"I told you to stay here."
"I'm not a prisoner, Eamon."
"You are exactly that until I say otherwise." I close the distance between us. "You want to know why? Because three people are dead because of last night. Because there's a contract on anyone connected to our business. Because I'm responsible for keeping you alive."
Her chin lifts in defiance. "I can take care of myself."
"Like you did at the warehouse? When you needed me to save your ass?"
Color floods her cheeks. "That was different."
"Was it? Because from where I stand, you're a civilian who keeps making choices that could get you killed." I step closer, forcing her to look up at me. "And for some reason, that bothers me more than it should."
The admission hangs between us. Her lips part, breath coming faster.
"Why?" she whispers.
"Because I want you alive. Not just breathing, but alive. Safe. Here." My hand moves to her face without permission, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "And that's a problem."
"Why is it a problem?"
"Because wanting things gets people killed in my world."
Her eyes darken. "What if I want things too?"
The question hits me like a punch. She moves closer, close enough that I can smell her shampoo, feel the heat radiating off her skin.
"Sorcha." My voice comes out strained.
"What if I want you?"
My control snaps. I back her against the door, hands braced on either side of her head. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Then show me."
I crash my mouth against hers, claiming rather than asking. She responds instantly, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. She tastes like coffee and something uniquely her—addictive and dangerous.
Her leg wraps around my hip, pressing her core against my thigh. I groan into her mouth, grinding against her until she gasps.
"Eamon." My name on her lips sounds like a prayer.
I bite her neck, marking her. "You're mine to protect. Mine to keep safe."
"Yes." She arches against me. "Yes."
My hand slides under her shirt, finding bare skin. She's soft and warm and perfect. When I palm her breast, she cries out, head falling back against the door.
"Tell me you want this," I demand against her throat.
"I want this. I want you."
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her toward the bedroom. She weighs nothing in my arms, but the way she clings to me makes me feel like I could conquer armies.
We reach my bed when her phone rings.
The sound cuts through our haze like a blade. She stiffens in my arms.
"Ignore it," I growl, capturing her mouth again.
