Carnal Urges

17

She worries about other people. She notices their pain. She empathizes—even with her f*****g kidnapper.

She’s also funny. Funny, quick-witted, and smart. She knows Epictetus, for f**k’s sake, and nobody knows him.

Worst of all, she’s completely unflappable. It’s like her superpower. She wakes up in bed with me beside her, and her reaction is a yawn.

A f*****g yawn. Who is this woman?

Angry with myself for being intrigued, I make a list:

This is the woman who got four of my men killed.

This is the woman who started a war between all the families.

This is the woman who f***s members of the Russian mafia and is lifelong best friends with the girlfriend of the head of the Russian mafia.

The woman who can’t shut her mouth for more than ten seconds at a time.

The woman who doesn’t “keep” boyfriends.

The woman with gorgeous green eyes and legs that go on for days and a pair of full, lush t**s that just beg to be squeezed, licked, and—

“Get me a whiskey,” I snap at Kieran, sounding like I’m ordering him to get me a gun instead.

He ambles away, shaking his head.

Bloody hell. I’m unraveling.

When he returns with the drink, I gulp it down in one swallow. “Is Tommy back from the store?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Make up another tray and bring it to her.”

Kieran pulls a face. “Why me?”

“She likes you.”

He couldn’t be more shocked if I’d squared off and punched him in the gut. “Me? Ach! She banjaxed my nose!”

“She feels bad about it.”

“Aye?” He pauses. “She told me that, too. I thought she was pullin’ my leg. Havin’ a wee laugh at me.”

“No.”

“Huh.”

He rearranges a few things in his head, then shrugs. “Well, I am quite likeable.”

Dear god, not him, too.

My scowl sends him hurrying away into the kitchen.

I try to turn my attention to all the things that need to be done, the phone calls and meetings and strategy planning. But all I can think about is the green-eyed demon in my bed, wearing my clothes, lying underneath my body, smiling at me.

Rubbing away the tension in my shoulders with surprisingly strong hands.

Saying softly, “Good?”

I have to get her out of this house before my d**k makes me do something stupid.

In a life full of unforgiveable sins, sleeping with the enemy would be the absolute worst.

11

Sloane

I

’m trying to decide what smartass thing to text Declan when Kieran returns, carrying another tray.

He sets it on the coffee table next to the one with all the junk. When he straightens, he clears his throat. “Here’s yer…” He glances at the tray, grimacing. “Food.”

“Oh, great. Thank you. Mmm, wheat grass. And you found the Lacinato kale!”

“I can’t take the credit. Tommy did the shopping.”

“That’s okay. You brought it in. I appreciate it.”

He looks at me. He looks back at the tray. “Ye really gonna eat that?”

“It’s super good. Full of vitamins. Want to try some?”

“Looks like lawn clippings.”

“No, it’s really yummy. I promise. You probably wouldn’t like it raw, though. That takes a bit of getting used to. But I could cook you some. Sautéed with a little garlic and olive oil, it’s divine.”

He stares at me with a strange expression. I can’t tell if he’s horrified or stunned.

“Maybe Declan would let me use the kitchen. I love to cook. I could make some food for all you guys, the whole crew. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

Kieran opens his mouth, thinks a moment, then closes it.

“I knew it. Listen, see if you can get Declan to agree to let me into the kitchen, and I’ll get you sorted, okay? And if he says no, just tell him that you and I have an agreement. You remember, from the plane? If you need me to do something, just ask me. Your boss likes to bark orders all over the place, and that’s really not my thing, but you and I are copacetic.”

“Copa…”

“It means we’re friends.”

He couldn’t look more astonished if he tried. “We are?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Right. So if Declan says I can’t go into the kitchen because there are knives in there and he thinks I’ll attack him with a cleaver, you can just ask me to hand them over and there won’t be any more knives. Or whatever. That’s just an example. My point being that I’ll honor your requests, because I know you’ll put them to me politely. With respect. Right?”

“Uh…right.”

He has no idea what’s happening. Honestly, there’s nothing more adorable than a befuddled man. Especially when they’re huge and armed.

I smile, thank him again, and lead him to the door. He exits in a fog of uncertainty.

Twenty minutes later, just as I’m finishing up my meal, Declan storms in.

He snaps, “What have you done to Kieran?”

“Moi?” I say innocently.

“Aye, you.”

“Whatever can you mean?”

He looks suspicious at my tone of wounded surprise. “I mean he came into this room working for me, and he went out of it working for you. He suddenly thinks he’s your goddamn butler!”

“I prefer the term majordomo.”

Declan narrows his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, lass.”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, gangster. I just told him I’d like to cook for him is all. Can you blame the guy for wanting to have a home-cooked meal?”