Page 10 of Desired

A chuckle comes out that I can’t help. “He actually tore my fucking panties off, Steph. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“And your bra?”

“Well, I forgot to put that back on.” I leave out the part where we flew out of there so fast that I forgot it.

She’s confused. “Where did you guys get it on, at the restaurant? How come he tore your panties off?”

“No, we did it at his house. We were supposed to go back there to discuss my finances.”

Her eyes scan my face. “You look like you had a fantastic time. Did you go back to the office looking like that?”

“No, I had two cancellations, so I ended up doing charts from home. But I’ve got back-to-back appointments all day tomorrow.”

“Better wear a scarf, Moira. That hickey is a dead giveaway.”

“I didn’t even notice it.”

“I bet you did when he did it.”

A hand goes to my neck. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s the other side, Moira. And don’t tell me you don’t remember it, because then it couldn’t have been as good as you say it was.”

“It all happened so fast, Steph. But it was...phenomenal. A first for me.”

Her neck cranes backward as her face scrunches. “That was not your first, you lie.”

My hand goes to her forearm as I chuckle. “No, I mean it was my first time...with multiple orgasms.”

A brow lift. “No shit. Well, you’re one up on me then.”

I sit there, gaze creeping past her, remembering how hard his cock was, and how he slammed against me so deliciously, hitting every spot that needed to be touched. Then I break myself of my reverie. “But it can’t happen again. It’s over.”

An exasperated sigh. “Jesus Christ, Moira. This again?”

“Yes, Steph. You know as well as I do that I can’t get involved.”

She’s not convinced. “And why not.” It comes out as more of a statement than as a question. “You left Scotland, Moira. You left your troubles behind.”

I look up at her. Eyes full of conviction. “And what if they follow me here?”

Chapter 4

Declan

Malcolmwalksintomyback yard like he owns the place. It doesn’t bother me since I’m used to it, but sometimes, when I’m just wading in my pool, minding my own business, a heads-up phone call would be nice. All my family has a code to get into my house and my gates, so I’m a sitting duck. But, then again, we’re all sitting ducks, since we all have access to each other’s places, as per da’s insistence. “Hey, man. Is your phone off?”

“It’s probably dead. I’ve been in here a while.” I reply, looking at my waterlogged fingers.

“Uncle Dougall is having a shit.”

I chuckle mirthlessly. “Why. Can’t a man take a swim without having to post it on social media?”

“He’s not having a shit on you, man. He’s wigging out on Maverick.”

“How come?” I ask, wishing like hell that he’ll get to the point, so I can do some laps.

“He found out that Maverick set you up with that lady whose da is a fucking murderer.”

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