Page 185 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

I groan my approval as my hands tangle in his hair, my hips instinctively rising off the surface.

Wanting more. Needing more. Needing him.

I want him to fuck me. He knows I do, but we both know we won’t go there.

I break our kiss, and he growls in warning when I bite down hard on his neck. It’s a throaty sound that threatens domination. It’s a feral sound that promises control. Does he not know that I’d already do anything for him?

“Look at us, Jaine.” He runs his nose slowly up mine, his voice soft and sensual. I turn my head and stare at us in the full-length mirror.

“We look so fucking perfect together.”

He’s right. We do.

His lips find mine once more. I feel it—the connection. I’ve always known that Irish is my soul mate. I’ve never once doubted it. I want him to tell me that he loves me because the more I think I heard it at the church, the more convinced I am that I didn’t.

How can we have a future if he doesn’t love me?

CHAPTERSIXTY-ONE

PADRAIG

The Hudson Dusters’ HQ, Manhattan, New York

Jaineand I almost fucked yesterday. She fucked my brother the day before. What happens now?

It’s the first meeting we’ll all have attended since the fire at the church.

Has she been with him since yesterday? I have no idea. It’s none of my business. She and I aren’t an item, but then neither are they. If they were officially back together, we’d all have heard about it by now. My wife is dead. She’s currently being turned into human soup, which is no more than she deserves. I’m a widower.

All three of us are single.

I gave him my blessing, though. What sort of a low-life brother does that make me that I would still then pursue the love of his life?

She was the love of mine first.

He stares at me across the meeting room table. His neck is bruised like mine. Everyone present will know the female responsible for his claiming was Jaine. For mine, they may well think the same thing.

They suspect. He knows.

If he’s in any shadow of a doubt, he’ll realize the moment she enters the room.

We hear her arrive. We then hear the mumble of conversation as she talks with Candice.

The door opens moments later, and her eyes connect with mine. She’s wearing a navy pantsuit which perfectly flatters her straight-up-and-down shape. I thought she may have worn a complementary scarf today, but she hasn’t. She’s hiding nothing.

Her lips curve upwards as my gaze drops to her throat. It’s a movement that’s barely noticeable, but I saw it.

She stands while everyone inspects her to see if she’s any worse for wear after being buried alive before being dug dead from the ground.

Everyone knows what she did. That she entered a situation there was no coming back from. At the time, it suited her just fine because she didn’t want to come back.

In the end, her working in cahoots with Nathan Hawke saw a trafficking ring halted, a rogue MC in Nevada brought to its knees, my traitorous wife’s life terminated, and my brother-in-law sent down. Countless members of his nameless organization and their Colombian sidekicks are also now behind bars.

All of that, thanks to Jaine.

Once Luc is dead, which I’m sure won’t be too long given the plethora of enemies he has on the inside, the Ruocco estate will pass to me as the only surviving family member. When that happens, it would be my intention to pass it straight to Finian and JJ. I have enough personal wealth. I don’t need any more.

Dare I hope for any more offspring when I’d only ever want them with her?

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