Page 128 of Toxic

Sean glances at the ceiling, his face hardening. While things have gotten a lot better between Bridget and him, he's kept a chip on his shoulder where Tully is concerned.

"What's your beef with your granddad?" I ask.

Sean's nostrils flare. He continues to avoid looking at me. "Nothing."

"Bullshit."

He meets my gaze. "For once, can you drop it?"

For several moments, I study him. He never flinches, matching my intense stare. I finally decide to let it be for now. "Okay. Don't kill Tristano's gears, or I'll have to pay to replace them."

He snorts. "You know I'm a better driver than that now."

While I have to agree with him, I'm not admitting it. But Sean can drive any car in the garage, including my Porsche, and he'd do it with ease. Just like boxing, he learned how to drive faster than I anticipated. He's got a natural skillset about him, and part of me believes it's the O'Malley in him. However, I can't disregard the O'Connor genes, either. All of Bridget's brothers seemed to learn things quickly when we were kids. They also drive sticks, and we used to have illegal races when we were in high school and all through our early twenties. It was always a crapshoot whether a Marino or O'Connor would win.

"Don't get cocky," I tell Sean and get in the passenger seat.

He slides in, revs the engine, then guns it as soon as we get outside the gate. Within no time, we're sitting in front of Tully's. We get out and go inside, parting ways.

I head toward the library, carefully shutting the door so I don't disturb Bridget. She's reading a book on the couch, curled up in a blanket. The warm feeling in my chest I always get whenever I see her ignites. I sneak up behind her and dip down so my lips touch her ear. "Reading anything hot?"

She slightly jumps, laughing, then turns her head. I steal her lips the moment I can and roll my tongue against hers. She reaches up and caresses the back of my neck, sending a buzz of energy down my spine.

My dick twitches, and I pull back, then walk around the couch and sit next to her. I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. "How are you doing, dolcezza?"

She shuts her book, smiling. She reaches for my cheek. "Okay. Did you have a good day?"

I push all the crap that went on in my day to the back of my head. "Better now that I'm with you." I give her another peck.

She glances at the door.

My stomach flips. "Don't worry. I shut it."

Relief fills her expression.

It only irritates me more. Yet, I push that away, too, focusing on Sean's situation. "I need to talk to you about something."

Her face falls. "You said everything is okay though?"

"Yeah, don't worry."

She smiles again, studying me. "Okay. What is it?"

All day, I debated about how to tell her. I still don't have a clear strategy, so I blurt out, "Sean wants to fight."

Her face hardens, and I realize I was wrong. Sean's stubbornness isn't from his father or any of the O'Malleys. It's from her. I almost chuckle at my realization but don't want to get off track. She declares, "We've discussed this. It's too dangerous. He isn't fighting."

"He's more than ready. If he were in Chicago, he would already be fighting," I add.

She blinks hard. Then anger and fear ignite in her eyes. Blue swirls against the green so fast, it's mesmerizing. She hurls, "But he's not in Chicago, is he? Nor is he to go there!"

"Calm down. I didn't say he was going to Chicago, but—"

"Why are you doing this?" she accuses.

A storm stirs inside me, but I keep my voice steady. "Doing what, exactly?"

"I've told you how I feel about this."

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