Page 63 of My Irish Mafia King

I place my hand on his leg, loving him more than I can even understand. Now that we've said "I love you," my heart feels free to express the love I've held back for so long.

"Are we going to the bakery?" I ask as he guides us through the streets.

He nods. "That's what I wanted to show you."

"A burned-out husk, all my ruined stuff inside, my Mom's dream gone?"

At a red light, he turns to me, emotion burning from his handsome features. "You’ll never be able to replace those memories," he says. "But you’ll be able to make your mother proud. You’ll be able to honor her legacy."

"We’lldo it," I tell him. "Together."

He smiles. "I like the sound of that."

Finally, we arrive at The Celtic Crust. Tears fill my eyes when I see that the rebuilding process has already begun. They have put up metal fences around The Crust, and a large metal container is overflowing with rubble.

"The bones of the building survived," he tells me. "I’m going to replace everything else... except..."

"Yeah?" I whisper, turning to him.

"I was thinking you could turn the upstairs into a seating area, perhaps with an Irish theme. You won’t need an apartment anymore..."

I laugh, tears sliding warmly down my cheeks. "Is that your way of asking me to move in with you?"

He kisses my cheek, kissing away the tears. "I need you every single night. What would I do without my lucky charm?"

"I think it’s a great idea," I tell him. "It’s so thoughtful... as long as you’re sure you can deal with my midnight baking sessions and watching me pig out."

"That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that," he says huskily. "Do you need me to prove that I love your curvy body? Is that the game you’re playing?"

He slides his hand up my leg as he crushes his lips against mine. I’ll never tire of the first moments of a kiss, the point of steamy contact when the rest of the world melts away and ceases to matter.

"I forgot," he murmurs, breathy between our kisses. "Tomorrow evening, I need you at my side, as my queen. I’m being officially sworn in as Don, so this is your last chance..."

"An Irish storm washed away any chance I had of not loving you," I say passionately. "You’re the only man for me. Complications or not, darkness or not... you’ve always been the only man for me, and it’s time you accepted that."

We kiss again, and then I slide into his lap, feeling his manhood push through his pants. We rock together until somebody’s headlights shine into the car.

He gently pushes me aside, trembling. "I can't let anybody else see you getting steamy and excited," he groans. "The mood I'm in, I'm liable to hurt them for daring to look at you when you're like that."

"Is it bad? I like it when you get jealous and protective."

He smooths my hair from my face, cradling my cheek. "No—and you better get used to it."

Twenty-Six

KILLIAN

The next day, I stand in front of the mirror in the walk-in closet, trying to choose between two shirts. My lucky charm is in the en-suite shower. I'm doing my best to keep my hands off her until after the party, which is why I'm not in there with her, but just thinking of the water sliding down her body is enough to make me hard. Last night, when we got home, we devoured each other.

My heart twitches when I think about the love fusing us. Against all odds, she accepts me: the good and the bad, the king and the lover. When I hear her leave the shower, I make a mistake, at least where timekeeping is concerned... I poke my head around the closet door.

My balls ache when I see the towel clinging to her. She looks at me over her shoulder with her wet red hair spilling down her back.

"Are you spying on me? I thought I told you to be good so I could get ready."

"I'm the king. I'm in charge..."

I return to the closet, grab two ties, then walk into the bedroom, my erection pressing against my shorts. Her honey-colored eyes move to my crotch, widening when she sees how hard I am.

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