Page 24 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Twenty: Kieran

I didn’t leave…and this time, I wasn’t going to.

She tried to kick me out, but in the light of day, with soft winter sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtain, all I could do was stare at her.

I counted the beauty spots on her face, the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

I took time to linger on the arch of her brows, on the ridges of her lips, on the shadows of her cheekbones.

She had lost weight since I had seen her at that cafe, drinking a cappuccino and half-eating a lemon scone, furious about having me confront her.

In a way, I had done exactly what Tristan wanted from me. In a way, we owned Ruby Marquez. And that…fuck, it should have made me happy, but all it did was scare the crap out of me.

Reaching out, I hesitated before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked disoriented for a second, then her gaze settled on my face.

“You’re still here,” she said.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“No. Should I?”

“Yes. You absolutely should. No one can know you’re here.”

“No one will know I’m here.”

She sat up, shaky. “Kieran, you can’t be here. This is untenable. It’s bad for you and it’s bad for me. You can’t…”

I yawned and stretched. “I mean, it wasn’t bad for me. I had fun. Didn’t you have fun?”

“Yes, I had fun, but that is absolutely not the point,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I always have fun with you.”

“A compliment? From you?” I said. “Wait. Are you fucking with me?”

She shook her head. “This is serious, Kieran. What about your brother? Didn’t he give you—”

“A week,” I said. “I bought myself more than that, I think.”

She sat up straighter, pulling the blanket tighter around her chest like she’d just remembered she needed armor. “Cost you a lot?”

“Just my dignity.” I tried to smile. “Told him I had it under control.”

She didn’t smile back.

“And he believed you?”

I watched her expression shift—saw the gears turning behind her eyes. The calculation. The fear.

“He wants to believe me,” I said.

Her voice dropped. “Kieran… he threatened to kill me.”

“I know.”

“He said he’d put a bullet in my head.” Her mouth was tight. Her hands clenched around the blanket now, knuckles white. “You said that like it was just another day at the fucking office.”

I exhaled slowly. “It’s not.”

“Then why are you still here? Why the hell did you come back?”

“Because I made my decision already,” I said. “You and Rosie? You're not part of this. Not anymore. If he forces the issue… then he forces me too.”

She stared at me. “So what? You’re going to take a stand? Against Tristan Callahan? You think he’s going to let you walk away with the witness he was ready to bury?”

“I’m not asking his permission.” My voice came out quiet, but solid. “And I’m not asking yours either.”

That stunned her into silence.

I softened, just enough to keep from pushing too hard. “How are you feeling?”

She stared at me for a beat. She wanted to interrogate me, it was what she did…but she also knew I was done with this line of conversation.

And somehow, shockingly, she let it go.

“You mean after you didn’t let me sleep all night?” Her voice was dry, but her lips quirked into a smile. “I’m sore as fuck. Tired as hell.”

“Good,” I muttered, ducking under the covers like I lived there now—because I did. I edged closer, let my hand trail up her thigh, fingers dragging along sensitive skin until she twitched. “You wet already? Just thinking about last night?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I slid my fingers higher. “Let me find out.”

She sucked in a breath as I brushed over her, slow and deliberate.

“I like it when you sleep naked,” I murmured. “Makes it easier to get to what’s mine.”

“Kieran,” she warned, breath hitching. “Do you ever give it a rest?”

“Never,” I said, mouth ghosting over her stomach, then down. “I want you all the time. Every second. Even when I’m sleeping, I want you.”

I kissed her—mouth, neck, the soft skin just beneath her breast—then lowered myself fully between her legs.

“You said we didn’t sleep,” I murmured, dragging my tongue up the inside of her thigh. “But you got at least an hour. That’s generous, considering how many times I made you come.”

She laughed, breathless, and kicked lightly at my shoulder. “Get out.”

“Not before I’m done with you.” I wrapped my arms under her thighs, locking her down. “Again.”

I buried my face between her legs like it was my only prayer. Like she was the only god I believed in.

She gasped, hands flying to my hair. “Wait, I’m really—fuck—I’m really sensitive—”

“I know,” I said, voice rough against her skin. “I want you sensitive. I want you shaking. I want you crying from it.”

She whimpered, already there, already unraveling.

