Page 37 of Shared

“Uh…um…yeah,” I stammer, caught off guard. His bright blue eyes—full of vibrance and life again—don’t leave mine as he crosses the room slowly, lightly holding his side to ease the pain with every heavy step he takes.

I struggle to maintain his gaze as he reaches me. Pausing briefly next to me, he towers over me and whispers, “Thank you,cailín leanbh.” I follow him toward the room the three of us are sharing.I can’t even call itourroom right now.He pads into the attached bathroom while I gather clean dressings from the overly-organized container that Vic is storing them in at the foot of the bed. Hearing the water turn on, I take my time finding the extra-large gauge and medical tape. I struggle to hold it in my arms while digging through the dresser for fresh boxers and sweatpants for him—figuring he needs a few more minutes to finish showering before he’s ready for me. The privacy same I would for any patient.

Stepping into the threshold of the doorway, I stop in my tracks and a near-silent gasp blows over my lips. Conor is naked, his head hanging toward the bandages and his palms on the counter, naturally flexing every muscle in his thick arms. Theposition is doing the same for his well-defined back.And it definitely it isn’t hurting his tight backside, either.

Not noticing my entry, he stares deeply into his reflection as he works to pull the bandages from his chest and side. His brows furrow, and he clenches his jaw from the discomfort. Peeling the soiled gauze away, he reveals the still-fresh wounds.Jesus… How did he survive this?My hands trembling slightly, I move toward him, and his eyes meet mine in the mirror. From the way he looks at me—with a longing intensity—I suddenly feel unsteady on my feet.

He turns to face me, and my breath catches in my throat as my eyes fall to his wounds. “God… Conor…” My heart suddenly aches over how close we truly came to losing him.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he grabs my hand. He pulls it toward him and gingerly presses it to the wounds from the bullets he took. My fingers shake, and I can’t help but be acutely aware of every breath he takes. How his body stiffens as he glides my fingertips over the red, raised tissue. “I’m still here,cailín leanbh.”

I bite my lip, trying desperately to hold it together.

“I’m still here,” he repeats, sliding my hand over the steady thump of his heart. He dips his head and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft and hesitant as we reacquaint ourselves with each other. All my doubts and hesitations disappear, and for the first time in days, I remember whatwefeel like.

Conor’s strong hands find my waist, pulling me into his as our kiss deepens. His tongue plunders my mouth, desperate and urgent. Frantic. He dips his hands beneath my shirt, slowly dragging it up my body as his hands roughly slide up my spine.The shirt pulling over my head forces us to break our kiss, and I breathlessly mutter, “You’re still here.”

Haphazardly dropping my shirt to the floor, his eyes don’t leave mine as he undoes the bow of my baggy sweatpants, and they drop to the floor. “Still here.” His words vibrate against my lips as he leads me backward toward the shower.

CHAPTER FORTY

ELENA

The warm water cascades over us when Conor pulls us under the spray. Even through the trickling water, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. He runs his hands over my shoulders, and a delighted shiver prickles over my skin.

Conor’s fingers trace the curve of my arm, moving with a soft, deliberate touch. Sliding his hand across my back, he pulls me tight to him, which draws a soft whimper from me. His lips dust across my forehead, and he whispers, “I’m still here. I’m very much alive.”

Gripping my thighs, he winces as he hoists me around his waist and drives my back into the icy tile of the shower surround. “Con…” I cup his face, concerned I’m going to cause him to hurt himself.

“I’m okay,” he insists. “You need this. You need to feel me… to know that I’m here,cailín leanbh.”He crashes his lips against mine, not giving me a chance to argue. Reaching between us, he aligns himself with my entrance and slowly eases into me. Buried to hilt—leaving me full and more connected to him thanever—he promises, “I’m never leaving you. I love you far too much to ever hurt you like that.”

“I love you,” I choke out on an exhale as Conor gyrates his hips. Pinned against the wall, my body fits against his like we’re one, and he claims me like never before. He isn’t rough or demanding. It’s not rushed or urgent. He doesn’t fuck me. His hands slide over my skin like he’s savoring me with every touch.

The heat from the water fills the shower with steam, and it envelopes the two of us as Conor leisurely thrusts into me. Every inch of him feels so fucking good. He palms my ass as his lips trail down my neck. “I can feel you quivering around my cock.” He peppers the words up and down my neck. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes,” I moan, teetering on the edge, mere thrusts away from losing myself in him.

He groans against my neck, and I swear I can feel the vibrations against my clit. “Come for me. Squeeze that tight pussy around my cock”—his hands slide to my quads as he thrusts—“and these thick fucking thighs around my waist.”

I give him exactly what he’s demanding. My back arches from the icy tiles, forcing him deeper. I cry out in pleasure, clenching around him and raking my nails down his back as sheer bliss shoots through me. He picks up his pace, pulling a string of whimpers from me when my orgasm hits.

“I fucking love the sweet sounds you make when you come.” Keeping his pace and taking me with long languid strokes, he licks up the length of my neck. “Was that what you needed? Or do you need me to fuck you until scream to make you realize I’m still here?”

I hesitate, caught between how much I like the tender way his cock is sliding in and out of me and wanting him to own me the way I know he can.

Abruptly pulling from me, he drives the entirety of himself into me with such force that he bottoms out against my cervix. I cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He does it again, and I bite my lower lip through my grunt. Conor’s eyes roam over my face, watching my reaction to his brutal thrusts. “Dirty fucking girl. You like it hard and fast, don’t you?”

I struggle to form a single word to answer him—yes—and he slows his hips to a teasing pace. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want. Tell me how to make you scream.”

“Fuck me,” I breathlessly plead, my tone laced with a ravenous need. “Like you own me… Until you fill me.”

“I’ll fuck you”—he slams into me—“I’ll always fuck you and give you everything else that you need. Because you’remine.” He holds true to his word. My back slides up and down the smooth tiles as he repeatedly impales me on his thick length, the piercing through the tip dragging along all the right places.

I grunt and shriek through every brutal thrust, my hands clawing at his shoulders as he sloppily kisses and sucks at my neck. His jaw ticks as he fights against the pain in his side. It clenches and he hisses through his teeth, “Fuck… this pussy feels so fucking good. My pussy.”

Every thrust hurts him, yet it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he takes me harder. He sinks his teeth into the crook of my neck, and I whimper against his ear, “Yours.” I come again, screaming his name. Satiated, but needily wanting more. “Fill it… fill me… until I’m so full… that you’re dripping… down my thighs.”

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