? That I’d thank him for going behind my back to handle my business without letting me know? I thought we’d dealt with your misconceptions about my age, dearest.”
A spark of fire glowed in her narrowed eyes. “This isn’t about your age.”
“Is that why you lied to me this morning and left my bed to gab with the grownups without telling me what the hell was going on?”
“That’s not what happened,” she fumed. “I know that’s what it looks like, but I was only trying to help—”
“You were trying to handle me, like you handle everything else. So I’m good enough for a fuck but not much else, is that it?”
“Stop being such a stubborn asshole,” she shouted. “I’m sorry I’m just a nurse so I don’t know the proper etiquette for dealing with thugs when they start following me around. And I’m sorry that I ever mentioned our age difference, but it’s perfectly reasonable to wonder if falling for a man who’ll still be in his prime when I’m wearing Depends is a sane decision. It would be strange if I didn’t worry about where this was going. Especially since we got married because—”
“Because you’d had one too many and weren’t in your right mind?” he finished grimly. “There’s not a person on the East Coast who doesn’t know you had to be drunk to marry a man like me, Mrs. Finn. You’ve made sure of that.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say. Why are you twisting everything around?”
“It’s the truth. And what you’ve told me from the start. I was a stubborn fool not to listen then, but I’m listening now. Tell me who came to you and why.”
“Ken called him Kevin and he works for a man named Mah—”
“I know who old sausage fingers works for,” he grated, concern for her making him gruff. “What did he say to you?”
She gripped her hands together tightly. “He told me to find you and tell you he knows what you did, and if you don’t deliver, there will be consequences. That’s it.”
He would kill both men with his bare hands. “Are you sure?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Did Tanaka tell you what I did?”
She looked into his eyes, and the worry and vulnerability there almost made him reach for her. Almost. “He said to ask you.”
“Maybe he deserves to live then,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Are you going to ask, Bronte? Don’t you want to know who you married, drunk or not? What kind of man you let take you right here on the floor, with nothing between us but lust and lies?”
“You’re not a liar. I know what kind of man you are.”
“No, darlin’, you don’t.” He swore, slipping his damp t-shirt over his head and searching for the keys. “You think lying about loving a woman was the worst thing I did to Seamus and Owen when they came to find their roots?”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured toward the door, gently taking her elbow when she didn’t move. He needed to get her back to safety before she slapped his face and decided she could get there on her own. “They were the kind of marks I could spot a mile away. Good, clean-cut All American do-gooders. Blood means something to them. Family means something.”
“Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t mean anything to you. You didn’t make the best decisions, but you came here for the right reasons. Everything you did was for your family. And why do you have a key to this place?”
“That’s not important.” He locked up, shrugging one shoulder before he took her arm again. “And I had plenty of first cousins in and around Ireland. None of them cared about our little tribe. Not in all the years we were struggling. But Seamus wouldn’t turn us away. I knew all I needed to do was get us all stateside and their sense of duty would do the rest.”
He let her hear the cynicism instead of the hope. The cocky confidence instead of his fear that he’d been wrong about them. That his only chance to change directions would crash and burn.
“Getting here was the tangle,” he continued, walking her down the street with determined strides. “Surviving. Having enough funds to send Matthew and Kate to school. I needed cash and I had to improvise.”
“Shit.”
“Now she’s catching on.” As if he’d ever touch that blood money. Still, it was what she needed to hear. “It was a big haul. I snatched it and kept right on going. I didn’t stop until I was on Finn’s doorstep. They didn’t turn me away.”
She’d stopped, resisting his pull. “What about your grandfather?”
William forced a smirk. “He knew the plan, but the lunatic wouldn’t leave. And I knew no one would go near him. He’s got his own reputation, that one. But I still left him.” He left out all the people he’d put in place to watch out for the crazy old man, just to be safe.
“Are you suicidal? Because what you did sounds so suicidally stupid, I’m genuinely wondering how you’ve survived this long.”
