by KB Winters
“I guess so,” I said with a smile.
I put on some pajama bottoms to walk from the bed to the bathroom. I could feel Maggie watching me. As much as I’d wanted to take things slow after yesterday in the car—and had made some bold proclamation to that effect—I’d ended up bringing her home with me. I still wasn’t sure why, except that I had a hard time saying goodbye at the end of the day and wanted to see more of her.
Which was dangerous. To bring anyone into my life right now was a risk—one I wasn’t sure I should take. But a risk I felt compelled to take because Maggie was entirely captivating to me.
I dropped the pajama bottoms and climbed in my giant two—or three if you were really close—person shower, turning the water on as warm as I could take it. Letting it rush over my face, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. The water soothed me, helped clear my mind, and allowed me to focus on the day ahead. My morning shower had always been my sanctuary, my place to prepare to tackle the day.
With the water running, washing away the tension, the bathroom door opened and pulled me from my thoughts. I stared out of the glass shower door and saw Maggie, standing there naked—and smiling.
Until that moment, I had never seen her in the light without clothes on. Last night, she’d undressed and had gotten into bed beside me, but she hadn’t actually gotten naked until after we’d had sex. During the act, she’d still been wearing her shirt and bra because we were in a hurry, and who the hell has time to stop and take off clothes when you’re that desperate to be with someone? But now, she stood before me fully exposed, and I couldn’t help but stare. She was absolutely stunning.
Her curves were more pronounced than I had originally thought them to be—her breasts perky, yet full. The roundness of her stomach and hips were distinctly female—she most definitely had curves in all the right places.
How in the hell had I never noticed how feminine, how beautiful, and how absolutely drop dead sexy she was before this? Now that she stood before me—fully in the nude—I wondered how I could have looked past her all the years she’d been by my side.
“I thought you were staying in bed?” I said, my erection growing as I looked at her, drinking her in from head to toe.
She walked toward the shower and opened the door, smiling. “I decided against it,” she said, closing the shower door behind her and wrapping her arms around me from behind. “Decided if the boss was up and getting ready, maybe I should be, too. I wouldn’t want to look like a slacker or like I was bucking for special treatment around the ol’ office, you know.”
Her lips grazed my back, sending shivers throughout my entire body. I grew longer and firmer as she pressed her body against mine from behind, nuzzling in close to me.
“Oh, Mags,” I groaned, feeling my body ache with need—even though I’d had her twice yesterday. “You’re going to make it so fucking hard to get any work done, you know?”
“I know,” she said, trailing her hands down my chest and abs, stopping right above my cock. “Now you’re going to know how it felt to be me all those years, Aidan. Looking at you, wanting you, but unable to do anything about it because of our working relationship. You’re going to learn what it is to want somebody with every fiber of your being and not always get to have them.”
“Evil, evil woman,” I laughed, turning and pressing her against the back of the shower. “But you have to remember one thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked, biting her bottom lip, a twinkle in her eye.
Pressing my torso into her, I held her there, pinned between me and the wall as I gazed down at her.
“I’m still the boss,” I growled, lifting her, and thrusting my cock deep inside her with a feral need I’d never felt before as the hot water rushed over our bodies.
Chapter Nineteen
Maggie
Aidan was right about one thing—it was going to be hard to remain focused and get any work done now that we were involved. Every time he walked past my desk, I had to resist grabbing his tight ass. And I could see the way he was looking at me—each time I leaned over to hand him something, his eyes lingered on my boobs.
No doubt, the same erotic thoughts and memories that flooded my mind whenever I looked at him, rushed through his. I couldn’t help but think about fucking him in the car or anywhere else we’d done it. And I had to imagine he was having the same problem.
I was so hot for him, even though I’d had him the night before—and yes, even this morning—but I was insatiable. I wanted him so badly, I could taste it. My panties were soaking wet, and I tried hard to focus on work, but damn, it was hard when all I wanted to do was walk into his office, hike my skirt up, pull my panties to the side as I straddled him, and fuck him right there in his chair.
I was daydreaming about riding Aidan good and hard in his office when the phone rang. Pulling myself out of my fantasy, I cleared my throat and answered it. But before I could start with my regular canned greeting, a thick Irish accent cut me off.
“I need to speak to Aidan. Now,” the caller demanded.
I rolled my eyes but knew I needed to remain professional. So, in my friendliest receptionist voice, I asked the caller, “And may I ask who’s calling?”
“Aye, it’s not your business, love,” the mystery caller snapped. “Just put him on the line.”
Red flags started waving right off the bat. Most of the brotherhood knew how to reach Aidan directly—none of them were likely to call the front office. With alarms ringing in my head, I asked the caller to hold for a second. He tried to argue with me, but I pushed the button and placed him on hold before he could speak another word.
With a sigh and an overwhelming feeling of trepidation settling over me, I walked into Aidan’s office. “There’s someone on the phone for you. He won’t give his name, but he has an Irish accent so I assume he’s one of yours.”
