Page 108 of Broken Blood Ties

“Mmhmm?” I respond, pressing my palms behind me on the wall like I could teleport through it.

“I’m going to kiss ye now.”

My eyes widen as they meet his, finding the pupils blown out. Between the subdued lighting and his nearness, shadows fall over his face as his mouth descends downward.

“But I annoy you.” It’s another whisper, barely audible, but he stops, mouth millimeters from mine.

“Aye. Never change.”

His lips collide with mine, and I’m swept away, the impact nearly wrecking me. His mouth is warm and tentative at first, but he slides up closer, pressing into me, both gentle and possessive. All I can do is hang on as his tongue delves and tangles deliciously with mine. The roughness of his stubble anchors me, and I relish the unrefined feel of it against my skin.

I gasp as he breathes in a groan, hungry and needing, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. One hand on my back, he ushers me into him, compelling me to seek more of his raw touch. His other hand clings to my cheek, fingers trailing down along my jaw while his thumb brushes over the subtle contours of my temple. It’s almost as if he’s sculpting, kneading the gentle slopes and arches of my face so that they fit seamlessly into the palm of his hand.

He feels good. Jeez, he feelssogood.

My legs shake and I’m afraid they might literally turn into jelly, so I reach up to fist his shirt. Everything about his kiss is electrifying, each stroke of his tongue measured.

The rough pads of his fingertips create tingles along my jawline as he feathers his touch there before possessively cupping my face to angle me for better access.

Breathless, I tear my mouth from his to suck in a breath. He drops his hands, but presses his forehead to mine, my name shuddering on his lips.

I get a good look at his heavy-laden expression that drags down my now-open robe, and he curls a finger underneath the hem of my silk camisole. Licking my lips, I drop my head back against the wall as he teases the fabric between his fingers. Every other stroke skimming my stomach creates goose bumps in their wake.

I tremble with need, moving to seek his mouth again and barely register the creak of an opening door.

“Daddy?”

Aoife’s voice douses the throbbing, and I shove Kieran back so hard he lets out a grunt. His expression widens as he turns to see Aoife’s head peeking around the door seeking him out. Quickly, I tug my robe closed.

“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” She scurries into the room, diving for him as he kneels down to her height to wrap her in a hug.

“There now, little love,” he says. “What was yer dream about?”

She pulls back, eyes darting to me and then back to her father.

I smile, and wanting to give them both space, say, “I’m going to head back to bed. Good night, Aoife. Kieran.”

Aoife grins at me sleepily while Kieran bites his lower lip shaking his head.

After giving Aoife’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, I slip out of the office, booking it upstairs faster than my legs can carry me and almost face-plant on the top step. Once back in my room, I fly into the bathroom, turning on the sink and letting the water pool in my palms before splashing my face.

Goodness. What am I doing?What are you doing, Summer?

His mouth on mine, his hands … I’m not sure what would’ve happened had Aoife not wandered down. I didn’t want him to stop.

Shame prickles behind my eyelids. I like him more than I want to admit, and I’m attracted to him more than I can describe. Could this actually turn into something? Having run away from New York and nearly from Boston, he likely sees me as flighty.

I sigh, turning out the bathroom light and climbing back into bed. The overheating from earlier is nothing compared to the inferno my body is now. As I toss and turn, I tell myself that was not the normal interaction I’d been hoping for.

Chapter33

Kieran

Ispin the lacquered pen I stole from Luka across my desk, avoiding my paperwork. The gold-trimmed clip has his import business logo on it, and I huff out a laugh. It’s become a habit of mine—taking something from Luka’s office when I visit. His office is cold and too perfect, so I like to add chaos to his life.

I inspect the dying plant in the corner of the room. Edges brittle and curling, the leaves look dreadful, and because I’m in the habit of avoiding work today, I leave my office to hunt down a water bottle.

Lizzy keeps a bunch behind the bar, and I comb the dusty shelves, searching. It’s early still. Most of the staff and even most of my men don’t come in until the afternoon on Mondays. I stand, having grabbed two bottles—poor plant probably needs a vein tapped with water or something.

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