His sharp tone raised her hackles. She understood why they had to put up that pretense in front of Rabbit, but she still resented being ordered rather than
asked
.
“Yes, sir.”
She started to get up, but he pinned her with his naked body, propping his elbows on either side of her head as a smoky look darkened his eyes. “What’s your hurry?”
“We need to get back to the other flat.”
“No. I haven’t had my fill yet.”
She became aware of the thick erection trapped between them. Long and hard, pulsing against her belly. She tried to fight the rising arousal, ignoring her swelling clit and tingling breasts, but she might as well have been asking the sun not to rise.
“You got what you wanted,” she protested. “I slept with you again. And trust me, I knew who I was with the entire time. We’re done here.”
“Are we?”
His hand found her breast, and when her nipple hardened against his palm, she cursed her body for betraying her. She was already wet again, anticipation surging through her veins and pulsing in her core.
Sean smiled. Slow and wicked and full of sinful promise. “I don’t think we’re done at all, luv.”
Pleasure shot through her when he pinched her nipple, lightly twisting it between his thumb and index finger.
“Yes,” she gasped.
He chuckled. “Yes, we’re done, or yes, that feels good?”
Goose bumps broke out on her skin as his hand moved between her legs. An anguished moan slipped out when he stroked her most sensitive place.
“We’re not done,” she whispered.
“That’s what I thought.”
His mouth captured hers in a reckless kiss, and then it was gone, traveling down her body and leaving shivers in its wake. He circled her clit with his tongue, hot and insistent, teasing and probing until she was reduced to a moaning, panting mess.
He lifted his mouth slightly. “Remember the rules, Bailey. You say my name when you come.”
He was primal and infuriating, and goddamn it, she was helpless to deny him. Orgasm hovered beneath the surface, and as hard as she tried to fight it, it still broke free, ripping through her body and shattering her mind. When she exploded, it
was
his name she called out.
And she hated herself for it.
His ragged breathing fanned over her sensitive flesh. She felt his excitement thickening the air and knew he would be inside her soon. She
wanted
him inside her.
In the back of her mind she wondered if she would ever
not
want this man, but then she lost the ability to think altogether because Sean climbed up her body and plunged deep, and a wave of pleasure swept her away to a plane of mindless bliss.
His thrusts were as urgent as before, hard enough to shake the futon frame, to make her gasp for air and cling to his shoulders. Sean was the only man she’d slept with who didn’t hold back during sex. Who didn’t treat her like she might break, or shy away from the rough play she enjoyed.
He came moments after her second climax, groaning her name as he shuddered. This time when he rolled over and pulled her to his chest, she didn’t move away. She lay nestled at his side, struggling to steady her breathing, wondering why the sex between them was always so damn explosive.
It was several minutes before he released her so he could duck into the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth. Bailey didn’t say a word as he cleaned her up. His touch was almost reverent as he swiped the warm towel over her core.
This was what confused her the most. The tenderness,
completely incongruous with his overbearing personality. It was so much easier to keep her defenses up when he was being a jackass—
They both froze when a creak echoed through the loft.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Bailey’s head shot toward the mocking voice of the man standing in the doorway.
It was Cillian Kelly.
Why the
fuck
hadn’t his security alarm gone off?
Sean dove off the bed, his feet slapping the hardwood at the same time Cillian raised a gun in his direction. He didn’t have time to reach for the gun on the bedside table. And he couldn’t even throw a blanket over Bailey’s naked body because she was lying on the damn thing. Fully exposed to Cillian’s glacier blue gaze, which wasted no time sweeping over her pale curves.
Cillian glanced back at Sean. “You won’t be needing your weapon.” He smirked at Sean’s groin, the jutting hard-on that had gone from a lust-induced erection to a danger-fueled boner. “Or your gun,” he added, looking amused by his own joke.
As Bailey reached for the edge of the bedspread, Cillian cocked his pistol at her. “No. Don’t cover up. I like your tits.”
