Page 55 of His Temptation

A shiver ran down her spine.

Daragh dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her flush against him. “You think I want to change you? That I want you to be something you’re not?” His voice was quiet but firm, as if he was daring her to deny the truth. “You are mine, Siobhan. Not because I forced you, not because I took you from Wolfe, but because you chose me.”

Her throat tightened. “I never had a choice.”

Daragh’s fingers dug into her hips, his control barely leashed. “Then run.”

She froze.

Daragh stepped back, his grip loosening, giving her space she didn’t want. “Run, kitten,” he murmured. “If you truly don’t want this—don’t want me—walk out that door, and I won’t stop you.”

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, her breath coming too fast, too uneven. She couldn’t move.

Because the truth was staring her in the face, glaringly obvious in the way her body leaned toward him, in the way her soul ached to stay.

Daragh’s lips curled—not in amusement, not in arrogance, but in understanding. “That’s what I thought.”

A ragged breath escaped her. “Damn you.”

Daragh’s hands were back on her before she could say another word, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that stole the very air from her lungs. It was fire and possession, a claiming as deep as the mark on her neck.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her body melting against his as she surrendered to the inevitable.

She wasn’t running. Not now. Not ever. She was his. And it was about time she admitted it—not only to him, but to herself.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words, but Siobhan didn’t need them—not when Daragh’s touch was enough to set her blood on fire, to strip her down to something bare, something real.

Her breath hitched as he ran his hands down her arms, tracing every inch of her like he was memorizing her all over again. She should have been afraid. Should have questioned what it meant to truly belong to someone. But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t questioning anything.

Because it wasn’t just possession… it wasn’t just the bond… it was love.

She had fought against it, clawed at the edges of it, pretended it wasn’t real. That it was lust, or control, or simply the consequence of a claiming bond that neither of them had been able to resist. But that had been a lie.

She did have a choice. She always had. And she was choosing him.

Daragh’s grip tightened as if he could feel her decision, as if the knowledge of it burned through his soul the same way it burned through hers. His jaw was taut, his eyes dark with something deeper than hunger. “Say it, kitten.”

Her lips parted, the words caught in her throat.

Daragh didn’t wait. His fingers threaded through her hair, tipping her chin up, his voice low and edged with something almost vulnerable. “Say it, Siobhan.”

A tremor went through her, but it wasn’t fear. It was certainty.

“I love you.”

Daragh’s entire body went still. She had never seen him look shaken before, seen nothing but complete control, but right now, he wasn’t the enforcer, wasn’t the killer who had painted Dublin in blood for her. He was just hers.

“Your turn,” she said, staring at him with a blatant challenge. He was silent too long, and she kicked him in the shins, making him growl. “Say it.”

He shook his head, smiling at her. “I love you.” His throat worked as he studied her, something unspoken passing between them. “Now, you say it again.”

Siobhan’s fingers curled into his shirt, her heart hammering as she whispered, “I love you, Daragh O’Neill.”

His control seemed to shatter. The next second, she was in his arms, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss so deep, so consuming, it sent her reeling. His hands were everywhere—gripping her hips, dragging her against him, branding her with every touch, every stroke of his tongue.

A possessive growl rumbled from his chest as he backed her toward the bed, his body pressing her down into the mattress, covering her, surrounding her. “You’re mine, Siobhan.”

She gasped as his teeth scraped along her jaw, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on her tunic. “Yes.”

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