Page 57 of Illicit Temptation

The sparse clouds in the dark blue sky let dapples of moonlight shine on the ocean across the street.

At the house, we get inside, and after a drawn-out gaze between us, the exhaustion in Shea’s eyes tempers my desire. I want her awake and on fire.

“I was committing adultery by sleeping with Archer these last three years, wasn’t I?” Her voice is small.

“That’s a technicality, I guess. If I didn’t have to fly back to Dublin to deal with a disaster and then get sent off on a three-year-long assignment, I’d have made sure no man went near you. Including him. You never would have committed that adultery.”

She looks up at me. “You wanted our wedding to...last?”

I don’t want to give away how I didn’t think of it as something flighty and ill-conceived like she does. Even if I knew it wasn’t arealmarriage. It meant she belonged to me. Even if for a little while.

“I admit, we were goofing around.” I lean in. “Then I fucked you. Consummated that sketchy wedding and it turned very real for me.”

“Is that why you like calling me your wife?”

“That and your eyes fill with fire when I say it.”

“But you’re agreeing to the divorce.” She folds her arms.

She’s got me there, only I vaguely agreed to that last August before Ares Zervas met with Griffin on New Year’s Day. Now, I’ll have the position and power to keep her as my wife. I just need her father on my side.

“We’ll get the divorce you want,” I lie. “Whenwe get home from Dunbar.”

Another lie, since I plan to come home with her father’s blessing. I challenge any one of his sons to tell me they have more of a say over Shea than her bleedin’father. I might have a black eye, a few broken ribs, and a crushed skull doing it. But Shea-Lynne is worth that pain.

The Ireland trip also buys me time. I don’t have to worry she’ll drug me or sneak off to Vegas on her own to terminate this marriage. Pay someone to pretend to be me.

Sadness takes over her features and it breaks my heart. “Um. Okay.”

With her yawn, I give up on the idea of touching her tonight. She can’t properly consent. I beat back my morally gray side that stains my soul thinking of how I’d make sure she consented. With my tongue on her clit and my finger in her ass.

Shea ambles to bed, the bag from the pharmacy clutched in her hand.

I complete my evening walkthrough of the house like I do every night before settling into bed. There’s not a hintof trouble lurking around Shea here in East Hampton. She’s a smart woman and would know what to look for given how she grew up. It’s got to be the reason her brothers let her live out here all alone. That was before Crest decided eight years wasn’t enough time with Shea.

Not anymore. She’ll never be alone again.

I check the cameras in the control room and there’s not a soul for miles.

I sit in one of the living room chairs and log into one of my stupid video games on my phone to calm my brain. I tire myself out after an hour and close my eyes. I shake awake, shocked it’s close to three a.m.

A sound in the kitchen me has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Slipping my gun from my ankle strap, I step soundlessly through the living room and into the kitchen.

My body hardens and my brain spazzes out. Shea is standing in the kitchen.

Wearing a thong.

And fucking nothing else.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Trace

“What the hell, Shea-Lynne?” I choke out.

She turns around holding a can of whipped cream. I pinch myself, thinking this has to be a dream.

“Hello,” she says to me in a formal way. “Want some dessert?”

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