“Oh,” I breathe. “You made a joke.” I sigh with relief. “I’m so sorry for waking you. Is Teagan awake?”
“She sleeps through everything. Apparently, it’s a teenage skill.”
I nod, feeling my shoulders jump with a chill. I glance down at my nipples, jutting up like coat hooks, and I brusquely fold my arms over my chest.
Killian stiffens.
Neither of us speaks.
My gaze drops down his delicious torso to the outline of his cock in his boxers. Is he half-hard? Heat floods me as I stare down. He’s all fucking man.
I stop breathing.
When I look up again, he stares at me through hooded eyes ablaze with unashamed hunger.
He wants to fuck me. I think. No, I know. I know he does. Right here in the hallway, as hard as he can.
The man would tear me apart.
My lips involuntarily part. My thighs part slightly. My heart skips a beat.
He’s going to kiss me.
Please.
“Go to bed,” he says, his voice full of gravel.
He turns abruptly and takes a few steps toward the grand staircase to his bedroom before stopping. “Do you want a nightcap?”
“Sure,” I whisper.
He nods curtly. “Put on a robe or something.” His voice is extra gruff as his eyes slide over my body one last time, triggering another violent shiver.
I must have hypothermia.
Killian
I might have found the whole damn thing comical if I wasn’t so irritated. God knows why I didn’t fire her on the spot. Instead, here I am, against my better judgment, waiting for Clodagh to have a nightcap with me.
Soft footsteps pad toward the kitchen. I look up to see her wrapped in a nightgown. Thank fuck. I could do without the unwanted arousal.
“Hey,” she says sheepishly, hovering at the doorway of the kitchen as if worried I’ll bite her.
She glances at my outfit-gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt-and seems relieved that I’m no longer in just my underwear.
I get off the stool and go to the drinks cabinet, giving her a slight nod in greeting.
She comes to stand beside me, loitering awkwardly. Her robe is looser than I need it to be. I avert my eyes from the slit on her thigh to reveal soft, creamy skin.
“Do you want me to pour it?”
I direct my chin toward the barstool. “You’re not on the clock now.”
She smiles coyly, tilting her head up. “If I’m not on the clock, does that mean you’re not my boss right now?”
I step closer to her, close enough to smell her scent and see every light freckle dotted on her nose.
Lust hits me at the worst possible time, and my cock thickens in my sweatpants. On a caveman level, I want to fuck her. To lay her body out on the kitchen table, push my angry throbbing cock deep inside her tight young pussy and feel it spasm around me.
But just because I want her physically doesn’t mean I’m foolish enough to act on it. New York is overflowing with beautiful women, and I have no intention of crossing any boundaries with the little Irish troublemaker.
“I’m always your boss. Do as you’re told and take a seat.”
Her face flushes as she nervously laughs, trying to hide her obvious reaction to me. Is that little pussy getting wet for me right now?
She does as she’s told and sits.
I pour two generous portions of whiskey on the rocks before making my way over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the opposite stool. That way, I can’t see the slit running up her thighs while she’s seated.
I hand her the glass, our eyes meeting as she takes it from me. “The Irish don’t do whisky as well as the Scots. This is one of the finest whiskys you’ll ever taste, aged in the Highlands for over thirty years.”
“Older than me.” She places it under her nose and erupts into a coughing fit. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Try it.”
She takes a second sniff. “What if I hate whisky? Don’t I get a choice?”
“You won’t hate it.”
Unconvinced, she brings the glass to her lips and tentatively takes a sip. Her face screws up as the liquid hits the back of her throat.
“Good?” I ask.
“Strong. I don’t have much to compare it to.” She attempts a second sip. “It burns on the way down.”
She swivels gently on the stool, eyes crinkling in contentment. “I’m glad we’re past the unfortunate incident this evening.”
“We’re not past anything. I’m still deciding whether to reprimand you.”
“Oh.” Her mouth falls open as she tries to ascertain whether I’m being serious. She nervously bites her lower lip, her eyes conveying the thrill she’s trying to conceal. “How… how would you reprimand me?”
Our eyes lock, the surged energy charging in the air between us.
My grip on the glass hardens. “You sure you want to go there?” I let my gaze linger, and her face turns bright pink.
She bottles it. She nervously twirls a lock of her deep red hair and looks down at her glass. “I don’t understand how Liam got the address,” she says softly, trying to defuse the tension in the air. “The only person who has it is my friend Orla, and she wouldn’t give it to him.”
“My address is on the internet.”
“See?” She blows out a breath. “You can’t blame me for that. In fact, I’m the victim in all of this.” The glass comes to her lips again, and the sip is much larger this time.
Her robe is falling loose. Under it, she’s still wearing the flimsy top. In another life, I would have stepped closer to her, gently pushing the robe off her shoulders to reveal her smooth skin. I’d start at her neck, slowly traveling down to her breasts where my tongue would caress each one until she begged me to fuck her. Dammit. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
“Are you trying to tug on my heartstrings?” I ask, my voice full of gravel.
“Yes.” Her eyes hold mine as I take a long gulp from my glass. “Is it working?”
“No.” But I can’t help the hint of a smirk. “Resilient little thing, aren’t you? You really gave it to him with those flowers. I almost didn’t have to step in.”
She laughs, the tension leaving her shoulders. “I’ve had a lot of practice growing up with three crazy brothers. I get that you’re concerned about Teagan, but Liam won’t be setting foot near here again. I swear I’ll kill him myself if I have to.”
“One,” I begin slowly, my fingers curling around the tumbler. “I know your friend won’t be back, I guarantee it. Two, he is zero threat to my daughter’s welfare. And three, tonight, you gave me reason to be concerned about your welfare.”
She looks surprised. “You don’t have to be, but that’s very kind.”
“It’s not kind. I have a duty as an employer. When my staff is kidnapped from my house, it’s my business.”