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TWENTY-FIVE

GRáINNE

The second we’re in his room, he’s on me, his lips hot and heavy against mine, his hands gently skimming along my body. I melt into his embrace, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer.

His touch sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire deep within me. It’s been a while since we’ve been this close, and God, I’ve missed it. We stumble backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed. He breaks the kiss, his dark eyes burning with desire as they lock onto mine. For a moment, we're both breathless, chests heaving. Then he's lowering me onto the mattress, his body covering mine as his lips find my neck.

I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. His hands slide under my shirt, calloused fingers tracing patterns on my skin. I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin against mine. He pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head before capturing my lips again in a searing kiss that leaves me dizzy and wanting more.

My hands roam over his now-exposed chest, relishing the feeling of taut muscle beneath my fingertips. He groans into my mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through me. His fingers fumble with the buttons of my blouse, his usual control lost in his eagerness. I can't help but smile against his lips, amused by his impatience.

Finally, he manages to undo the last button, pushing the fabric aside. His mouth leaves mine to trail kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, lower still. I gasp as his lips brush against the swell of my breast, my back arching off the bed. His hands slide around to my back, quickly unhooking my bra.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of me.

I pull him back down to me, craving the feel of his skin against mine. Our kisses grow more urgent, hands exploring one another with need.

His fingers ghost along my sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They pause at the waistband of my jeans, a silent question in their hesitation. I nod, breathless with anticipation. He smiles, a mixture of tenderness and hunger in his eyes as he slowly, torturously, begins to undo the button.

He’s so gentle as he touches me, and I know it’s so he doesn’t hurt me. My injuries are still fresh, but I need Connor right now. I need him so much it hurts.

“Grá,” he growls as he lowers his mouth on mine once again.

Connor's fingers work deftly, sliding my jeans down my legs. His touch is feather-light over my bruises, a stark contrast to the intensity of his kisses. I wince slightly as he presses a kiss against my bandage where I was stabbed, and he immediately pulls back, concern clouding his features.

"Are you alright, Sunshine? We can stop if?—"

I silence him with a kiss, pouring all my need into it. "Don't you dare stop," I breathe against his lips.

He hesitates for just a moment before nodding, his eyes dark with barely restrained passion. His hands resume their exploration, but now there's an added layer of care in every caress.

I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in my eagerness. Connor chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my skin where his lips are pressed to my neck. He helps me, and soon we're both free of the last barriers between us.

As he positions himself above me, Connor pauses, his gaze locked with mine. In that moment, I see everything—his love, his worry, his desire. "I love you," he murmurs, the words carrying the weight of a vow.

"I love you too," I whisper back, my heart swelling with emotion.

Then he's entering me, slowly, carefully. The world narrows down to just us, the feeling of him inside me, the sound of our mingled breaths, the taste of his skin as I press my lips to his shoulder.

We move together, finding our rhythm. It's gentle at first, mindful of my injuries, but as the pleasure builds, so does our urgency. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure crash over me.

Connor buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he whispers endearments against me.

I can feel myself getting close, teetering on the edge of bliss. "Connor," I gasp, my voice raw with need.

He understands, his movements becoming more purposeful. One of his hands slips between us, and with a few expert touches, I'm falling apart beneath him, crying out his name as ecstasy washes over me.

Connor follows me over the edge moments later, his body tensing as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, careful not to put his full weight on my injuries. For a long moment, we simply lie there, breathing heavily, our bodies still connected.

Finally, Connor lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. There's a softness in his gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly tender. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

I nod, unable to keep the smile from my face. "More than okay," I assure him, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He returns the smile, relief evident in his features. Slowly, he withdraws from me, and I sigh at the loss of connection. He rolls to the side, pulling me with him so that I'm nestled against his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I revel in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

We lie in comfortable silence for a while, Connor's fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. I can hear the steady beat of his heart under my ear, a soothing rhythm that threatens to lull me to sleep.

"I’m sorry, Sunshine," Connor murmurs suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. "That I worried you," he trails off, his arms tightening around me.

