Page 89 of Unrequited

“Tell me.” The tea’s grown cold in my mug, and my belly growls with hunger.

“I want to keep you.”

He looks away. Then looks back.

“I know,” I tell him with a shrug. “But what’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know how to keep something safe unless I’m holding it so tight it might suffocate.”

I reach out and touch his hand.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” I whisper. “Choose me, Seamus, if you have to. Then let me choose you back.”

His fingers wrap tighter around mine, not a prison. And for the first time, he doesn’t try to answer with words. He just holds me.

“I need a shower,” he says finally. “Join me?”

Chapter 17

SEAMUS

I knowmy time alone with Zoya is ending. Today could be the last day I have her before my family comes for me. We’re on borrowed time.

There’s been a whole bleeding clan of bastards trying to shove me off the throne. But I’ve still got a few loyals. Real ones. And I didn’t even bother to hide her. Could’ve, if I wanted. Hell, part of me still wants to.

But I want to claim my wife. Ineedto.

I want Zoya in a way I’ve never wanted anyone. It’s time.

She follows me to the bedroom. She’s barely dressed, just a T-shirt and a thin pair of panties, and the way she peels them off without hesitation tells me everything I need to know.

I can’t believe she’smine.

Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, watching me from the doorway like she’s already waiting to be devoured.

“Come here,” I say, crooking a finger at her.

She walks toward me slowly, lashes lowered. The perfect goddamn submissive. She’s everything I never knew I needed. When she gets to me, I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist like we’ve done this a thousand times.

“I have so many things I want to ask you, Seamus,” she whispers, her voice hitching in her throat.

“Ask me anything, doll.”

I kiss her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek. Her jaw. Her shoulder. “I told you, I’ll answer anything you want. What is it, love?” I murmur.

“So, those texts from my family.”

I go still.

“Are you going to intercept my texts?”

“Not a feckin’ chance,” I growl, kissing her hard, right on the mouth. “I came here. I took you with me because you belong with me, Zoya. You know that as well as I do, don’t you?”

She stares at me, like she’s waiting for the catch. There is no catch.

“You were set to marry some gobshite who wouldn’t know yer worth if it kicked him square in the stones. There’s no way in hell my family and yours would’ve agreed to it. So I made it happen.”

“Quite a visual…” she mutters, her eyes twinkling at me.