He lost his temper and some truth slipped out. “The bastard decided on Kate for his next mistress. I’ve seen what he does to the women he gets tired of, Bronte. I was never going to let that happen. I’d spent my life making him richer and covering his ass to protect them and he was trying to destroy that. Destroy her. Was I supposed to slink off in the shadows without sticking him where it hurts?”
“Yes!” she shouted again, causing people walking by to turn in their direction. “Are you kidding me? Yes, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You had to know he wouldn’t let that go.”
He wanted to tell her that he’d been trying to find a way to send it back, that he was planning on asking the hacker for help, but that would defeat his purpose. She didn’t need to be on his side. She needed to be safe.
“It seems we’re both guilty of bad judgment, aren’t we? I stole from an Irish bookie with Don Corleone delusions, and you wasted your record breaking dry spell on a common thief. A thug.”
Christ, he was a prick, he thought, feeling her take that blow as if he’d sucker punched himself. “Bronte…”
She held up her hand, unwilling to look him in the eye. She couldn’t hate him any more than he hated himself.
But he wasn’t done.
“At least you can fix that mistake now that I’m official.”
Bronte stumbled beside him. “Official?”
He swallowed, wishing a hole would appear in the ground beneath him to end this torture. “That’s right. I can vote and everything. Brady’s beau isn’t lying about his connections. I had all my paperwork in order a few weeks after I left.”
She was silent as he led her down one sidewalk, then another until the inn came into view. Thankfully, the man he’d been looking for was standing outside, his eyes narrowed on a building across the street, phone in hand.
“Tanaka,” he called sharply, causing the slender man’s gaze to land on him in surprise.
“William. I was about to call you to fill you in on—”
William held up his hand, letting Ken see the rage he’d been hiding. “I got the message, and I appreciate the efforts you’ve made, but I won’t thank you for allowing Bronte to put herself in harm’s way without telling me.”
Ken didn’t flinch. “If you two would stop with all the damn secrets, maybe I wouldn’t get confused about who’s allowed to know what.”
“She knows everything now.”
Ken looked down at her. “Everything?”
William scowled. “Enough. You need to take her home. Today.”
“Now wait just one damn minute, you lying, high-handed son of a bitch.”
He almost smiled as Bronte spit fire at him, reminding him of the first time they’d met. “I brought this to your door, Bronte. I’ll own that. Now you need to let me fix it.” He flicked a glance at Tanaka, who was listening intently. “Mahoney isn’t going to bother anyone connected to the family. Not after our
meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“The one I’ll tell you about as soon as you get Brady to take my wife back to her family.”
“Brady’s here?”
Ken sighed. “I can do that. I’ll put her on Tasha’s flight. It leaves in an hour.”
“What? Wait a minute, Ken. I have my own ride and I’ll get myself home as soon as I—”
William pressed one finger to Bronte’s lips, letting his expression soften. “Go with them, Nightingale. Please. When the time comes, I’ll sign whatever papers you need me to sign. You were right and I was wrong. We’re not a good fit.”
She jerked back as if he’d struck her and he stepped away, sending one last look in Tanaka’s direction. “Take care of her. You know how to reach me once she’s gone.”
Ken’s eyes took him in as if he could see everything. He nodded once, moving closer to Bronte’s side.
His last look at his wife’s face would stay with him for as long as he lived. She was mad as hell and so beautiful it made him ache to walk away, letting her believe he didn’t love her.
That might have been the biggest lie he’d ever told.
Chapter Nine
“Bronte? We brought food, so don’t throw anything at us until I set it down.”
She looked up from the pile of yarn on the floor to see Austen and Hugo step through her door carefully, as if wary for potential booby traps. “Mama gave you the spare key, didn’t she?”
Austen set down the pizza on her small kitchen table and slipped off her heels in one graceful motion. “You think our sweet, innocent mother would do that to you? After you expressly forbid it and asked for space and understanding?”
Hugo dropped down on the floor beside her, crossing his legs and flashing his deep dimples in her direction. “That was a yes in case you’re too depressed to get her sarcasm.”
She got it. She just didn’t have the energy or desire to deal with it. “I hope you two aren’t trying your hand at that Kumbaya bullshit Hugo’s new family is so fond of.”
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