“Seriously, are you not concerned about Teagan finding out?”
He sighs and drags a hand through his bed hair. “She knows something is going on between us. She didn’t seem too upset. Maybe I’m overthinking the whole thing.”
What?
Am I dreaming and talking in my sleep? I drop it even though I’m freaked at the thought of Teagan finding out.
Killian lets out a contented yawn and props both hands behind his head. He looks like he’s in no rush to leave. He smiles at me. “Wow.”
“Wow, what?” I wipe my mouth in case he’s talking about drool on my chin.
“Your eyes. They never cease to take my breath away. I can’t get over the color of them.”
Oh my God, swoon alert. Be still, my poor heart. I fight a giggle. “It’s because I’m a mutant. I don’t know the science, but green eyes are a mutation, apparently. Did you know only two percent of the world has green eyes? I’m unique.”
“That you are. Sexiest mutant I’ve ever seen.”
Since the leprechauns are in control, I may as well extract what I can from him. “Hey, I have a question.”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs lazily.
“What was your first impression of me when we met in the hotel? I’ve always wondered.”
I brace myself.
“I was surprised that a beautiful young woman asked for my advice on underwear.” He smirks as if remembering. “Then you started breaking shit in my hotel and dropped to your knees.”
“You were very grumpy,” I say with a small pout.
His brows rise. “Like I said, you were breaking shit. And you’re a little thief. What else have you stolen besides soap and cars?”
“Nothing! Anyway, stuff in hotels is fair game.”
“Not unless you’re a resident. Which you were not.” He chuckles. “But I’ll admit that I have thought about you wearing that lingerie and choker quite a few times since then.”
Oh. My insides are turning to goo. “Good thing I bought it then.”
He seems to like this idea as his eyes blaze with heat. He rises onto his forearms, holding his weight up, and impatiently pushes my legs apart with his thigh. “Fuck my early morning meeting. Fuck them all; they can wait. This can’t.”
I feel a tiny shiver of nervous excitement. He’s all man. He would crush me if he let himself drop.
“Next time, wear the choker,” he growls as his hand travels down my stomach until he finds the sensitive spot between my legs.
My toes curl as his fingers tease my clit, pleasure rippling out in little waves through my body. “Yes, sir,” I breathe, looking right into his eyes. “Whatever you want.”
This seems to tip him over the edge. His hand closes over my jaw as he pushes himself into me.
I tense up a bit before my body relaxes into the rhythm of his thrusts.
God. This man feels so good inside me. My legs wrap around his waist, my feet digging into his butt.
“Clodagh,” he groans, and I swear there is a hint of love in his voice and the way he looks at me.
In this moment, we have an invisible bond that only we can feel. I feel warm and happy and content. If I were a poet, I’d say our souls were speaking.
The muscle in his jaw jumps as his gaze drops to my breasts, bouncing with each thrust; I can tell he’s close now. He breathes heavier, his focus slipping. His face contorts, beautiful jaw slacking, eyes drowning in lack of control.
With a heated growl into my neck, he explodes inside me.
No, Killian Quinn. I’m not giving you up.
***
“What are your plans for when Mrs. Dalton returns, and I no longer need you?”
My smile drops. Now he’s half dressed and back in business mode. An unpleasant feeling rises in my stomach. I know he’s talking about the job, but his words feel personal. They cut.
I slowly climb off the bed and reach for my leggings. “The agency might have found me a couple who need an au pair,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the edge to my tone. “It’s only three days a week, so the other two days I’m going to focus on building up some inventory to sell. Orla and I are going to try to find somewhere affordable in Brooklyn. Not the fancy part, obviously. We’re checking out the cute district with the large Polish and Hungarian community.” I’m rambling. “Do you know it?”
For some reason, this irritates him. “I know it.” He pulls his T-shirt over his head and looks at me. “Do you even want to be an au pair?”
“Not really. But not everyone loves their job, right? I want to stay in New York, so this is a compromise.”
“I’m working on a permanent solution for you.”
My hand freezes as I reach for my vest top. “What?”
“A green card,” he says as if he were talking about getting me a hot dog from a street stand. “Not tied to the hotel. A green card that means you can work anywhere you want and stay for as long as you want.” His brow furrows like he’s scolding a child. “And you should start charging for those yoga classes on Saturday, by the way.”
He says it so casually.
Green card. Like it’s a bus pass or something instead of a permanent pass to the States.
My pulse skyrockets.
Don’t get excited.
“Really?”
He nods. “Really. I’ll help you put together a business plan.”
“Business plan?” I squawk because, apparently, I’m a useless parrot now.
He slips his foot into a shoe. “For how you’ll make carpentry work for you in New York. Quinn & Wolfe has a team that helps small businesses get on their feet; we’ll get you in to pitch. I can be there if you need me to.”
I might actually wet myself if he keeps talking. Or cry. Or pass out.
All these magical words coming out of his mouth. He can’t just bounce around suggestions like these and not expect me to have a meltdown.
“I…” I struggle around the lump in my throat, too overwhelmed to process anything. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“It’s fine,” he says grumpily, now fully dressed. He smooths down his T-shirt. “Right, I’d better get-“