“Yes. It’s slightly crooked. Which I find ridiculously adorable, but I’ve wondered what happened.”
“Oh. Nothing really interesting. I got hit in the face with a soccer ball when I was younger.”
“You never had it fixed.”
She raised a brow. “It doesn’t hinder my ability to breathe so I didn’t see any reason to spend all that money on a purely cosmetic procedure. Is that a problem for you?”
“Quite the opposite. As I said, I find it ridiculously adorable. The only flaw on an otherwise perfect face.”
Rolling on top of him, she straddled his hips, delighted when his cock twitched beneath her. “Perhaps I should break your nose, too. It seems unfair for only one of us to have a perfect face.”
His chest rumbled with laughter as he gripped her hips, lifting her to settle on his half-hard cock. “Perfect, you say?”
“Please.” Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes on a sigh as she rode him, slowly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. “You know damn well your face is perfect.”
“It’s simply the rest of me that’s flawed.”
The bitterness in his tone had her lifting her head to stare down at him. “Not flawed. Hardened, perhaps. Even blackened in places. But you are exactly what you need to be to protect your family. And that, my love, is the furthest thing from a flaw.”
She caught just a glimpse of tears shimmering over the emerald of his eyes before he blinked and they were gone. “The things you do to me. My wife. Mo chroí istigh ionat.”
More than the words themselves, the emotion in his voice washed over her, warming every inch of her skin as she rode them both to oblivion again. Collapsing atop him, she curled into his chest with a sigh, her eyes drifting closed as exhaustion overtook her.
And she slept, secure in the knowledge he would keep her and their child safe as she did.
Chapter Forty-Two
Killian
He didn’t sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed, either. Every time he thought about quietly slipping out of his wife’s arms, he was gripped with such bone-deep terror he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. He needed to be with her, to hear her deep breaths, to feel the steady beat of her heart as he held her.
So for once, he gave himself what he needed, even though there were others who wanted his attention.
After the day they’d had, he figured he was due a little indulgence.
He let her sleep as long as he could before rousing her. As always, she resisted at first, her nose doing that adorable little crinkle as she whined and tried to roll away.
“None of that, princess,” he scolded playfully, pulling her back against him. “It’s time to wake up. We, unfortunately, have responsibilities outside this room.”
“You have ‘sponsibilities,” she mumbled, burrowing into him. “I’m just a girl.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Perhaps, but you are also my wife, and that does indeed come with responsibilities. But if you’re still so very sleepy, perhaps a spanking would help wake you up.”
That got her attention. Jerking away, she glared up at him. “You wouldn’t!”
“I wouldn’t, what? Spank you for being a stubborn brat?” Chuckling, he cupped her face in his hand and dipped his head to brush a teasing kiss over her pouty lips. “What do you think, princess?”
“I think you’re a bossy jerk, is what I think. But fine. I’m getting up.”
He watched, delighted, as she rolled out of bed and stalked naked to his closet, where she’d moved some of her clothes over the past week. Their closet now, he supposed, and made a mental note to have the rest of her belongings brought over tomorrow.
Rising from the suddenly too-empty bed, he followed her into the closet, watching from the corner of his eye as she yanked a dress from a hanger and pulled it over her head. It was another of those dresses that clung lovingly to every curve.
He couldn’t wait to peel it off her later.
But they did, indeed, have responsibilities. People who would be looking to him, to them, for answers. So he forced himself to ignore the need stirring inside him and select his own clothes for the evening. It was tempting to simply throw on a pair of slacks and a sweater, something he rarely did. But his family would be expecting him to show up not just as the head of their family, but their leader as well.
A suit as usual, then. But once this was all said and done, once they had finally freed themselves of the criminal world they were so deeply entrenched in, he swore to himself he was never going to wear a suit within the confines of his own home again.
