Page 31 of The Chief's Captive

“You like it when I’m rough with you?” he growls, and I can tell he’s close too by the way his hips jerk.

“Yes… Fuck, yes,” I moan, clenching my muscles as tight as I can around his dick. His grip on my hip tightens, and he slams into me over and over. I come apart, spasming and gasping for air. The water splashes down over both of our bodies, and all I can do is keep my knees locked so I don’t collapse. The sensations are incredible, and when he explodes his hot cum inside me, I twitch and lean on the wall for support.

We both pant for air, his body pressed against my backside and my head lolling forward onto my arms. He’s still hard inside me, and it feels so good I don’t want him to pull out. He smacks my ass one more time, but this time, it's gentler than before. His hand smooths over my wet, tender skin, and he slides in and out of me several more times. I love the feeling of him inside me. I love the friction and the tension. And I love knowing even if only for this moment, all he’s thinking of is me.

My mind goes to my baby again, growing in my womb. His baby. Our future. I should tell him, but how? And will he let me be my own person or will he take all the control I have left and possess me? Which version of Ronan O'Rourke will I get if I do tell him?

He pulls out, making me whimper, and I straighten. When I turn around, he kisses me again, possessively. Then he says, "I'm going to lie down and wait for you." He turns and rinses his body one last time, then steps out of the shower.

I watch him wrap a towel around himself after drying off, then I'm alone. I wash my hair and rinse out the shower. When I'm drying off, I stare at my obscured reflection in the steamed mirror and know what I have to do. I'm in love with him, and I want him to know about his baby, even if it means a terrifying future with him. I still want my life, surgery, my practice, helping people, but not if it means not having him.

I twist my hair up in a towel and wrap another around my body with a mental note to ask Brigid to bring more. Then I step into the bedroom, prepared to lie down next to Ronan and tell him I'm pregnant, but when I fold the covers back, I hear snoring. He's passed out and exhausted, and I've lost my chance.

My eyes turn to the door. We're alone here. I've been alone here since he rushed out to do whatever it was that got him shot. I don't know if there are guards outside, but I could probably run.

Except I don't want to. I want to stay. I want this.

21

RONAN

Sometime early in the night, I awaken curled around Maeve. She's snoring lightly, deep in sleep, and her hair is still damp from showering. Two towels lie across the foot of the bed. Mine is still tightly lashed around my waist. I kiss the back of her shoulder, but she doesn't stir.

The clock radio says just after eleven. I don't know what time it was when we fell asleep, but I'm not tired now. After everything that happened and returning here to Maeve, I'm guessing it isn’t that late. Now I want to know what Declan and Lochlan sorted out and whether I have to deal with Eamon or not. It isn't on the list of things I'd like to be doing right now, but sleep is evading me, and I might as well use my time wisely.

So after pressing another kiss to Maeve's shoulder, I slip out of bed. The lights are off, but I don't need them to find clothes. I leave my towel on the floor next to the bed and find some slacks and boxers. When I slip into the walk-in closet, I shut the door behind myself so I can turn the light on to find a shirt. Falling asleep early wasn't my plan, but after being shot again, drinkingthat much all at once, and the great sex, I passed out. Now I have to make up for it.

When my shirt is on and my tie is tied, I find a pair of shoes that aren't stained in blood and shut the light off, allowing my eyes to readjust to the darkness before returning to my dresser to take socks. Maeve continues sleeping peacefully, something I know she really needs, so I leave as quietly as I can.

When I step into the hallway I hear voices in my living room. I recognize Lochlan's voice right away. At least he's wise enough to know I was sleeping and didn't disrupt me, but now that I'm awake, I need to know what he knows so I can get down to business. I move in that direction and find him seated across from Connor on the sofa, talking. Each of them has a glass of alcohol in their hand, and I nod at Lochlan as I enter and sit next to him.

"So, what's the update?" I suppress a yawn and rub the sleep from my eyes. It'll take me a few minutes to really get going, but tonight, we have to finish this.

"Declan is still out. So are Finn and the rest of them…" Lochlan doesn't look convinced that they'll find our enemy. I can't even say or think his name right now, I'm so angry.

"They're hunting him…" Connor says the words as if they taste bitter, and I scowl at him. I understand the family is divided, but I won't stand for those who dissent. I'm the leader. I have to teach Connor this valuable lesson before it's too late for him.

"Good. Any man who can light a fire that burns his cousin to the ground without feeling remorse or guilt needs to be hunted." As the words roll off my tongue, Connor's eyebrows rise slightly and then fall. I see the pain in his expression and I know that feeling.None of us likes the idea that our own family would betray us and do something like this, but my brother has to see that if he follows Eamon, it won't just be our cousins.

"Ronan, Benny didn't make it. Some of us held out hope that he got out. We just prayed he stumbled away, but…" I look up at Lochlan, whose face is stricken with grief. "They found his body charred. They have to use dental records to identify him, but?—"

"But the family crest he wore on a chain around his neck was melted and fused to his breast bone." Connor finishes what Lochlan can't say, and it's something I already knew. When I saw that blaze, I knew nothing could survive it.

"We'll avenge him," I say softly, focusing on a moment of silence for my cousin who didn't deserve what happened to him. After the moment passes, I look Connor in the eye. "Eamon is coming for my authority, and when he gets me in his crosshairs, I'm next. You know this."

Connor meets my gaze and solemnly nods. The understanding is clear. He's choosing me or his cousin, and I can see the remorse in his eyes. No one likes that our blood is turning on us, and no one likes what we have to do, least of all me. But it has to be done.

"Let's go, then…"

I stand, and the boys follow me. We walk out the front door, leaving Aiden on the front step. He's been stitched up and he's using a cane to walk, but he's armed and more than able to make sure Maeve stays put, though she was left alone at the house earlier and did nothing but lie on the couch and read. Her book is still there now. I leave word with Aiden to call for a few moremen to guard the house just in case Eamon gets any more ideas, and then we climb into Lochlan's SUV.

We pull out and head south. I'm not sure where they've searched, but we have to leave no stone unturned. Eamon's not stupid enough to have stayed at his house or his father's place. I won't harm anyone who isn't involved in this, but anyone who crosses me is dead to me already, anyway. It'll be nothing for me to pull the trigger when necessary now.

"What are our chances of finding him tonight?" Lochlan asks. He drives while I sit in the passenger seat and Connor in back. Connor hands us each a fully loaded weapon, and reaching back to get it causes a stabbing pain in my shoulder. I'm reminded that I, too, got shot tonight, but it's not stopping me.

"Not good, but we're not stopping until we've exhausted everything. I know a few haunts. We just have to rouse the boys." Lochlan nods at my words and focuses on his driving.

I press my eyes closed for a second, and all I see are the flames devouring our home. The pub was where our family gathered for years. As a child, I sat on a bar stool with my apple juice pretending I was one of the men. At fourteen, I had my first drink with my uncle and father. At fifteen, my father gave me my first whore there. She was well experienced and taught me how to please a woman. At seventeen, I made my first kill—a man who stole from my father. My father had no qualms about my doing it. The man was a message, and I delivered it with a single bullet to the head.

---