Page 13 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

“Jesus, you scared the fuck out of me.” I whirl around to find him in nothing more than silky black boxers.

Oh my fucking god. It’s just not fair. My mouth is watering at how his body is utter perfection. He’s like something out of an air-brushed beefcake calendar. Except he’s real. He has tattoos on his arms and his chest I can see through the thick black hair across his chest. The hair also doesn’t hide how taut his honey skin is stretched over muscle and sinew?—

“Miranda, if you keep eating me up with your eyes. I’m going to take it as permission to bend you over the island and fuck you until neither one of us can move.” The words are soft. His body isn’t—oh god, the boxers are tenting as I watch.

I whip around, not caring about how unsafe it is to turn my back on him. “I’m hungry.” I force the words out of my tight throat.

“I’ll make you something. Sit.”

My weak knees take me to the nook in the corner of the room, where a smaller table and four chairs are. I sit heavily, unwilling to look his way.

Except I’m not able to keep my eyes from finding him, curious about him making me something to eat. Michael wouldn’t even make me a glass of water. As far as Michael was concerned, I was there to serve him.

Declan moves around the kitchen easily. Cutting cheese and chicken and slicing a thick loaf of homemade bread. He adds it, along with some cherry tomatoes and red grapes, to a plate before bringing it to me.

He sets it on the table. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine. Thanks.” I murmur. “The cheese is so good. What kind is this?”

“Irish white cheddar. It’s got a bit of a bite to it, but it’s a favorite of mine.” This time he leaves the sparkling water in the bottle, handing it to me. For a moment, he doesn’t let go of the bottle.

I lift my eyes to him without thinking. “What?”

One side of his beautiful mouth tips up. “You’re welcome.”

This asshole. “Thank you for making me something to eat. It’s so nice when kidnappers don’t lock their victims in rooms with only bread and water to drink.”

Throwing back his head, he laughs. God, I hate him so fucking much. It would be better if I hated him as much as I want to though. “Ah, Miranda, look at it as one of those vacations you take. Instead of traveling, you sit at home and enjoy being waited on.”

“How the hell do you know so much about me?” I demand, remembering the file he mentioned.

“Knowledge is power. Even more than money at times. Combine the two and…” he lifts a broad shoulder. “I have a contact with amazing hackers able to infiltrate the most secure servers in the world.”

“That’s gross. People picking over an innocent person’s life.” It gives me the creeps.

A nod of concession. “He is never happy about digging into innocents. Valdez has a hard honor code. If he thought you would come to harm, he would have stepped in and protected you from me. As I said before, all I need is the audit complete to find who is stealing. It’s unfortunate for the both of us that the moment I saw you, I wanted you something fierce.”

“Excuse me?” I’m not hurt he makes it sound like a bad thing for him. He gets to come and go as he pleases. I’m the one who can’t leave and doesn’t want to get involved with him. “How the hell is it a bad thing for you? Oh, let me guess, I’m not your normal type who doesn’t just roll over and beg?—”

His hand is around my throat, cutting off my words and bringing me up to him. I blink, and his mouth comes crashing down on mine.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

An explosion with the strength of an atomic bomb destroys everything that came before this moment. It’s what he told me an orgasm could be—every cell in my body explodes, consumed completely and utterly in the fire, then slowly building me back together.

It starts as angry and commanding as the hand around my throat. I taste the coolness of mint and the burn of passion. A heady, intoxicating mix shooting into my veins, turning my blood hot and sticky. Turning me into an addict for more, for all of this.

Yes, I was a virgin before I met and married Michael. But I’ve kissed other men before.

This is no kiss. It’s no simple tasting and twisting of tongues. This is a mating of souls. A dragging down to the most basic of instinct—a ferocious need to mark each other.

I cling to him, desperately needing to hang onto something to keep from being swept away. He gentles and all I want to do is crawl into his skin so that there’s nothing between us.

An angry howl comes from nowhere, followed by a hiss scaring the shit out of me. Declan groans as he lifts his head. Blue is glowing with heat burning into my soul.

“Emeralds.” It’s more of a whisper to himself than anything. I don’t understand.

Another screech and I find the source. A large, smoky gray cat is staring me down with angry, eerie green eyes.

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