Page 2 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

But I know the heartbeat of this particular car when it rumbles down my block. I listen for it every night sitting at my window. Wishing. Hoping. Dreaming.

Shane opens the Mustang’s passenger door. “Get in.”

“Where are we going?” I stand frozen on the curb.

His jaw clenches. “I’m not leaving you with a bunch of drunk kids. Your father is out. And Garrett is...”

“Yeah?” I detect a crack in their relationship.

Garrett is my lifeline to seeing Shane. What if he plans to tow the Quinlan line and distance himself from my brother? This may be my last chance to be near Shane and feel his lips on mine.

I’m taking it.

I slide inside the Mustang and Shane shuts my door. Strutting with power, he rounds the car and climbs in beside me. The scent of leather and his cologne wrap around me .

Clean. Sharp. Too much. It’s too real.

How did I get here?

Shane revs the engine and peels away from the curb. We drive in silence down the empty streets of Astoria. I’ve never been out this late. Knowing what my father does, what Shane’s father does, the emptiness I see isn’t empty at all.

Wicked deeds hide in the shadows of these streets.

“Mr. All Talk, now you’re quiet,” I say, my pulse still off the charts.

White-knuckling the leather-wrapped steering wheel, Shane grinds out in his faint Waterford, Ireland accent, “Trying not to say something I’ll regret.”

I swallow thickly. “Like what?”

He shakes his head, expelling a harsh breath.

After a few minutes, Shane pulls his hotrod into the secluded parking lot of a warehouse overlooking Astoria Harbor.

City lights from behind us shimmer on the water, casting a soft glow that bounces back into the Mustang’s interior.

He cuts the engine, and the silence is a gong, thundering in my ears.

Heavy and tense, the air between us slowly thickens with something deeper than the November night sky.

“Well, you got me here.” I turn to him, anxiety spiraling through me.

“I can’t believe you were going to let Derrick Rossi kiss you.” The biting anger in his voice reeks of envy and malice.

“Sure, why not?” God, his jealousy fires up my excitement. Down there. “I’m old enough now. That’s the whole point of waiting and marking off the calendar until you’re eighteen.”

Shane’s gaze peers into me, full of conflict.

“Just because you’re eighteen, Lennox, doesn’t mean you’re an adult.

Going into a closet with a football jock might be a game.

But giving a guy like that permission to touch you is not.

You have no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with.

Plus, he’s Italian with ties to the Parisis .

The Italian mafia is causing all kinds of trouble lately. We stay clear of them.”

I know by we he means us, the Irish.

I wave off his concern. “We don’t care about that in school. Irish. Italian. There’s even a kid named Petrov who just got here from Russia.”

“You need to stay away from the Russians even more than the Italians.”

I stare back, my throat tight. “You sound prejudiced, Shane. And you shouldn’t keep treating me like a child.”

He strokes a tendril of my hair between his fingers. My asymmetrical blouse hangs off one shoulder, inviting his other hand to caress the exposed bare skin. His touch sends tingles through my body.

“You are most certainly not a child anymore, Lennox.”

“I’m glad we agree.” Silence stretches out until I whisper, “In a couple of months, I’ll be away at college.”

“College?” he murmurs. “Already?”

“Yeah, I have the credits to graduate. I want a degree and work. Have a career. Dress in nice clothes and high heels. Do my hair and makeup every day. Live , Shane.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Except for one thing.” I lick my lips.

“And that is?” he drawls.

My heart pounds as he taunts me to say the words. The desire I’ve only imagined and never dared to say out loud.

With liquid courage, however, I whisper, “I want to head off into this new chapter of my life with the memory of a great birthday kiss.”

I’m shaking like a leaf, my throat bone dry waiting for his response .

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Lennox,” Shane says, but there’s no warning in his voice. Just need.

I boldly stare at him despite the way my knees are knocking together. “I know exactly what I want.”

“Fuck,” he curses for the first time. He’s usually very proper around me. “I’ll give you that kiss. Me. Because...” He cups my cheek. “Because I’ve wanted it, too. I only want you . And I’ve hated myself for wanting to feel your lips on me.”

A shiver bolts down my spine, my breath catching as Shane’s words sink in. He wants me, too? But... He hates himself for wanting me?