I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I know, but it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay."

He sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. "I need you to tell me if anything makes you uneasy, if anything or anyone scares you."

I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at him. His face is etched with worry. "Hey," I say firmly, cupping his cheek with my hand. "It’s going to be okay."

He nods, his hand sliding into my hair. “Promise me, Sunshine.”

I swallow hard, knowing that he needs me to do this. “I promise, Con. You’ll be the first one to know if anything feels off.”

He nods, seemingly relieved that I agreed without much of a fuss.

“Sleep, Grá,” he says, his voice thick and hoarse. “You’re safe here.”

He has no idea that I’m always safe whenever he’s with me. He’s always made it that way. I close my eyes and snuggle closer to his body, loving the warmth of him next to me. “Night, Con. I love you,” I whisper.

“Night, Grá,” he says. “Love you too, Sunshine.”

When I fall asleep, I do so with a huge smile on my face. This is all I have ever wanted.

I’m sitting on the bed, wearing his tee as he gets dressed. “What’s the plan for today?” I ask, wondering if I’ll be confined to the clubhouse once again.

“We’ll be dealing with the aftermath of yesterday,” Connor tells me distractedly as he pulls on his cut. He turns to me, his eyes assessing me. “Grá, there’s nothing to worry about.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. I don’t think I could face another day being cooped up here.”

He moves toward me, his fists planting on either side of me on the mattress, his eyes glinting with barely concealed anger. “I get that you’re used to working and doing what you want, whenever you want, but, Sunshine, these fuckers wanted you dead. They beat you, stabbed you, and they would have killed you.”

I swallow hard, my heart racing as I meet Connor's intense gaze. The memories of that terrifying attack flash through my mind. I can almost feel the phantom pain of the knife slicing into my skin.

"I know," I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. "I just... I feel so helpless, Connor, like I'm not in control of my own life anymore."

His expression softens, and he cups my face gently with one calloused hand. "I get it, Grá. But right now, keeping you safe is my top priority. Our top priority."

I lean in to his touch, drawing comfort from his warmth. "So, what exactly does 'dealing with the aftermath' entail?"

Connor's jaw tightens, and I see the dangerousness return to his eyes. "We're going to send a message."

A shiver runs down my spine, both from fear and a twisted sort of excitement. I know I should be horrified by the implications of his words, but a part of me feels vindicated. Protected.

"Will you be gone long?" I ask, trying to keep the neediness out of my voice.

He leans in, pressing a fierce kiss to my lips. "Not if I can help it. But I need you to promise me something, Sunshine."

I nod, breathless from his kiss. "Anything."

"Call me if you need me." I have a feeling that’s not what he was going to say.

I want to argue, to insist that I can take care of myself, but the memory of helplessness, of pain and terror, is still too fresh. So instead, I nod again. "I promise. If I need you, I’ll call you. Can I go to my apartment?"

Connor's eyes narrow slightly, and I can see him weighing the risks in his mind. After a moment, he sighs. "Alright, but you're not going alone. I'll have Jerry have two of his men escort you there and back."

I bite back a protest, knowing it's futile. Instead, I force a small smile. "Thanks. I just need to grab a few things, maybe water my plants if they're not already dead."

He nods then leans in to press his forehead against mine. "I know this isn't easy for you, Grá. But I need you safe. You're... you're everything to me."

The raw emotion in his voice makes my heart clench. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I know. You're everything to me too."

We stay like that for a moment, just breathing each other in. Then Connor pulls away, his expression hardening as he slips back into Bozo. There’s a difference between the two. I have always gotten Connor. But the hard eyes and angry glint tells me that Bozo is never far beneath the surface.

"Jerry will have men here as soon as he can, okay? Stay in the apartment, don't linger, and come straight back here. Understood?"

I nod, trying not to feel like a chastised child. "Understood."

As Connor leaves the room, I start to get dressed, my mind racing. I know he's just trying to protect me, but I can't help but feel trapped.

