Page 32 of Desperate Needs

She’d been tight. Not a virgin, which I couldn’t allow myself to focus on, but tight enough that I knew whoever she’d been involved with before didn’t know shit about women.

I should hunt them down. Her ex-lovers. And I should beat the crap out of them for doing her a disservice.

My chest rumbled at the idea. It had merit. But really, I shouldn’t be feeling this possessive about this woman.

She wasn’t mine.

I couldn’t keep her.

And God knew, she was going to fucking hate me if she ever found out what I was really doing there.

What are you doing, Connor? You pitiful fuck up!

I closed my eyes against the sound of my father’s voice, dripping with bitterness and hatred like always, filled my head.

The old man had terrible timing. Even as a fucking ghost.

I sighed softly, looking down at the beautiful woman in my arms. I wished I could be there to see what she looked like with the sunlight dancing across her pale skin. Wanted to know what her green eyes looked like when she took her first peek at the new day.

Was she a morning person? Did she prefer late nights? How did she take her coffee? Or was she a tea drinker?

Those were little things I failed to note while I was keeping tabs on her.

But I never did that.

I never stayed.

And I wouldn’t now. I couldn’t.

Even if the idea of it sent something spiraling through me. Something that reeked very closely of possession.

No. Clementine Aziz was not mine. For more than one reason, but for this most of all.

I was the man who was going to show up her father’s company.

Eye on the ball, Connor. Don’t fuck up.

The old man’s voice was back, and it was making me angry. I slid out of bed, carefully, and walked through the hall to the small office she worked in from home.

Her laptop was on the desk. I was careful not to disturb anything as I opened the top, typed in her password, and hacked my way through the other safety protocols.

They were good. Don’t get me wrong.

I was just better at this.

Once I had the virus loaded, all I had to do was wait for her to connect to Sigma International’s database and bam.

I’d have access to everything.

Guilt bubbled up within me, slow and inevitable. But I buried it beneath my own selfish reasons.

See, when my father fucked up everything for my family, I wasn’t talking about just my mother or sister.

I was talking about my cousins, my friends, the guys who raised me, lifted me up when the old man had been knocking me down.

The entire former Callahan crime family now worked for me under Callahan Protection Group, and we all needed this windfall.

I’d sunk every dollar we had into making a go of the Group. But the economy was poor. Deals had reneged. Banks couldn’t be trusted.

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