Page 85 of Her Captor's Secret Heir

He nips my ear and folds me tight into his arms again as he settles between my thighs. “Since when have I ever let you down?”

I take his face in my hands, my eyes misty, my throat full of the love that’s threatening to suffocate me. “Never. Not once. I know you never will.”

I’m nearly bursting with emotion when he leans down and kisses me. Our tongues dance together in a long, wet, deep promise.

It takes considerable work, but I manage to tug his shirt free and unbutton his pants in the minuscule space between us. When I finally get to his warm, smooth skin, I’m already shaking with the need to feel all of him. He helps me take his clothes off but leaves me in the delicate white lace thong panties. “I love the look of these on your skin,” he murmurs against my mouth.

Then, with fluid grace, he pushes my panties aside, and seats the head of his heavy erection against my desperately hungry opening. We sigh together when he slides in, settling deep in my core.

Whatever we’ve done before might have been love making, but the quality of this is so pure and raw that I cry the whole time. Silent tears slowly pinching out of my eyes, wetting my hair, salting our kisses, washing away so many ghosts.

Freedom. This is what freedom to love him feels like.

CHAPTERFORTY-NINE

It’s not until I’m in his arms, when we’re sated, and the buzz in my skin is wearing off that I remember the stinging hurt Patrick Coghlan dealt me in that church.

I sit up abruptly. Sick in my heart.

Voice roughened by sex, Kieran asks, “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“I... uh. I need to rinse off.”

I’m in the shower as quickly as I can be, because I don’t want to ruin Kieran’s wedding day with tears about my old life.

But the glass door clicks open and my man steps inside. There’s a knowing look on his handsome face because he doesn’t just see me, he sees through me. Those hard brows are knotted when he reaches a gentle hand toward my burning face.

Voice tipped low, he says, “Talk to me. This is what we do now. We share everything.”

Closing my eyes, I dip my head back and let the hot stream course over me. He’s waiting. But I’m not sure I can even talk, I’m so hurt.

When he wraps me in one arm and shampoos my hair tenderly, I start to come unglued.

He doesn’t prod. Doesn’t ask again, but as he gently tends to me, I know that he’s here for me. He’ll soothe my hurts and defend me against the world. Just as he’s already done.

When we’re finished, he dries me off, wraps me in a thick, warm towel, then cups my face between both his hands so I can’t get away. “This is about what your father said in that room, isn’t it?”

“You heard what he said?”

“Aye, that’s how we knew he was making a grab for you. We had the room wired.”

I nod in his palms. “It... it was brutal.” My lids drift closed, my teeth pinch my lower lip before I can continue. “I knew I was different. I just knew it. So, it all makes sense. But now there are so many questions. I don’t even know who my real father is.”

He breathes steadily. Warmth and strength from his hands hold me up, keep me together. Then he tells me something that rips through me like a peel of thunder. “I know your real father. I just found out this morning that it’s a man I’ve known for years. An Irishman. Max uncovered his identity as he was getting ready for the raid.”

“Oh. God.” Weak-kneed, I lean into him and grip his hands. “Is he in the Mafia?”

“He was, but he got out somehow. He’s now a cop. Bout near retirement. Max knows him too. He’s a good man.”

“I need to sit down.”

He scoops me off my feet and carries me to the bed where he settles me in his lap as he leans against the headboard. Soft words wrap around me. “It’s a lot, I know. But don’t think you have to do anything about it. When and if you’re ever ready, we’ll go together.”

I lean into his chest, press my hand over his heart, and just let myself process everything that comes with finding out Patrick isn’t my father. The hurt. All the ugly pain. The relief.

The blood in my veins might not be from a monster after all. A weight that’s been saddled around my shoulders for my entire life starts to lift.

Somehow, I fall asleep curled there, and when I wake up, it’s a fresh new day.

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