“You’re fucking with me.”
Now it was her turn to smile, slow and wicked. “Maybe. Or maybe you handed me everything I need to know about your world on a literal silver platter.”
Sitting back in his chair, he plucked a grape from the bowl of fresh fruit between them. “You know you only need to ask.”
“Right.” She snorted out a laugh. “Like if I walked into your office and asked you to show me how to stab a man you’d be like ‘Sure thing, princess’.”
“Well, no.”
But before she could revel in her righteous smugness too much, he continued. “I’d need to know why you’re stabbing him. Are we going for the kill or just to incapacitate? Or, if it’s a torture scenario, there are specific places you can stab someone to avoid any permanent damage, at least until you’ve gotten the information you need.”
She’d known he was dangerous. Hell, he’d told her that to her face, and she’d seen glimpses of the monster he was beneath the sophisticated mask when he’d threatened to have her father killed right in front of her. But just then she had the stomach-churning suspicion that she was seeing the real Killian O’Rourke. The version of him that struck fear into the hearts of otherwise brave men.
And despite being terrified right down to her bones, her pussy was even wetter than it had been reading her books.
Fuck.
Ignoring her own reactions, at least as much as she was humanly able, she tilted her head, watching him for any sign he was lying. “And you would teach me? If I asked?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Picking up the coffee he’d poured for himself, he watched her over the rim. “Because I have, however unintentionally, brought you into my world. A very dangerous world full of very dangerous people. If you want to know how to protect yourself and our child, why would I deny you that knowledge?”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll use it against you? Stab you in your sleep?”
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“But you aren’t worried.”
“Not really,” he said with a careless shrug that said he really wasn’t worried. “While I have no doubt that you could and would take someone out if they actively threatened you, you’re far too principled to simply stab me in my sleep. It would be akin to shooting someone in the back. It’s the coward’s way out, and you, my fierce little princess, are not the least bit cowardly.”
It shouldn’t turn her on, talking about murder and torture over breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world. And yet, she couldn’t deny the throb between her legs that only grew worse with every word he spoke.
Hormones. It had to be the hormones. Hadn’t she read somewhere that pregnancy hormones made women ridiculously horny?
And if it was the hormones then, well, it wasn’t really her fault if she acted on that need, right?
Clinging to that rationalization, no matter how weak it was—and she was self-aware enough to admit it was weak as fuck—she rose from her chair to straddle his thighs.
Amusement danced across his features as his hands came up to cup her ass. “Something I can help you with, princess?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m pregnant and hormonal and apparently that translates to wanting to ride you like a bull. But I’m not going to.”
“Oh?”
“No. You’re going to take me to bed and make me come, but you are not going to fuck me.”
The hands on her ass tightened. “Is that so?”
“It is. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not in the slightest.”
She didn’t want to be thrilled by the effortless way he rose from the chair, still holding her to him. And yet, it was there anyway, a primal little shiver racing up her spine at that easy display of strength.
Then she was on the bed, pinned beneath him, and all thoughts of what she should or shouldn’t be doing were pushed from her mind as he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her pajama shorts. Clever fingers worked at her already aching clit, sending jolts of electric need arcing through her veins.