Fury pounded into Sean like steel fists. He was going to rip out that son of a bitch’s throat for saying that. For
looking
at her like that.
“I suggest you take your eyes off my girl’s breasts,” he said coldly. “Unless you’d like me to cut them out of your face.”
Cillian chuckled. “You were always a possessive bastard, Reilly.”
“And you were always a sick fuck. I remember you liked to watch—that was your kink, right?”
The other man just smiled. “All right, you win. You can both put some clothes on. We need to have a little chat.”
Wholly aware of the weapon pointed at them, Sean tossed one of his discarded T-shirts at Bailey. He shielded her from view as she slipped it on, and when she stood up and he saw the shirt hanging to her knees, he was suddenly reminded of how small she was.
Cillian was still watching her. No, leering at her, in a slimy, predatory way that pounded the last nail in his coffin—Sean was going to kill him. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But he
would
die.
Sean wasn’t going to lose a wink of sleep over it, either. He’d never liked Kelly. The man had joined Rabbit’s crew a few years before Sean had left it, and it hadn’t taken long at all to see that he was a violent, sadistic asshole.
“What are you doing here?” Keeping a close eye on Kelly’s gun barrel, Sean tugged on his sweatpants, then strode to the security monitors. He cursed when he spotted the black screens. “What’d you do to my system?”
“Disarmed it, obviously.” Cillian rolled his eyes. “That’s what happens when you rely on wireless technology to keep you safe.” He waved toward the couch. “Sit down. Both of you.”
Lovely. His living room was about to host yet another unwelcome tête-à-tête.
Had Rabbit sent Kelly? He must’ve. Which meant that Rabbit hadn’t bought Sean’s sudden decision to rejoin the group the way he’d led Sean to believe.
Shit.
The three of them sat down, Cillian occupying the same armchair Flannery had used last night. He rested his gun on his thigh as he confirmed Sean’s discouraging thoughts.
“I know what you’re up to, Reilly.”
“Yeah?” Sean shrugged. “And what am I up to, Kelly?”
“Returning to the fold, begging Rabbit for his protection so you can keep your little bird safe.” Cillian arched a brow at Bailey. “But you don’t need a man to keep you safe, do you, sweetness? From what I hear, you can handle yourself just fine.”
“Oh really?” she said evenly. “Who told you that?”
“My employer.”
Sean sucked in a breath as something niggled at his brain. He studied the other man intently. Then cursed out loud.
“Bloody hell. You’re Flannery’s mole.”
“Mole?” Cillian frowned. “That’s a very unflattering word. I prefer . . .
trusted observer
.”
The revelation made Sean’s head spin. Fifteen years. Cillian Kelly had served Rabbit for
fifteen
years. He was a vital cog in Rabbit’s organization, and the first lieutenant Rabbit had truly trusted since Sean’s father had died.
“You’ve been working for Rabbit’s enemy this whole time?” Sean couldn’t contain his disbelief.
“Of course not,” Cillian answered. “Jeez, Reilly, do you really think it would take me that long to do my job?” He set his gun on the table, as if he no longer needed to keep up a menacing front now that he’d revealed himself. “Not that Ronan didn’t try to recruit me sooner. He tried. Approached me about ten years back, but I turned him down.”
“What finally changed your mind?” Sean demanded. He found himself oddly angry on Rabbit’s behalf, which
was all sorts of fucked-up because he didn’t give a shit about Rabbit.
“What do you think? Money.” Cillian snorted in derision. “The Dagger has been spinning its wheels for years now. Rabbit has no interest in expanding our interests. He’s perfectly content with the status quo. His low-rent operation and feckin’ rackets that earn us peanuts. The man has no concept of ambition.”
“Rabbit was never ambitious,” Sean pointed out. “His goal has always been to unite the country. He earns enough to fund the organization, but we both know he doesn’t care about money.”
