Nolan (Dangerous Doms 3)

Always.

“Hard for you to say, isn’t it?” I ask. My voice comes out in a pant, because he’s tugging my hair so perfectly I might come undone, right here, right now, with the streets of Ballyhock zooming out the window and his rough, strong hand cupping my breast.

“That you’ve underestimated us?”

“Aye. You don’t even know what I think of you, so how can you make such a judgment?”

He thumbs my nipple in reply, and frissons of arousal and awareness skate down my skin. My core aches, my pussy throbs, and my breasts swell.

He shakes his head. “’Tis a pity you’ve done wrong against The Clan, Sheena.”

I look at him curiously. I wonder where he’s going with this.

I don’t reply. He leans in closer to me, so close I can see light flecks of gold in his gorgeous eyes, a line between his brows, and a tiny scar to the left of his nose. I wonder where he got that.

“I’d have liked to give you a chance,” he whispers, just one second before he lowers his mouth to mine. For one brief moment, I’m not Sheena Hurston the reporter, thirsty for vengeance and ready to destroy. He isn’t my prey. When his mouth brushes mine, he could be mine.

I’ve been with many men, but most were for a purpose. They didn’t kiss, and I didn’t want them to. No one’s ever kissed me like this.

I sink lower into his arms, losing my ability to remain aloof. He yanks my hair and teases my nipple as he slides his tongue into my mouth. My pussy clenches and my body throbs. Aching. Hungry. So needy for more.

I can’t do this, I tell myself. I can’t let him seduce me with such ease. I can’t enjoy this. I’m lecturing myself with one part of my brain while the other is helpless to protest. I’ve fantasized about just this, being held in Nolan’s powerful, unrelenting hands, and touched.

Hell, can he kiss. It’s perfection, the softness of his lips, the harsh contrast of his beard, the way his hands roam purposefully over my body.

He releases me too soon. Takes his hands away from me. His eyes are cold and hard when he drops me on the seat. It’s ice water dashed on my face.

“I can’t do that, though,” he says. “Can’t give you a chance. You’ve done wrong against my brothers, and we have a code we adhere to.”

I pretend like he doesn’t affect me, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve had to do tonight.

“Ah, right,” I tell him. “If I’d left well enough alone you’d have asked me on a date, hmm? Dinner and a movie? Something vanilla, perhaps.”

His lips quirk up and he shrugs a shoulder. “Dinner and a movie, maybe. Vanilla?” He laughs mirthlessly. “No fucking way.”

A glimmer of excitement coils in my belly. I knew he was a kinky bastard.

The car comes to a halt, and all humor vanishes from his face.

“We’re at my home. You’ll come with me. You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you address my family, or face punishment. Is that clear?”

“Sure. Sounds terrifying.”

His narrowed gaze tells me he doesn’t buy my quick response.

Hell, I don’t either. I wonder again if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

I take in every detail when he opens the door.

There are two more cars that park when we do, but the others let him go ahead. Some of the men stand around us, watching. One has his hand on the butt of his gun, as if he’s prepared to draw and shoot if I do anything rash. I give him a wide grin, then Nolan tugs me along by taking my hand.

“You typically bring your prisoners up to the house by the hand?”

He doesn’t reply.

I’m familiar with the layout of this house. It’s fucking gorgeous, and I have to admit a part of me, a very teeny, tiny part, is a little jealous. After what I’m familiar with, such opulence and wealth stings like nettles.

The massive house overlooks the eastern coast of Ireland, the blue green sea churning below. The docks and ports of Ballyhock are below us. They have men that work those ports. It’s where they do their arms trade. Of course they don’t do it in the open, but it isn’t hard to note the work they do when you’re trained to observe.

Before you reach their house, there’s a beautiful garden, with a stone bench and a trellis. Maeve McCarthy tends some of the garden. A well-manicured lawn and flowering bushes and plants line the walks, and one walkway goes away from the house and toward the back, where they’ve placed a woodshed and greenhouse.

The garden’s an excellent place to hide if need be. I should know. I’ve done it before.

I know the inside of the house as well, though “officially” I’ve only spent time in their windowless room on the basement level. Last year, when he captured me and punished me.