“And how about adding a one-bed trope?” I hear his mirth while he lowers me into the sheets.
Yawning again, I rest into my pillow, knowing I’ll be out in minutes. “I always liked those. But we’re not enemies.”
“Indeed not.” He touches his lips to my forehead again. “Forbidden love, Darlin’. It be forbidden love. But you are animpossible find, Elexia Carter. I found ye, and I’ll not be letting ye go anytime soon. You’re mine to keep.”
“Technically, I found you.”
“Sleep.”
I’m out.
CHAPTER 8
Liam
The scent of butter and herbs fills her small kitchen as I plate the last of the breakfast. English muffins, toasted to a golden brown. Sausages, crisped just right. Hash browns with a bit of rosemary from her spice cabinet. And the omelet—fluffy, stuffed with mushrooms and tomatoes, folded precisely as my mother taught me.
Mum would have approved of Elexia Carter. Oh, she would have adored her. Not my father. Good thing he’s dead.
Lexie is captivating in a way that catches me off guard. Her responsiveness last night was…magical. At any moment, I was ready for her to battle me. In some ways, she gave me a war. More like a siege, a conquest.
No other woman compares to her. The others held no magic, no secrets, no walls worth climbing. And while previous lovers expected more from this billionaire mafia boss, Lexie gives me her awe and her disbelief. The first makes me feel morevital—like I’m a man worth respecting, not a monster worth fearing. So, I’m determined to show her I’m not just a fantasy pulled from her books.
I set the tray down and glance toward her bedroom door, slightly ajar—a mess of white sheets and a pink knitted blankettangled at the foot. The room is small, cozy. More plants hang near the window. A stack of books on the nightstand. A framed photo of her hugging an older woman—her mother, I’d wager—both laughing.
It was a pleasure to watch her fall asleep before I tended to a few things.
I must tread carefully. If Elexia is living out her fantasies, and the cold, brutal reality of my world strikes her, it could all come crashing down. The blood. The violence. The bodies I’ve buried. The enemies I’ve made…and killed.
So I fully intend to keep the dream alive for as long as possible.
Picking up the tray, I push the door open with my shoulder.
She’s still asleep, curled on her side, one hand tucked under her pillow. Her golden sunrise hair falls in loose, long curls along the white. I envy her peace. My side still throbs from the stab wound. The bruises howl along my flesh. And while it’s a little challenging to breathe, my ribs are only bruised, not broken. I know the difference.
Once I’m healed, I fully intend to fuck her raw until she doesn’t simply see me as her book boyfriend come to life. I’ll make her forget every fictional man she’s ever loved.
First, I set the tray upon the corner table, then cross to the nearby window, and yank the curtains open.
Sunlight floods the room, and she groans, burying her face into the pillow.
“Rise and shine, Darlin.”
Her eyes pop open, and she startles, sitting upright, clutching the sheets to her chest with both hands. She’s still wearing the dress from last night, the corset strings free, showing her bra.
A squeak tears from her throat. “What are you?—”
“Top of the mornin’ to ye, too, mo Róisín.”
Her face turns that lovely shade of pink I’m fond of. Messy hair raining down her cheeks and chest.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“You don’t remember…? Why, Elexia, youwoundme,” I chuff a laugh.
Picking up the tray, I move toward the bed. Confused and wary, she scans me, scrutinizing, testing.
I lower myself onto the bed and set the tray across her lap with care. “I made you breakfast.”