“You’re right. I did know that.” Cillian shrugged. “But I decided I didn’t want to live in the gutter anymore. Once I take over, we’ll start making changes. Forget the feckin’ politics. The end goal is gonna see us become very rich men, Reilly. Rabbit can’t make that happen, but I can.” He cast a meaningful look. “
W
e can.”
“I don’t need any more money,” Sean said coldly. “And for the sake of full disclosure, you should know I’m not planning on being Flannery’s errand boy for long. I agreed to help him take down Rabbit, but after that, I’m done. I won’t be sticking around.”
“Pity. I could use someone like you by my side.”
His jaw tightened. “Someone like me?”
“You know, smart. Calculated. Ruthless enough to get shite done without worrying about right or wrong.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Kelly.”
“I know that six men robbed a bank and only one of them walked out. And I know it wasn’t Gallagher’s idea, as you led Rabbit to believe.” Cillian chuckled. “Only thing you’ve ever cared about was yourself. Saving your skin, and your brother’s. And now your girl, apparently. I see you’re widening your little circle of people you give a shite about.”
“Is there anything else you want to discuss tonight?” Sean said abruptly.
Cillian looked from Sean to Bailey, then gave another chuckle. “Nah, I’ve done what I came here to do. Just wanted you to know whose team you’re playing for.”
Yeah, fucking right. The only team Sean had ever played for was his own, and Oliver’s, and fine, Bailey’s too. If Cillian thought they were now best buds because Flannery pulled both their strings, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
Cillian stood up and shoved his weapon at the small of his back, then smoothed out the tails of his button-down shirt. “I suggest you get your alarm system back online.” He winked. “You never know who might break in. And I’ll see you at the pub tomorrow—we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
When Sean didn’t answer, Cillian focused those ice blue eyes on Bailey. “I look forward to seeing more of you, luv.”
Sean stiffened. Luv? Like hell she was. Only
he
was allowed to call her that.
He quickly added
cut out tongue
to the growing list of mutilations he’d be giving Cillian.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Reilly. Fuck her nice and hard for me.”
Miraculously, Bailey managed to keep from exploding until
after
Cillian had gone, but when she did, the volume of her voice nearly shattered Sean’s eardrums.
“
Fuck her nice and hard for me?
Are you kidding me! Are you fucking
kidding
me, Sean! That man is
disgusting
!” She groaned loudly. “Goddamn it, why did I come to Dublin?”
He glowered at her. “I’ve been wondering the same thing for days.”
But he knew the answer to that—she’d come to save
his ass. And as a result, she’d become a player in a game none of them wanted to play.
He felt like begging her to leave again, but he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he might end up begging her to
stay
. No matter how badly he wanted to protect her, he didn’t want her to leave him again.
What he wanted was to implore her to give him a chance. A real chance to prove that he could be more to her than a good lay.
But the plea got stuck in his throat. Reilly men didn’t talk about their feelings, especially with women. His father had always warned him that loving someone too hard would only destroy you in the end—and God knew that love had definitely destroyed Colin Reilly. When Sean’s ma had died, it had broken his father. It’d made him reckless, led him to accept the higher-risk jobs that he usually handed off to other soldiers. Colin had put his life at risk because he simply hadn’t given a shit anymore, and Sean knew his father had died long before the car bomb killed him.
That was what women did to you. That was what Bailey did to
him
. She consumed his thoughts. Caused his composure to unravel like an old sweater. Triggered the obsessive urge to protect her. Hell, just the sight of her in that oversize T-shirt made him want to pull her into his arms and never let go. But he knew she’d probably draw back if he tried—
Whenever I’d touch her, she’d draw back awkwardly.
His brother’s confession suddenly seared into his head, and now that the whiskey was no longer clouding his mind, he was finally able to comprehend its meaning.
The first time I kissed her, she burst out laughing.
Whenever I’d touch her, she’d draw back awkwardly.
Son of a bitch.
She’d known.
The night at the hotel . . . she’d
known
he wasn’t Oliver. She
must
have. Unless she’d developed a sexual attraction to his brother overnight, but how likely was that? She’d been seeing Oliver for months, after all. She’d already kissed him, known what it felt like—and what it didn’t feel like.
