Page 88 of Killaney Fire

Keira's hair is messy in the best possible way, and her breathing has finally evened out, but her shoulders are tense. I can feel it in the way she moves, quick, jerky steps instead of her usual confident stride. She's nervous. I don't blame her.

We just fucked. Crossed about every line there is and then some.

The gym mat's still imprinted on my knees. My lips slightly numb from how hard I kissed her. I can still feel her nails digging into my shoulders, the way her body clenched around me when she came, twice. The sounds she made.

Fuck.

I close my eyes for half a second, forcing the images out of my head. Not helpful right now.

She stops at the top of the stairs, her hand gripping the doorframe. "I'm going to take a quick shower," she says withoutlooking at me. Her voice is soft and unsure. Uncertainty, maybe, or regret. Damn. I hope not.

I open my mouth, and I almost say,I'm coming with you.Almost. My body still aches for her. My mouth still tastes her. Her heat is still soaked into my skin. But I bite it back.

"Alright," I say instead, giving her a nod. "I'll be here."

Her green eyes search my face for something, maybe trying to decide what this was. What we are now.

Hell if I know, but giving her space to process this is probably a good idea. Shit, I need to process this too.

She turns and disappears down the hallway.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the empty space she left behind, my mind spiraling.

I shake my head and make my way to the kitchen, heading straight for the sink. My mouth is dry as hell, and even after chugging a full glass of water, I still taste her on my tongue. Her sweat. Her kiss. Her moans echoing in my head like a song you can't stop singing.

I glance around the kitchen, at everything perfectly in place, totally opposite of the chaos I just unleashed downstairs.

Fuck.

I set the glass down and grip the edges of the counter.

Focus, Octavian,I tell myself.I can't allow any emotion to cloud my judgment.

I can't. For me, for her, for my brother's memory. Shit, for everything.

And I can't seem to suppress my uncle's voice eitherlet it happen.

My stomach twists.

I can't be weak for her. Not when the world she's tangled in is unraveling around her. Not when my job, my duty, is to protect her.

And yet, my cock twitches at the memory of her naked beneath me. Of her green eyes lost in pleasure.

I close my eyes. Breathe in deep. Breathe out slow.

She's just... she's the most infuriating, desirable woman I've ever met. She's?—

"Octavian!"

Her voice yanks me out of my thoughts. I spin around as she runs into the kitchen barefoot, phone clutched in her hand, and a towel knotted around her chest.

She looks panicked.

"Look, I—" I start, stepping toward her, ready to address the massive line we just crossed.

"No, not that," she cuts in and holds up her phone, her hand trembling slightly. "It's him. Martin. The mole I wanted to go after. He's calling me."

My focus narrows on her phone, and I close the distance between us, stopping right next to her. "Is that normal? Does he call you?"