A muscle tics in his jaw.
I stand, suddenly restless. “I need to change. I’ve been in these clothes all day and fell asleep in them.”
“Go on, then. I’ll start making that list.”
I head upstairs to the bedroom, stripping off my jeans and jumper. I completely forgot I was wearing the periwinkle-blue top underneath.It came just before Bridget’s nurse called me, so I just pulled a jumper over it. It’s backless, the fabric draping elegantly but leaving my entire back exposed. Sophisticated but sexy as hell.
I stare in the mirror. The color brings out my eyes, and the way it skims my curves while showing off my back makes me feel powerful. Dangerous.
I’m still admiring it when I hear Cavin’s footsteps on the stairs. He appears in the doorway, and the moment his eyes land on me, he goes completely still.
“What’s this, then?” His voice has dropped an octave.
“Something I ordered online. Just trying it on.” I turn, giving him the full view. “It’s calledperiwinkle. Isn’t that cute? I thought maybe when you take me back to The Craic?—”
“No.” He crosses the room in three strides, his hand sliding possessively across my bare back. “Absolutely fuckin’ not.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
His eyes have gone dark, pupils blown wide. “If you wear that in public, Erin, I swear to Christ, I will bend you over my knee and spank your arse until you can’t sit.”
Heat floods through me at the promise in his voice. “Is that supposed to discourage me?”
He makes a sound low in his throat—half growl, half groan. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Good thing you love me, then.”
His hand slides up my spine, fingers tracing the exposed skin. “Aye. Good thing.”
Then he’s kissing me, and it’s hungry and desperate and everythingwe both need after the day we’ve had. His hands map every inch of bare skin, and I arch into his touch.
“The list can wait,” he murmurs against my mouth. “We need make-up sex.”
“Aye,” I breathe out. “It can wait. I like the sound of make-up sex.”
He backs me toward the bed, and I forget about tributes and enemies and everything else except the way he makes me feel—wanted, needed,his.
When my legs hit the mattress, he eases me down, following me onto it. His hands slide under the fabric, pushing it up and over my head in one fluid motion. Then I’m bare from the waist up, and he looks at me like I’m something precious. My breath catches.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, and then his mouth is on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple before he takes it between his teeth, just enough bite to make me arch into him with a cry.
My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other. Every touch feels electric, like my skin has been sensitized to him specifically.
I tug at his shirt impatiently, and he helps me pull it off, baring the sculpted muscle and scattered scars beneath. I trace one with my finger—a long, thin line across his ribs.
“Belfast job gone wrong,” he murmurs. “Four years ago.”
I lean up and press my lips to it. Then another scar, and another… mapping his history with my mouth until he groans and captures my lips again.
His hands make quick work of the rest of my clothes, dragging them down my legs along with my knickers. Then I’m bare beneath him, and the hunger in his eyes makes me feel powerful.
“You’re overdressed,” I tell him, my voice husky.
“Aye. Can’t have my girl lookin’ at me with all that hunger and not give her what she wants, can I,mo chroi?”He smirks and stands to shed the rest of his clothes. When he’s finally naked, I let myself look. Really look. He’s all lean muscle and coiled strength, and his thick erection tells me hewantsme.
He prowls back onto the bed, settling between my thighs. His fingers trace up the inside of my leg, teasing, until I’m squirming beneath him.
“Mmm, yes. Please.”