“I’m going to stay here,” I growled, “until you forget your own name. Until the only thing left in your head is mine.”

Then my fingers found the spot they knew like a prayer—precise, unerring, hers. My tongue circled her clit, teasing, dragging, pressing just enough until she gasped. Until her hips jerked. Until she started to shiver with it.

I didn’t want to leave. I could’ve stayed buried between her thighs forever, mouth locked to her like she was oxygen.

“Christ, you taste good,” I groaned into her. “I could do this all fucking day. The rest of my life. Every meal. Every morning. My mouth on you, always.”

My fingers slipped over her, soaked and warm, and I swore I’d do it just one more time—make her fall apart again—but I was so fucking hard it hurt. I was trembling with it, teeth clenched, cock dragging against the sheets, against her stomach. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be inside her.

“Too much,” she gasped, sharp at first, then softer. “Fuck… it’s too much.”

She tugged at my hair, yanking me up, pulling me in like she didn’t care what it did to either of us. Her body did the rest—legs wrapping tight around my waist, back arching, all of her slick and open and hungry. Selfish and perfect and mine.

My God, she was going to be the end of me.

But I should’ve known. Of course the end of me would start here—with her body, with her heat, with the mess we made and the way she took me like she had every right to.

There was nothing soft or sweet about it—just the raw grind of her hips and that high, broken whimper when I pushed deep.

Hard and long, like I was trying to brand it into her.

Like she hadn’t already ruined me completely.

I tipped her chin up with one hand, fingers gripping, mouth at her throat. The pressure was obscene. The slide infinite. My balls were tight and aching, the coil building so fast I knew I couldn’t last. Didn’t want to.

“Say it again,” I rasped into her mouth. “Just once. Lie to me.”

“I hate you,” she whispered.

I growled. “You’re so fucking hot when you lie.”

She moaned, clenching around me, and I lost it. Thrust harder. Deeper. I pulled her flush, hips slamming into hers with bruising force, the kind you feel the next day and the one after that.

The room went still except for us—the slap of skin, the ragged breath, the frantic, filthy rhythm of need. Her gasps were getting too loud, too close to unraveling.

I covered her mouth with my hand, half a joke, half deadly serious.

“The neighbors’ll hear,” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Ex-DA Moans for Gangster. Imagine the headline.”

She bit my palm.

I fucked her harder.

The world narrowed, everything dropping away except for this—her body, my name in her mouth, the unstoppable way she wrapped around me like she’d never let go.

“Oh God, Kieran—”

“I know. Fuck, I know. Come with me. Come now.”

The sun went white. The air left my lungs. I emptied myself into her, coming hard and deep and mine, as she shattered beneath me—together, violent, perfect.

It felt like everything we were and everything we weren’t allowed to be.

And when the world finally crawled back into focus, I let my hand slide gently from her mouth. Brushed the sweat-damp hair off her cheek.

She was flushed, dazed, beautiful.

Ruined.

And she was never going to get away from me again.

We stayed like that until the light changed, until our breath slowed and our heartbeats faded to a comfortable pulse.

I didn’t want to get off her, but I knew I should.

A dozen different plans rushed through my mind, but none of them involved getting the fuck off of her and out of here. And I didn’t care.

I rolled to my side, pulling her with me, wrapping around her and not letting go.

“Give me a few weeks? We’ll leave. Just you and me and Rosie.”

She stiffened.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but think about it. It’s safer that way.” I pulled back to look at her, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Okay?”

“Kieran…” She paused, her voice careful–and I realized she was fucking afraid of how I would react. “My daughter doesn’t know you.”

I stayed quiet, jaw tense, but I didn’t let her go. Not now. Not ever.

“I know you like this idea,” she continued, “of sweeping me off my feet and disappearing into some fairy tale where none of this ever happened, but—Rosie has a life . A stable , carefully constructed life. With routines and friends and a school she loves.”

“She’s not even ten,” I said. “She doesn’t need routine—she needs to be safe .”

She shook her head. “Whatever is happening between us…she doesn’t know you. You’re not her father. Julian is.”

My chest went cold. Then hot. Rage rising under my skin, fast and wild.

“That’s really fucking unfair,” I snapped. “You took that from me. You decided that. That man can’t be her father—just because he married you? You don’t even like him, Ruby.”