Page 30 of Legacy Of Ashes
"Disgusted?" His laugh turns rough. "Princess, you nearly brought me to my knees. Eighteen years old in that little white dress, braless, your nipples hard from the cold air."
My breath catches. I hadn't realized he'd noticed.
"I wanted to push you against that garden wall and rip that dress off you," he continues, voice growing raw with need despite his injury. "Wanted to bury my face between your thighs and make you come until you couldn't stand. Then fuck you against the stone until you knew who you belonged to."
"I wouldn't have said no," I whisper, my voice thick with arousal.
"I know. That's what made it so fucking hard to walk away. You would have let me claim you right there, wouldn't you?"
"Yes." The admission falls from my lips without shame. "I've wanted you since I was old enough to understand what wanting meant."
His hand slides from my hip to cup my ass, squeezing possessively. "And now?"
"Now I'm going to climb on top of you the second you're healed and ride you until we both forget our own names."
He groans, his cock jerking against his pants at my crude promise. "Fucking hell, Saoirse. The things I'm going to do to you."
The office door bursts open. Cillian rushes in with security, weapons drawn. He stops short at the sight of us—me straddling Conall's hips while pressing bloody silk to his shoulder, his hand gripping my ass, both of us breathing hard despite the crisis.
"Medic," Cillian barks, his face carefully blank at our compromising position. "Now."
Dr. Moran appears, but I don't move from Conall's body. Can't move. The adrenaline and arousal make everything sharper—his scent, his heat, the way his fingers dig into my flesh like he never wants to let me go.
"He saved my life," I tell my brother, not caring that my torn blouse reveals my lace bra or that Conall's hand still grips my ass possessively.
"He always will," Cillian replies grimly.
As the doctor works on Conall's shoulder, I study the man who's owned my heart and body since childhood, even if he's never claimed either. Blood loss has carved new lines around his eyes, but his gaze burns into me. Promising. Threatening. Mine.
"The sniper?" I ask.
"Dead," Eamon announces from the doorway, carefully not looking at Conall's hand on my ass. "Roof across the street."
Three professionals. A coordinated assault while father lies helpless upstairs. Someone wants me eliminated.
"Who knew my schedule?" I demand.
Cillian's face darkens. "We'll find out."
Conall grips my thigh as they prepare to move him, his thumb stroking dangerously close to the edge of my panties. "Don't trust anyone. Not until we know who's behind this."
"I won't." I lean down, my lips brushing his ear. "Just focus on healing so you can finish what you started. I'll be waiting in my bed. Naked."
His eyes flare with dark promise despite the pain medication Dr. Moran administered. "Count on it, princess. I'm going to ruin you for any other man."
"I'm already ruined," I whisper back. "Have been since I was eighteen and you kissed me like you wanted to devour me whole."
They wheel him toward the medical wing while I stand in the ruins of father's office. My blouse hangs open, revealing the lace bra beneath. Blood stains my skirt. My panties are soaked with arousal. But I'm alive.
And Conall Devlin just promised to claim me the moment he heals.
"Saoirse." Cillian approaches carefully, noting my disheveled state. "You handled yourself well."
I look at the weapon still gripped in my hand, then at the blood on carpet where he fell protecting me. Where he confessed wanting to fuck me against a garden wall since I turned eighteen.
"He trained me well," I say, adjusting my torn blouse with shaking hands. "For everything."
"I can see that." Cillian's tone stays carefully neutral. "Perhaps you should shower and rest. It's been a long night."