But she hadn’t laughed when Sean had kissed her, and she certainly hadn’t drawn back from his touch.
A slow grin stretched across his mouth.
“What are you smiling about?” Bailey said warily.
The smile widened, but he wasn’t quite ready to confront her about his thoughts, so he shrugged and said, “Nothing important.”
But Jesus, it
was
. It was more important than he knew what to do with at the moment. The realization had elicited a rush of . . . something he couldn’t decipher. Something that floated through him like a feather and lightened his heart. It took him a moment to figure out what it was, and once he did, he grinned even harder.
It was hope.
* * *
The following afternoon, he and Bailey walked into O’Hare’s Pub and found it bustling. The bar wasn’t open to customers yet, but Rabbit’s men were all there, crammed into booths or sitting at tables as they ate their lunch and drank their Guinness.
Every pair of eyes swiveled toward Sean when he strode inside. Voices lowered to gruff murmurs, which brought an inward groan, because clearly earning these men’s trust would not be an easy feat. The guys who’d been around during his Dagger days remembered how he’d abandoned the cause, and the new soldiers were taking their lead from the older ones, pointedly avoiding Sean’s gaze as he headed for the nearest table.
He greeted the men with a nod. “Rabbit around?”
“Stepped out,” Callum Quinn muttered.
Shit. Well, at least Cillian wasn’t there either. Sean didn’t want anything to do with that perverted motherfucker.
Though he couldn’t deny that Kelly had made their job a helluva lot easier by revealing himself to them. Sean had hoped Morgan’s men would leave now that the mole hunt was over, but no such luck. When he’d suggested it to Sullivan over the phone that morning, the stubborn Australian had told him to fuck right off. Apparently D and Ash had teamed up with Oliver to gather intel, and Sully, Liam, and Isabel—who the
hell
had called Isabel?—were handling surveillance in case Sean and Bailey needed backup.
Sean signaled to Rory behind the counter, who scowled at him when he ordered a Guinness. He doubted he’d ever see a pint glass, but he still sat in the empty seat next to Quinn as if he belonged there.
The older man stiffened, then shoveled some shepherd’s pie into his mouth without uttering a word.
Sean sighed and looked at Bailey. “Go sit at the bar, luv. I need a moment with the fellas.”
She wandered away like an obedient girlfriend and slid onto a stool at the bar. She kept her back turned to them, but Sean knew she was listening to every word, aware of every person in the dim-lit room.
“I get it,” Sean announced as the silence dragged on. “I’m back, and you don’t like it.”
“It’s not our place to like it,” Robbie Doyle said dourly. “Rabbit calls the shots.”
The rest of the room remained silent, and Sean’s frustration grew. “I know you lads are pissed at me for skipping town, all right? But I never got a chance to share why I left.” It was true—he’d been completely shunned
after he and Ollie had quit the crew. None of the men had spared them even a second to state their case.
He looked around the table, saving Quinn for last. Quinn’s opinion carried the most weight with the other men, and if Sean was going to win them over, he needed to start with the ginger-haired behemoth at his side. “I’m just asking for a chance to explain now.”
There was a long silence. Quinn picked up his beer and took a swig, then slammed the pint glass on the table.
“Let’s hear it then, lad.”
The story he’d concocted flowed out smoothly, just as he’d rehearsed in his head. “I never saw this as my cause,” Sean confessed. “My father . . . it was his thing, y’know? Me and Ollie, we worked for Rabbit because Da worked for Rabbit. We did what they asked without question, but . . .” He shrugged. “We started to question it. Started to wonder if maybe we were just sheep, following orders because it was expected of us and not because we truly believed in what we were doing.”
No one spoke, but he was gratified to see a few grudging nods. These men understood. They’d all joined up for the same reason he had—because their dads had fought for the cause, because their granddads had fought for the cause, because their whole bloody family had fought for the cause.