Keenan (Dangerous Doms 1)

They tell me stories that make me laugh so hard I wipe tears from my eyes, stories that make me wish I knew them all when they were younger. And to think, while all this happened, I was secreted away just miles from their home, drinking tea and reading books and wondering what the world was like outside my window.

These men are to be my brothers, I remind myself again. I like that.

They pass me the flask, and I take a few small sips, and soon I’m pleasantly warm and at ease. I lay on the bed with my hands under my cheek, listening to their deep voices and lilting brogues, and don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I feel one of them tuck a blanket around me. I try to open my eyes, but they’re too heavy. They shut off the lights, but don’t leave. I’m dimly conscious of Cormac’s heavier footsteps pacing by the door and Nolan pacing by the window.

Despite the circumstances, despite the raw brutality of the night we’ve had and will have yet, I feel safe, and warm, and comfortable.

So this is what it’s like to have someone care for you. This is what it’s like to have family.

I doze in and out, and I’m half asleep when there are footsteps outside the door. Cormac opens it, and the men speak in hushed voices. I hear Keenan’s familiar voice, and try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. A pleasant sort of warmth fills my chest just hearing him speak to his brothers, then the door shuts, and I hear him come to me.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, sweet girl,” he says, his voice tired but clear as day. He lifts the blanket. “You’re still fully clothed.”

I turn over toward him and yawn widely. “I didn’t want to get changed into those skimpy little nightclothes with your brothers here.”

Bending down, he wraps me in his arms and holds me. “Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. “That pleases me.” He pauses, then, “Caitlin, have you been drinking?”

I yawn again widely. “Mmm,” I tell him. “Loads. I’m very sleepy and warm.”

But he isn’t amused. He takes my jaw in his large hand and I open my eyes with effort. “Loads?” he repeats.

I shrug. “Well. Loads for me,” I say. I yawn again. “It just made me sleepy.”

His beautiful eyes darken, but a corner of his lips quirks up. He leans in and kisses me questioningly, as if to taste me, his lips gentle and probing. “You taste like whiskey.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He snorts with laughter, which pleases me. He can’t be that angry, then. “There are worse things.”

He lifts my arms, removing my dress, and it isn’t until I’m sitting in front of him in my undergarments that I remember. Tonight was the night. How could I have forgotten? But that was before everything else that happened.

“Keenan?” I ask, as he reaches for my bra clasp, and helps me out of it.

“Yes?”

“Do you still… are we… do you want to…”

He slips the silky garment off and lays it at the foot of the bed, then reaches for the elastic waistband of my panties, but doesn’t reply or move, his thumbs hooked into the fabric. The feel of his warm, sturdy hands undressing me with confidence, and the way his eyes roam hungrily over my body, makes me shiver.

“Shh, lass,” he whispers. And I know then that is a yes. The plan hasn’t changed. If anything, he wants to be with me more than ever. He needs me tonight.

“How did everything go tonight?” I ask him politely, even as pressure builds between my thighs and I clench them together. I shake with nerves and anticipation. I’m not sleepy now.

“As planned,” he says. “We have answers, and tomorrow we’ll have to make our move. Now no more questions, Caitlin. I don’t wish to talk of anything else. The less you know the better.”

There are so many questions I want to ask him, but I want to honor his request. He’s had a tough night of it. And I know now it will be like this often, between the two of us, Keenan having a difficult evening, making a challenging decision, seeing the men he cares about hurt or worse, killed. And he’ll want to come back to me. He’ll need me to be ready for him. He’ll need me to need him. To let him hold me, to let me absorb the darkness he dwells in and give him a glimpse of light.

I reach my hand out to touch his cheek. Closing his eyes, he holds my hand against him, brings my palm to his lips, and kisses me. A deep, abiding sense of longing pervades me, and I whisper, "Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.”