Page 104 of Dirty Eoin

And he’s my mobster.

For now.

I walk past and step inside. I expected his home to be cool and clinical, with everything immaculate and perfectly positioned. It’s quite the opposite. The open-plan living space is calm and relaxing in warm shades of creams and browns and with throws and cushions scattered welcomingly around to encourage you to make yourself right at home.

It’s an inviting space.

I pause, frowning inwardly.

There’s so much about him that I don’t know. That I want to know.

But that I never will know.

I’m wearing a tank top and combats. Nothing underneath. I pull the tank over my head and kick off my high tops. The only clothing that remains between us is his sweats and my combats.

“Fuck me.”

His nostrils flare and his eyes darken as he immediately picks me up bridal style.

“Not your bedroom.”

He frowns down at me as he walks.

“You’re not fucking me in the same bed you fucked her in.”

I’m jealous that he fucked her and that she had access to something that’s mine, even if only temporarily.

He smirks, his conceited self no doubt savoring my possessive tone.

“Do you want me to throw the bed on the bonfire and get a new one?”

“That’s exactly what I want. You’re mine.”

He kicks open a door. A bedroom. Is it a guest one? He throws me on top of the bed then stands back with his hands slung low on his hips.

It’s obviously because he wants me to admire him some more. He knows he looks good. I lick my lips. I want to lick his body.

Every. Perfect. Fucking. Inch.

“I’m yours. Is that right, Jaine?” A cocky smile plays on his lips.

I rest on my elbows as I stare up at him with one eyebrow raised. “That’s exactly right. I have a marriage license that says just that. So, why don’t you quit standing there staring and help yourself to those conjugal rights of yours?”

I’ve pressed the button. With a low growl, he leans forward and his scent washes over me. Spicy cologne mixed with his personal take on dark and dangerous.

I want to inhale it exaggeratedly.

Bottle it, keep it, and never forget it.

But I will.

Strong hands grip my waist as he drags me down the bed towards him.

“Going by your mouthy demands, I’m guessing you’ve missed my cock, Mrs. O’Connell. Am I right?”

I nod, now too breathless to speak.

“And I’m also guessing that you’ve missed my fingers marking that pretty little neck of yours.”

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