I fill him in on the whole mess, from Maeve heading out to ride today, to the phone call, to my attempt to fire Eddie and Davis, and Jack convincing me to do otherwise. Flynn listens without interrupting, his expression growing darker with each detail.
"You need to pull her out of here," he says when I finish. "Get her somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't find her."
I let out a sharp breath. "I can't. The Council wants me here, managing the Connelly estate."
Flynn nods. "Then reinforce this place. Hire more security."
"Already done. I want you to coordinate everything. You're in charge of keeping her alive."
He raises an eyebrow. “That almost sounds like you care about her, Sean.”
I glare at him. "She's my wife."
"That's not an answer." Flynn chuckles, and my glare deepens.
“I’m supposed to be keeping her—all of this—safe. And clearly I need someone I know I can trust to be in charge of it all.”
I can tell Flynn wants to make another quip, but he doesn’t. "Fair enough." He stands, shouldering his bag. "Show me the security setup. Let's figure out how to keep your bride alive."
—
It'spast midnight when I finally make my way upstairs.
I should go to my own room. I know that Maeve probably doesn’t want me in hers—probably doesn’t want me anywhere near her. But with the shooting today still so fresh, the pull to watch her, to keep an eye on her myself, feels unbearable.
I can’t stop seeing her as she got out of the car, pale and trembling… how close she came to dying. How easily she could have been snatched away, bringing the Connelly family to a close. How easily I could have failed to keep her safe before the task had barely even begun.
I knock softly on her door, not expecting an answer. When none comes, I ease the door open.
She's asleep, curled on her side in a too-large bed under a mound of blankets, her ginger hair spread across the pillow. She looks impossibly young. Impossibly vulnerable.
She doesn’t look like anything that should be mine.
I know I should leave and let her sleep in peace. Instead, I move to the armchair by the window and sit down, telling myself that I'll just stay for a few minutes. Just make sure she's really okay. Just…
The chair is comfortable, soft, and plush, and the room is warm and quiet except for her soft breathing. And I'm so fucking tired—from the adrenaline crash, from the rage, from trying to keep myself from tearing through anyone who had the slightest thing to do with the failure to keep her safe today. I feel the tension in my shoulders ease ever so slightly, and exhaustion sweeps in.
My eyes drift closed. Just for a minute…
I wake to something soft brushing across my shoulders.
My training kicks in immediately. My hand shoots out, grabbing a wrist and yanking the person attached to it forward.My other hand goes to where my gun would be if I were wearing it.
"Sean!"
It’s Maeve's voice, I realize, startled and frightened. The moment I hear it, I freeze, blinking away the sleep from my eyes as I focus in on what’s in front of me.
She’s standing there, wrapped in a robe, her wrist caught in my grip. She’s so close to me that I can smell the sweet, powdery scent of her skin, a hint of something like roses wafting from her. Her hair is in her face, and I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks, as soft as the silk of her skin under my rough fingertips. She’s so warm, so delicate, so feminine, and everything about her calls to a deep, primal, masculineneedin me that’s desperate to be satisfied. A need that still remembers what she felt like between her thighs, just as soft and silky, how her legs looked splayed open for me on our wedding night, how her?—
The air between us thickens, tension throbbing in the space between her body and mine. I see her slender chest heaving beneath her robe, feel my cock stiffening in response to the desire that’s rapidly heating the air around us. I could pull her forward so easily, topple her into my lap. Pull her astride me and unzip, palm my cock free, and thrust into her. The picture of it is so clear in my mind, her delicate folds parted around my thick shaft, her virgin blood staining my skin, my jeans?—
I release her so fast that she almost stumbles back, my breath coming hard and my cock throbbing.Fuck. I should have known better than to come in here while she was sleeping, better than to allow myself anywhere so close to her.
"Christ." I release her immediately, standing. I realize there’s a blanket on the floor between us, and I feel worse than I did a moment ago. She must have been trying to cover me up, and I— "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—are you okay?"
She rubs her wrist, her eyes wide. "You scared me."
"I know. I'm sorry." I run a hand through my hair, trying to orient myself. I fell asleep in her room. In the armchair where I was supposed to be watching over her. "I shouldn't be here."
