Page 22 of Sins and Salvation

I move faster, driving into her with a force that makes the headboard hit the wall. She cries out, the sound muffled against my shoulder.

"Mine," I repeat. "All mine, this pussy, this body. It's mine."

Her pussy tightens, squeezing me as she shudders. She says my name on a breath as she comes. I come inside her, nothing holding me back, burying my face in her neck to muffle my groan.

We collapse on the bed, our bodies pressed together, both of us breathing hard. Her skin is hot against mine, sweat making us stick to each other. Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, gentle in a way that undoes me.

"I still hate how much I want you," she whispers, her voice raw with emotion. "Seven years and my body still betrays me for you."

I turn to face her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Your body knows what you won't admit. You're still mine, Maeve. You always fucking were."

She's quiet for a long moment. "I can't trust you."

"You can."

"How do I know you won't leave again?"

I take her hand, placing it over my heart. "Because this time, I have something to stay for, to fight for."

"You had me before, that didn't make you stay."

"Now I have both of you. And I know what it's like to live without you." I kiss her forehead. "I won't fuck up again."

She rests her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. "Conor needs to know who you are."

"I want to tell him."

She shakes her head. "I should do it. Tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. He might hate you as much as I did."

"Did?"

A small smile touches her lips. "Past tense. For now."

I pull her closer, her body fitting against mine like she never left. Like we didn't lose seven years.

"Get some sleep," I tell her. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

She nods, eyes already closing. I watch her drift off, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Another text from Cormac.

Russians on the move. Be ready.

I glance at Maeve, peaceful in sleep, then at the door that leads to the hallway, to the room where my son dreams.

CHAPTER8

MAEVE

Iwake to an empty bed, the sheets beside me cold. For a moment, I forget where I am, then it all crashes back—the attack, the safe house, Declan.

Declan, who I slept with last night. Who I let back into my body if not my heart.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions. Anger still burns beneath the surface, but a deep relief fills me alongside it. A relief I refuse to name.

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