Page 38 of Illicit Heir

And maybe that's part of why I can't get Lauren out of my mind. It's just too damn easy in Belfast. In New York, I had to work harder for women. When I first arrived here, I embraced these women, but now, it's too easy.

Last night, I had to work to get into Lauren's bed. There was a challenge to it. She made me work all my angles.

Something tells me that even if there was a chance for us, she'd always have some sort of defiance for me. She would always make it interesting in some way.

I scold myself again.

I have to stop thinking about this bird.

She's just another lass with a pussy between her thighs, and there's plenty of those in the sea.

I drink some more Guinness, and Chloe shoves a plate of steaming food in front of me. She gives me another coy smile and practically sings, "Bangers and mash at your service."

"Thanks," I mutter and focus on my food, eating faster than I should and downing the rest of the pint.

I don't have to ask for another. Chloe sets it in front of me, then inquires, "Where did ya go last night? Ya left pretty early and in a hurry."

"None of your business," I reply, harsher than I mean for it to come out, but I don't apologize, even when hurt lights up her expression.

Tense silence fills the air, and she lifts her chin and replies, "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

I lock eyes with her, become a bigger dick, and state, "Then ya shouldn't have asked."

Her cheeks heat from embarrassment. She adds an additional "Sorry," and then scurries off.

Happy I got her out of my way, I finish the food and the rest of the pint. Then I look around the pub. There are only a few blokes in it, and the two drunk women who are always here. They're way too old for me, and I find nothing attractive about them, even though plenty of blokes do. Yet I wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole if they were the last women on Earth.

I quickly divert my gaze from everyone, not wanting anyone to approach or talk to me, and stare at the wooden counter. All I can see is Lauren. Her thighs, round ass, and those blue eyes. And remember how she held on to me. I can almost feel her shuddering, making me feel like I was hers.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I reprimand myself again for the trip down memory lane. Then I get up, toss cash on the bar, and leave the pub. I walk around Belfast for hours, wondering again how I'll ever get used to this place or if I'll ever stop missing New York. And I wish that my dad or Brody would send me back.

But I know it won't happen. Dad insists that the four of us stay in Belfast and keep Ireland moving in the right direction. And with the headway we've been making, I can't say I blame him.

Things are stable in New York, but not here. Although, they've gotten a lot more so since we killed Tommy and started taking over more of the O'Leary territory.

"Fucking O'Learys. They're such a pain in my ass," I grumble.

As much as I wanted to quench my thirst for having an O'Leary, now that I've had Lauren, I realize how bad of an idea it was to dip my wick where I shouldn't have.

And I can't stop asking myself questions that will never have answers, like why did she have to have a defiant little attitude I adore? Or why couldn't she have sucked in bed? Or why couldn't we have had no chemistry? That would have made all this easier.

Now I'm just thinking about her like a stupid schoolboy in love, puppy dog eyes and all.

"Goddammit!" I bark and kick a can down the road.

It scares a homeless man trying to stay warm against a building. He cowers, putting his hands over his head to protect himself.

I reach into my pocket, pull out all my remaining cash, and toss it at him. "Sorry, mate. I'm just having a bad day."

He peeks through his fingers but doesn't move.

I walk past him and continue roaming the streets until the sun sets and the darkness of night fills the sky.

I return to my flat, and when I step inside, my phone vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket and stare at an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Why would ya do that to me? What was the purpose?

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