Once I’m completely naked, Liam picks me up again and steps inside the shower, placing my back directly to the spray.
I shut my brain off and close my eyes, allowing the hot water to soothe my aching muscles. I hum when Liam’s slick hands coarse over my wet, bare skin. His touch is tender, not sexual. He takes his time, soaping my body, then rinsing it clean. His large hands lather shampoo in my hair, massaging my scalp until I feel every bit of tension melt away.
No one has ever taken care of me like this before. Ironic that it’s my angel-turned-devil who seems to know exactly what to do. We don’t even know each other that well, our one night together, notwithstanding. I should hate him. I shouldn’t let him touch me like this. But I just don’t fucking care right now. About anything.
His fingers slide through the strands of my wet hair. Something floral tickles my nose.
“What’s your full name?” I ask him.
He angles back my head to rinse the conditioner out.
“Liam Patrick Connelly.”
“Very Irish.”
“Aye.”
I open one eye. He grins at me and turns me around, twisting my hair to wring it out.
“Any relation to the McCarthys?”
I’m a McCarthy. My mother was… oh, right. She’s dead. Declan said he killed her. And yet, I still don’t feel anything about that. I really am a fucked-up mess.
“All Irish families are related in some way.”
He wraps his arms around my chest and molds my back to his front. My body is so warm now from the heat of the water falling on me from the front, and his heat pressing against my back. I’m cocooned.
“I dream about you,” I tell him.
The shower feels almost like a confessional. Like I can say anything here, confess my darkest thoughts. Can it also absolve me of my sins? Of the most heinous sin I just committed?
“I hope it’s the same dream I have where you’re riding my dick.”
Light laughter bubbles out of me because I can’t deny it.
“Why doesn’t this feel weird?”
Being in here with him should freak me out. I shouldn’t let Liam get within a hundred feet of me, let alone shower naked with him. Liam is basically a stranger to me. He works for Declan, which makes him dangerous. But somehow, for some inexplicable reason, I feel safe with him.
He hums in answer, the vibrations from his chest tickling my skin and making my nipples pucker.
“What does Declan want with me?”
Soft lips place a kiss to my shoulder. “He wants to know his daughter.”
I blow out a small scoff. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Why not?” Liam questions.
Because everyone, throughout my entire life, has used me. Hurt me. Lied to me.
I want to ask him why he’s doing this. The night he and I spent together in Geneva was not one filled with tender moments. It was twelve hours of rough, hard fucking and possession. He ripped from me dark desires I never knew I wanted and claimed me in a way that has branded me as his. He haunts my dreams. It’s strange to feel this pull with not only him, but with Jax and Keane as well. And Rafe—I can’t think about him right now. My emotions are too raw where he’s concerned.
“I need to know if Jax and Keane are alive.”
The last time I saw Jax was from the window. He had taken down one of Declan’s men.
Liam tenses behind me. I move to slip out of his arms, but he pulls me back to him.
