“Don’t tell me you’re scared of us now.” Patrick quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll find you so much more interesting if you go scorched earth on anyone who has ever wronged you.”
“You know, Patrick. I have questions about how you ever get laid, but with that type of confidence, I’m sure plenty of women have fallen for your particular type ofcharm.”
His eyes sparkle as his lips tip up. “I’ll be happy to show you my brand of charm atany time. Just say the word, sweetheart.” He teases his thumb over my lower lip, and a shiver slides down my spine.
Goddammit.
I’m a hypocrite for the way I talked about Lacey fully being in her bad-boy era. He smells too good, and I’ve always been attracted to cocky guys.
I’m not proud of the fact that I shove off the wall, stretching up until my lips hover an inch away from his. Our breath mingles, and a low growl rattles out of his chest as he leans down to meet me in the middle.
His lips are curved into a smirk as his mouth brushes mine. That alone should be enough to have me kneeing him in the balls, but I’m weak, and his pheromones are making me floaty.
He wraps his hand around my lower back, and his other weaves into my hair as he growls, slamming my ass against the wall.
Patrick isn’t teasing, slow, or playful.
He fucks his tongue into my mouth and moves me where he wants me with a fistful of my hair. He puts that confident swagger to good use, destroying me with licking, teasing kisses.
His knee notches between my thighs as his front pushes against mine, and I almost wish he’d be a little less gentlemanly with the locations of his hands.
Patrick pulls me closer, and I melt into him, releasing an embarrassing little moan that only makes him more feral.
He’s a bossy kisser, and it ratchets up my natural instinct to be submissive and go with the flow. His scent is everywhere, and it makes my head foggy as he nips at my lower lip.
A loud banging rings through the air as someone knocks on his office door. I jolt, but Patrick doesn’t miss a beat. He swirls his tongue around my lip and pulls back.
“You in there, Pat?” a male voice yells through the door. It might be the older man who was patching him up that first night—Seamus?
“What?” Patrick growls.
“The front gate staff has been calling the three of you,” the man says. “They wanted to know how to proceed. One of the Chapmans’ cars is at the gate, trying to gain entrance. They couldn’t reach any of you, and they didn’t want to cause an incident, so they waved them through.”
“Jesus,” Patrick mutters. “Apparently I don’t pay those people to think…”
Chapter Eighteen
Cormac
Ifinally make it downstairs after showering, and it appears that I beat Malachy. I needed his help moving our guest from intake to his cell. Technically, I could have dragged him while he was unconscious, but I didn’t want to. The man is well-fed, and I don’t have the body mass that Malachy or Patrick has.
Also, I was up until six in the morning having a heart-to-heart with my guest. Well, I was speaking. He was gagged, so he couldn’t respond, but he did listen. He needs to understand the rules of my workshop.
I’m peeking around to determine where I’m most likely to find Charlotte when she comes around the corner with Patrick.
A half second later, footfalls pound on the stairs behind me.
Malachy must be ready to join the party.
I barely get myself moved off the landing at the bottom of the stairs when the front door slams open.
My jaw falls.
Vanessa fucking Chapman saunters inside, looking like she’s just aching to mess something up. Visually, she’s as beautiful as ever, dressed in a tight black dress that falls to mid-thigh and a pair of red-bottom heels that would put a small dent in the amount her family would owe to break the contract.
She has curly brown hair that falls past her chest and a cunning smile on her face that makes me uncomfortable.
My head whips between Charlotte and Vanessa, and my stomach rolls.
