Page 80 of Forbidden Bond

Mm, yes, that was what she needed. His fingertips skimmed lower, the moment they brushed across her clit, she called out in climax as her body clung to his.

“Lord,” she whispered when her peak of pleasure yanked his to its summit.

With him embedded deep inside her, she lost the tension of her arms and fell onto her back, right there, sprawled across the desk.

“Mo Grá,” she panted, eyes closed. He slid out and righted her dress just enough to cover the sensitive parts. “If I stay right here, will I get in the way of your business?”

As he sat at the desk, she opened her eyes. With her head on the angle of his side, she smiled at him upside down.

“You’re never in the way.”

He touched her shoulder and kept on going until he held her breast beneath the concealing fabric. Her arms weren’t in the dress, but she didn’t care. She did care his mouth was so far from hers.

“Everyone went through the curtain, is there a party going on upstairs?”

“Basement,” he said and opened a drawer to retrieve a stack of paper.

“Basement? The stairs through there are up.”

Reading, he didn’t give her his full attention. “There’s a concealed stairway access through the playroom.”

So much she still didn’t know about the building. Breathing out, holding the dress to her chest, she gave in to the inevitable and sat up. That was the “oops, shit,” moment. Nicole still lay there, on the rug, dead.

“Oh, God.”

“It’s handled,” her guy muttered behind her.

“We just had sex in front of a corpse.” And hadn’t she just been thinking they hadn’t done anything freaky in a while? Yeah, that definitely qualified. “I can’t believe she’s really dead.”

“Not much more proof I can give you than what you’re looking at.”

“Who was he?” she asked, looping her arms into her dress while twisting on her butt to sit in the middle of his desk, legs curled at her side. “The shooter? How did he get past security?”

Without furor or panic. If he’d fought his way in and up the Stag stairs, shouldn’t they have had some warning in the form of sound at least?

The cigar box sat back in its place. Huh, how had that happened? Did it still have—

Conn’s heavy hand closed the lid before she could open it more than an inch. “I don’t know,” her guy said, still reading,until his eyes rose to hers above the document for a second. “We’ll look into it.”

Yeah, right, like she believed that. But she wasn’t supposed to, his gaze said it all. When he was reading again, her mind went to work.

“You let him through security. You must’ve. No one would get into Stag without…” she whispered. “How could he know Nicole would be right there, right then to—who was he? Was it him at the hotel earlier? Did he follow your people here?”

“Our people. And no.”

“I don’t understand.”

“All players saw what they needed to see. Everything went according to plan.”

Not enough that Nicole was just dead, the whole thing had been orchestrated by…

“You’re incredible,” she whispered. “The cops said ‘Irish down’ on their—”

“We’re not the only Irish in the city.” More than incredible. He put the paper aside. “You haven’t eaten dinner, do you want to go out?”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Free choice, pick any restaurant in the city.”

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