Thirty minutes later and I see Brendan and Ruairí waiting for me. I’ve known Brendan for a while, and I’m shocked to learn that Ruairí is Ailbhe’s brother who now works for Jer.

“Grá,” Brendan says with a small nod. “You okay?”

I force a smile, trying to appear more composed than I feel. "I'm fine, Brendan. Thanks for asking."

Ruairí eyes me sceptically, his gaze lingering on the fading bruises on my face. I resist the urge to touch them self-consciously.

"Let's get going," I say, eager to leave the confines of the clubhouse.

The ride to my apartment is tense and silent. Brendan drives while Ruairí sits in the back with me, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. I feel a mixture of gratitude and frustration at their vigilance.

As we pull up to my building, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. It feels like ages since I've been here, though it's only been a few weeks.

"We'll come up with you," Brendan says as he parks the car.

I nod, knowing there's no point in arguing. We make our way up to my apartment, and I fumble with my keys, suddenly nervous.

When I open the door, the familiar scent of home hits me, and I feel a lump form in my throat. Everything is exactly as I left it, yet it feels different somehow. Like it belongs to a different version of me. My heart races as I remember the attack that happened here. I hate that my home will always be tainted by what that animal did to me.

"I'll just be a few minutes," I tell the guys, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

As I move through the apartment, gathering clothes and personal items, I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Not by Brendan and Ruairí, but by someone else.

I water my plants, most of which have miraculously survived my absence, and pause at my desk. My laptop sits there, untouched. I hesitate for a moment before grabbing it and shoving it into my bag. Maybe I can do some paperwork, feel a little more like myself.

As I'm zipping up my bag, my phone buzzes. It's a text from Connor.

Connor: Everything okay?

I type out a quick reply. Me: All good. Heading back soon.

Just as I hit send, I hear a crash from the living room, followed by Ruairí's shout. "Get down!"

My heart leaps into my throat as Brendan bursts into the bedroom, his gun drawn. "We need to go. Now."

I fumble with my phone, remembering the promise I made Connor. I quickly text as best as I can as I rush after Brendan.

Me: Not sure what’s going on but something’s not right.

I hear a gunshot and instinctively duck, my heart pounding in my chest. The sound is followed by a man grunting and something heavy hitting the ground.

Brendan grabs my arm, pulling me toward the fire escape. "Move!" he yells, shoving me through the window.

I scramble onto the metal grating, my hands shaking as I grip the railing. The sound of more gunshots echoes from inside the apartment, and I hear Ruairí shouting something I can't make out. I pray that he’s okay.

Brendan follows me out, his body tense as he scans the alley below. "We need to get to the car. Stay close to me, understand?"

I nod, unable to form words. We start descending the fire escape, the metal clanging beneath our feet. I'm acutely aware of how exposed we are, my eyes darting around for any sign of danger.

Suddenly, a figure appears at the end of the alley. Even from this distance, I can see the glint of a gun in their hand.

"Shit," Brendan mutters, pushing me behind him. I watch in horror as the man who appeared in the alley points his gun at Brendan and shoots him.

I release a horrified scream as Brendan crumples to the ground, blood blossoming on his shirt. My mind races, torn between the instinct to help him and the desperate need to run.

"Go!" Brendan gasps, his face contorted in pain. "Get out of here!"

Tears blur my vision as I turn and sprint down the alley, away from the gunman. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of footsteps behind me. I don't dare look back, focusing solely on escape.

I round a corner, nearly losing my footing on the slick pavement. My lungs burn as I push myself harder, faster. I need to find help. I need to get somewhere safe.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm, yanking me into a narrow space between two buildings. I open my mouth to scream, but a large hand clamps over it.

“You should know,” I hear my captor growl as they start dragging me toward the parking lot. “I love the chase. It’s been five years now, Gráinne.”

I sob against the hand pressed over my mouth as I realize who has me. Mike. He was my friend. Why is he doing this?

He reaches his vehicle and throws me into the trunk. “You should have just accepted one of the dates, Grá,” he grunts with a wicked smile as he slams the trunk door down, sinking me into darkness.

Oh God, what is he going to do to me?