Page 29 of Conall's Reign

“Am I?” I scooted closer. She let out a squeak of alarm as she rolled over, discovering me already in her space. “I don’t think you know the half of it,” I murmured, my voice low, as my lips hovered close to hers without touching. Teasing her was simply too easy. Francesca’s eyes narrowed, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing pink as she attempted to scoot back. The issue was that she had already backed herself to the edge of the bed.

“Personal space, O’Kelly,” she warned, though her tone lacked conviction. “I may have agreed to share the same bed, but I didn’t consent to anything beyond that.”

“Personal space is overrated,” I countered, grinning as I propped myself on one elbow, moving closer to her. Her body practically trembled with tension, and I knew it wasn’t just nerves. I’d seen how she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Francesca wanted to hate me but was drawn in nonetheless, like a moth to a flame. I had counted the times she looked at my mouth while I spoke—sixteen times today alone.

I’ll bet if I dipped my fingers into her panties, I’d find her dripping wet.

Her fingers curled into the duvet, clutching it like a lifeline, as if it were her personal anchor. “You’re seriously the worst. You know that?”

“Funny, it didn’t seem like you thought that earlier when you let me kiss you,” I said, my grin widening as her blush deepened.

“That was a mistake,” she snapped, her voice now pitched higher. “Heat of the moment. Poor judgment.”

“Was it, though?” I tilted my head and studied her. “Because if I remember correctly, you didn’t exactly push me away.”

Her lips parted to retort, but I didn’t give her the chance. Closing the small gap between us, I brushed my mouth against hers, light and teasing. Her sharp inhale was the only confirmation I needed.

She froze, but only for a second. Then, as if something inside her had cracked, Francesca’s hands released the duvet and reached for my shoulders, yanking me closer and kissing me back with a ferocity I hadn’t expected.

Her control slipped, revealing the honest Francesca—the one who burned hot and never backed down. My hand slid to her waist, pulling her against me, and I felt her melt, even as she made a muffled noise of protest.

“You—” she began to speak, pulling back slightly, but I silenced her with another kiss, one that was slower and deeper.

“You talk too much,” I murmured against her lips, smiling as she made an annoyed sound.

“And you don’t talk enough,” she shot back, her tone sharp, yet she didn’t pull away this time. Her words were muffled against my mouth.

I laughed, low and raspy even to my ears, as I nuzzled her neck, letting my lips trail down her jaw. “I think you enjoy that about me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Conall,” she said, though her words lacked their usual sting as her hands slid to tangle behind my neck.“I wouldn’t mind having some conversation.”

“Too late,” I replied, and before she could argue, I tugged the duvet out of her grip and cocooned her against me.Savoring the skin-to-skin contact.

For a moment, she didn’t resist, leaning into me, her breathing unsteady. Then, just as I thought she might let her guard down completely, she pulled back, her expression guarded once again.I wouldn’t allow her to pull away. A host of thoughts I’d buried surrounded this woman, and now that she was in my grasp, there was no way I’d let her go.

“Don’t assume this means anything,” she said, her voice soft yet firm.

“Whatever you say,” I said lightly, yet I didn’t let her go. Instead, I pressed my forehead against hers, my hand sliding up to cup her face.

She glared at me, but her fingers curled into my skin again, betraying her. Francesca was a fighter through and through, but this was one battle she wouldn’t win.

Her glare deepened, yet I noticed the crack in her armor, the hesitation in her defiance. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, her voice tinged with frustration, though she didn’t pull away.

“And you’re stubborn,” I replied, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “But we both know how this will end, Francesca.”

She blinked, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words emerged. Instead, she merely stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she grappled with the arguments swirling within her.

“I hate you,” she finally said, her voice trembling yet strong enough to make me smile.

“No, you don’t,” I replied, lowering my voice to a near growl. “You may wish you did, but you don’t.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could feel the heat radiating from her as she bristled. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“No,” I said, leaning in so our noses were almost touching.

That was it. The dam broke. Francesca surged forward, her lips colliding with mine with such force that it jolted me. She kissed me as if she were making a point, as if she were trying to regain the upper hand.

I shifted, rolling us until she was pinned beneath me, her hands trapped between us. She let out a startled gasp, breaking the kiss. I dipped my head, letting my lips trail down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Giving into the moment, I rocked against the apex of her thighs, indulging in the moan that she gave.

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