Page 27 of My Irish Mafia King

“Steamy,” she murmurs, then quickly walks ahead of me like she’s embarrassed by what she’s just said.

I follow her, certain of two conflicting ideas at the same time. This is the best and worst decision I have ever made.

Eleven

LUCY

Clover leaps down from the couch and starts barking at Killian when we enter the apartment. Ronan stands up from the chair, speaking in Gaelic. Killian replies in kind, and then Ronan leaves the room.

“He’s going to wait downstairs, watch the street,” Killian explains once Ronan is gone. He kneels, looking at Clover. “I guess you fear me now, huh, girl?”

Clover’s fur stands on edge, her little mouth opening and closing as she gnashes her teeth.

“It’s okay,” Killian murmurs. “I will not cause another scene. You’re a good girl.”

I watch in awe as Clover slowly moves toward Killian. It’s difficult to believe that this version of Killian is the same man who savagely beat Shane yesterday. He seems so much gentler, caring, and romantic. Clover is still growling as she approaches Killian. But when he strokes her, she settles down.

Killian sits on the ground and lets Clover climb into his lap, looking up at me with an almost boyish smile on his face, the lamplight dancing in his blonde-silverish hair. “Somebody has forgiven me. How old is she?”

“Nine,” I tell him. “She can be pretty grouchy with people. She hasn’t snuggled up to Ronan yet… oh, by the way, did you tell him we were in a relationship?”

Killian stands, smiling indulgently when Clover yaps to be picked up. He leans down and scoops her up. “No, why?”

“He just seemedsuperkeen to make sure I knew he had a girlfriend and he would never try anything with your woman.”

“Is that what he called you—my woman?”

“Pretty much.”

“People have noticed a change in me,” he murmurs, walking over to the couch.

I sit next to him, my leg brushing against his. Just that, a simple brush of the leg, but it’s enough to make the tingles go into overdrive. I squeeze my thighs together, my sex aching, begging. Get a grip, girl…

“What sort of change?”

“Ever since I started coming here, I’ve gone from grumpy to… slightly less grumpy.”

“You’ve never seemed grumpy to me.”

“That’s because I’m with you.”

Clover wriggles and then hops down from the couch like she wants to give us some alone time together. His hand moves across the couch. I know where this is going to lead. Nerves twist through me. He knows how old I am, twenty-three… What would he think if I told him?

“I was going to make sure you behaved yourself,” I remind him.

“It’s difficult,” he admits, his voice husky. “And that’s an understatement.”

“Maybe some homework will help.”

I stand up, walking toward my bedroom.

“Giving me a perfect view of your perfect bodywon’thelp.”

I look at him over my shoulder. “Perfect, seriously?”

He looks at me with no sarcasm. “You heard me.”

“If we’re going to behave, you need to stop looking at me like I’m a pastry.”

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