Page 18 of Ignite

As planned, I wrap my legs around his waist, arms tight around his neck, and he kisses me. Ferociously. Like he needs me to survive.

We move down the hallway, fumbling with the living room door. Our mouths never part.

“Fuck, Hallie. I need to be inside you.” His deep Irish accent drenches my panties.

My eyes fly open—he winks, bites my bottom lip, then crashes his mouth back to mine.

I moan. Loud. Grinding against him, completely lost.

And it’s not fake. Not even close.

My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him deeper just as he pins me to the wall.

“You taste so sweet, baby.”

“Hallie! What the fuck?!”

Ben’s voice rips through the air.

Conan grins against my lips. “Showtime, trouble.”

My pulse spikes. Rage simmers beneath my skin.

“Don’t let go of me.”

He holds tight. Steady. And over his shoulder, I come face-to-face with Ben, flushed, naked, holding my fucking cushion over his limp dick.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I seethe.

Ben shakes his head, hand dragging through his black hair.

Bertie barrels in from the kitchen, barking, teeth bared.

“It’s okay, boy,” I say softly, and he plants himself at my side, solid and loyal.

“You’re cheating on me?” Ben’s voice cracks.

I choke on a laugh.

“Are you fucking serious? You just pulled your cock out of her ten seconds ago.” I point to the blonde, who’s now cupping her tits like it’ll save her from the shame of being caught.

“Get out. Both of you. And I’ll send you an invoice for a new couch, you sick bastard.”

Conan squeezes my ass. I jolt in his arms.

“Can I?” he murmurs.

I have no clue what he means, but I nod.

He sets me down, steps forward, and scoops up the pile of clothes draped over the couch.

Ben’s face drains of color.

“Fuck off,” Conan growls, pointing to the door.

Ben steps toward us, puffed up like he might actually try something.

Conan laughs menacingly.

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