My fingers curl into his shirt, like holding on to him is the only thing keeping me grounded. A slow, dizzying burn spreads through my limbs. My heart slams against my ribs, every pulse a drumbeat of finally, finally, finally .

“Then stop hating yourself,” I whisper, my voice shaking as I tilt my chin up to bring our lips level and oh-so close. “Stop fighting it.”

“You’re so damn innocent.” He grips my hair in a near-painful hold, his breath ragged against my mouth. “And mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Shane kisses me and everything just stops . I swear the air between us crackles like a live wire. His lips are warm and strong, softer than I imagined. I press into him and let Shane set the pace, opening and closing my mouth in sync with his. He’s so damn gentle at first. Tentative.

Then everything changes.

With a sexy little grunt, Shane deepens the kiss. His tongue swirls with mine, and my entire body trembles with a sensation I’ve never felt before.

I feel his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with my own, suggesting that Shane might want to take this further. But am I ready for more?

His big hands slide down to my waist, pulling me on top of him. I’m sandwiched between him and the steering wheel, my legs splayed open across his thighs. Even in tight jeans, I feel a bulge in his pants rubbing against my center while his mouth devours me.

I see stars as an ache blooms between my legs.

“God, Lennox,” Shane moans. “Your mouth makes me want to fuck you right here, right now.”

His confession leaves me speechless, my body painfully tight with want.

But the distinctive sound of gunfire wrenches Shane away from me. He turns his head in the direction of the jolting noise at the end of the block and his jaw drops.

My gaze follows his. The powerful gaits of his older brothers and the red hue of their hair in the moonlight are unmistakable. They’ve got someone in their grasp. It doesn’t mean anything to me until a familiar slope of shoulders is thrust into the glow of a streetlamp.

My father.

My stomach drops as Dad shifts from side to side.

His face twists in a scowl as he argues with Griffin Quinlan, the second oldest brother in Shane’s family.

The tension between them is visible even from a distance.

There’s faint yelling and clenched fists.

Whatever I’m seeing isn’t a deal or a drop-off.

It’s a warning.

Shane’s body goes rigid against mine. The mood and our stolen moment shatter, reality crashing back like the tide.

“Ah, bloody hell.” Shane swiftly maneuvers me into my seat, his mask back in place. “Christ, I’m sorry. This was wrong.”

Tears well in my throat. “What? Why?”

He shakes his head, his voice breaking. “Because a Quinlan can never be with a Donnelly.”

Shane revs the engine and doesn’t say another word to me as he drives off.

The silence thickens for a new reason, coiled tight like a thread holding a boulder and ready to snap. Shane’s jaw flexes, the muscle ticking.

I steal a glance at him, but his eyes stay locked on the road, his expressionless face carved from stone. Once again.

He brings me back to my house. But he stares at his home. Quinlan Manor sits there in the foggy distance. The beacon of his family’s power must remind him of who he is and his responsibility to the Quinlan legacy.

“Don’t say a word about this, Lennox. Forget this ever happened.”

Forget this ever happened?

How am I supposed to forget the way he looked at me just moments ago? The way his hands trembled when they touched my skin, like I was something he craved.

How am I supposed to forget the way he kissed me? Like he was claiming something he knew he had no right to? Like I was his.

How am I supposed to forget the way he pulled back, eyes burning, jaw tight, forcing himself to shove me away like I was nothing?

Like we were nothing.

But his earlier words come crashing back: A Quinlan can never be with a Donnelly.

A bitter laugh claws at my throat, but I swallow it down. My fingers curl into fists in my lap as I force myself to breathe past the ache in my chest. He doesn’t want me. Not enough. Not the way I want him.

I won’t beg. I won’t ask why.

I won’t let him see me break.

“Fine. Have a nice life, Shane.” I get out and slam the car door.

He makes a U-turn and drives off. Probably racing to join his brothers or find some other girl whose name isn’t Donnelly.

I only want you...

The bells of St. Agatha’s ring twelve times, and I take a few more seconds until my birthday is officially over. I wanted to kiss Shane Quinlan and I got my wish.

Now... I’m the one who wants to forget.