“Or maybe I’m following through on my end of the deal.” He stops beside my shoulder, dangerously close. “Didn’t I promise to protect him?”
“You threatened to have him killed, Bronx.”
“And now I’m protecting him.” His dress shoes clip the floor as he walks away. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go to bed, wife.”
I fold my arms over my chest and stay rooted to the spot, not sure what the hell to think anymore. Bronx could’ve sent men to Ireland to watch over Connor, protecting him at arm’s length.
“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” I ask.
Bronx turns on his heel, expression tight, and walks straight for me. My pulse kicks, and I brace for the impact, ready to fight back. However, all he does is scoop me into the air and throw me over his shoulder.
Heat spreads where his palm presses into the back of my thigh.
“Maybe I just want you to know that I have your back.”
I don’t want to want his protection but I need him to help Connor.
I wiggle and kick my legs. “Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not falling for it.”
“This surpassed being a game when I put a ring on your finger.”
The wedding band seems heavier than it did a fewminutes ago.
He carries me to the bedroom and sets me on the mattress, then strokes away strands of my hair caught in my lashes. His intense gaze drops to my mouth and his fingertips linger at my jaw.
For a thoughtless second, I lean into his touch. Realization hits immediately and I stiffen.
“Be a good girl and go to sleep. I’m up early tomorrow for a meeting and want plenty of time to enjoy our shower together.”
When he goes into the bathroom, I strip and throw on a fresh pair of pajamas before slipping under the sheets. If he thinks flying Connor to New York will make me grateful, then he’s wrong.
Bronx Viacava doesn’t do anything without calculating the return. If Connor is here, it’s because it benefits him. I just haven’t figured out how yet.
I roll onto my side, keeping my back to the middle of the bed, but when I close my eyes, that damn kiss replays and my veins run hotter. Despite building walls, I didn’t fight against him this time because I enjoyed it too much.
However, I know the Viacavas are playing the long game. And I refuse to be played.
12
BRONX
I wake up hard as fucking steel with my wife's ass pressed against my thigh and her hair spread across my pillow.
She's still on her side of the bed, but sometime during the night she migrated toward me instead of away. Progress, even if she'd deny it with her dying breath.
Last night's kiss is burned into my memory. I keep replaying the way she melted against me before snapping back to reality, the broken sound that escaped when I licked into her mouth, how her hips rocked forward like she couldn't help herself.
Then she had to go and ruin it by bringing up her fucking ex again.
I slide out of bed without waking her. She looks peaceful so I’ll give her a reprieve this morning and let her sleep. Besides, I need a special kind of shower this morning after having her pressed against me all night.
Cold water does nothing to kill the hard-on she's given me, so I wrap my fist around my cock and strokemyself off thinking about her mouth, her tits, the way she'd look riding me with that fire in her eyes.
Three minutes later I'm coming all over the shower tiles with her name on my lips.
By the time I'm dressed for the day, she's awake and making coffee in the kitchen wearing nothing but a thin tank top and shorts that show off legs I want wrapped around my waist.
“Sleep well, princess?” I ask, moving close enough to crowd her against the counter.
