Keenan (Dangerous Doms 1)

“I’ll have you again, lass,” he says.

His mouth comes to mine, and I go up on my toes when he kisses me, sighing into his mouth as one of his hands travels between my legs.

“Let’s wait,” I whisper. “Let’s wait until we’re married.”

“Wait?”

“We’re both exhausted after the day, and I want our wedding day to be special,” I tell him. I hate telling him this, for my body’s already in flames, the pulse of desire between my legs relentless.

“I can grant you that,” he says. “But know that once you’re mine, I won’t be holding back.”

I grin. “I’m counting on it.”

“I’ll want you often.”

I nod. “Well, then, that goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

He smiles.

We head back to the room, and I’m surprised to see a silver tray with two fluted glasses and a bottle of wine.

“It’s got a cork,” I say. “How do you open it?”

He spins me around and faces the bottle of wine, his naked chest against my back. “Like this,” he whispers in my ear. The way he holds me to him, his body flush against mine, makes my heart beat faster. I’m hyper aware of his raw, masculine strength, and his hardness pressed up against me. I feel small and quiet, and I’m eager to learn from him.

I watch as he uses a metal contraption to open the bottle of wine and places the cork on the little tray before pouring me a glass.

“Here you go, sweet girl,” he says. “It’ll help you sleep.”

I’m pleasantly sleepy and warmed through with the wine when he leads me to bed, tucks me in, and kisses my cheek before taking another call.

“Sleep, lass,” he whispers. “And tomorrow, we wed.”

I wake the next day to no Keenan. I look about the room, and the only remnants of his being here are the dirty clothes hanging off the side of the clothes hamper, and his empty wine glass next to mine on the tray. I yawn widely, when I notice a note on the bedside table. I can almost hear him reading it in his thick brogue.

Good morning, sweet fae. I won’t see you until we take our vows. I want to ensure your safety today, but my mother will be up shortly to help you prepare.

Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.

Though I feel a sense of loss at his absence, I know today is a special day. I trust that if he has something to do, it’s worth it, and I know beyond question that he’s left me with a sturdy guard in his absence.

A knock comes at the door.

“Hello?”

“It’s Maeve.”

I quickly don my robe and let her in. She’s carrying a silver tray laden with a teapot and scones. Leaning in, she kisses my cheek. She’s dressed in a beautiful navy blue gown that hugs her curves and graces the floor, and when she walks, she swishes.

“You look lovely,” I tell her. “And I’m still in my robe!”

“Tsk,” she says, waving aside my concerns. “I’ve come to get you ready. Now have your breakfast and we’ll get started.” Behind her come several of their servants, and a tall, much younger woman I’ve never met before who’s dressed as impeccably as Maeve. They carry a variety of things, including a dress, that make me quickly lose my taste for my breakfast.

“Caitlin, meet Megan,” she says. “My niece.”

“You’re Keenan’s cousin, then?”

“Aye,” the girl says, grinning at me. She’s got the same eyes as he does, and she’s lovely with her dark, wavy curls and bright pink lips.

“You’re so pretty,” I tell her, not knowing if it’s an appropriate thing to say or not. “Pretty as a picture.”

She grins and turns to Maeve. “You’re right. She’s a charming little thing, isn’t she, though?”

“I—I’m sorry, I don’t know the right thing to say sometimes,” I begin, but Megan shakes her head.

“Aw, no. Don’t you go apologizing for being who you are. It’s why my cousin loves you, you know. And please don’t ever apologize for paying me a compliment!”

“Oh, Maeve,” I say, looking with concern at the dress, my appetite for the scones I normally love evaporating.

“What is it, lass?” she asks.

“I can’t… how am I… what am I supposed to do? How can I do this?”

She smiles at me and reaches for my hand. “It’s very simple, sweetheart. You just say I do.”

“You make it sound easy,” I mutter, pulling my hand away and beginning to pace. “And I—there’s so much… I mean I—”

She suddenly goes wide-eyed and brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she says, and I look at her in surprise. “Are you afraid of giving him virginity, lass? I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Locked away in the lighthouse like that, you’ve never even—”

I shake my head, my cheeks on fire.

“I… um… oh, goodness,” I squeak. “No, I’m not worried about that. We’ve, um, well I—” how am I supposed to tell his mother I’m not a virgin anymore?