“One of mine?” Aidan chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he shook his head. “Probably not. All of my guys have my private number and it hasn’t gone off at all today. I haven’t even received a text message, so...”
“Huh,” I said. “You want me to get rid of him?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all. That’s my job,” I said with a laugh, turning to head back to my desk and giving a little extra swish of my ass for Aidan’s sake.
Sitting back down, I picked up the phone and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Brien isn’t available right now, can I take a message?”
“He’s available,” the man said, his voice ice cold. “Put him on the phone. Now.”
I forced a smile on my face, hoping it would come through in my voice, but I couldn’t quite manage it. I didn’t appreciate being talked to in that manner and my smile faltered, settling into a scowl instead—a scowl that was more than evident in my tone when I spoke.
“I’m sorry, but he’s not available,” I snapped. “You can either leave a message or—”
“Love, shut your goddamn mouth a minute. I know he’s available because I’m looking right at him,” the man said. “Now put him on the goddamn phone.”
As soon as he said it, I looked around the office, my hair standing on end and a chill ran through my body. My heart stuttered and an adrenaline-fueled fear tore through me. My voice caught in my throat, and I couldn’t force myself to speak—this was the first time anyone had ever spoken to me like this.
I was completely dumbfounded and wasn’t sure what to say to him. “Please hold.”
I shot out of my chair and dashed to Aidan’s office—I couldn’t get to him fast enough. He took one look at me and stood up.
“Mags, what’s going on?”
“The man on the phone says he can see you,” I said, tension bordering on panic coloring my voice. “He said he was looking at you right now.”
Aidan did the same thing I did—he looked around the office as if there were a man hiding behind the potted plant or under the chairs, staring at him. There were large windows that faced the
street, but we weren’t on the first floor. Not even close. No one could be looking in at us from the street—we were too high up. Which meant that somebody out there had to have binoculars or a camera and were likely in one of the buildings across the street from us.
Aidan didn’t ask me to transfer the call. Instead, he walked briskly out of his office and over to my desk, picking up the phone himself. He was still looking around as he held the phone to his ear, a look of concern on his face.
“Amon?” he asked. “Is that you?”
Amon? That name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it right off the bat. And then it hit me—he was the man who’d come in before. It all made sense now. Or rather, at least I knew who Aidan was talking to. Amon had been a grade-A asshole when he’d stormed into my office the other day. But this—the way he’d spoken to me and the fact that he was spying on us from, presumably, across the street went well above and beyond being creepy.
Folding my arms protectively to my chest, I stood to the side and tried to discretely get out of the line of sight of the windows. I could only hear Aidan’s side of the conversation, but he was clearly pissed and had no desire to talk to Amon—whoever the fuck that was.
“No, listen to me, we have nothing to discuss,” he said, his tone as cold and rash—his Irish accent thicker than usual. “Stop calling ‘ere and harassing my receptionist. I’m going to instruct her to hang up on you the minute she hears your voice again. That’s it. This is your only feckin’ warning, lad.”
Aidan slammed the phone back down into the cradle in a huff and marched back into his office, past me, without saying a word. I swung around and stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
“Well? What was that about?” I asked.
“Nothing, Maggie. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled as he sat back down and picked up the stack of papers in front of him, trying to focus and get back to work.
“Don’t worry about it?” I asked, feeling shaken to the core. “Aidan, what if he’s the one who tried to kill you?”
Aidan looked up at me and shook his head, his expression grim. “No way. Believe me, it’s not him.”
I leaned against his doorjamb, my arms crossed over my chest and my heart still thundering away. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I am, Mags,” he said a little too curtly. “Trust me on this, all right? He’s not the guy.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust him. God knew I wanted to. That Amon character had to be nothing but bad news, that much I could tell. Why Aidan felt the need to defend him, or at least, not even entertain the idea that he was the man who’d tried to kill him, was beyond me. Especially when the guy was supposedly spying on us.
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm down, reminding myself that this wasn’t any of my business. Well, it wasn’t my business except for the fact that I could end up in the crosshairs if Aidan screwed up. I wasn’t real keen on being collateral damage.
But then again, getting involved with someone like Aidan meant I was putting myself at risk. It wasn’t Aidan putting me in harm’s way, it was me putting me in harm’s way. I knew what I’d gotten into.
In fact, I think the element of danger associated with Aidan turned me on and made my attraction to him all the more powerful. Not that it made any sense, but it was true.
“Fine,” I muttered, turning around and returning to my desk—no extra swishing of my ass this time.
Chapter Twenty
Aidan
“The brothers are getting restless,” Emmett confided in me one-on-one, before a meeting with the rest of the brothers. “They’re afraid you’re too soft. Some of them don’t think you’re strong enough to keep us united.”
“But I’m an O’Brien,” I said through gritted teeth as I clenched my fists at my side and resisted the urge to punch something. “Without my family, there’d be no brotherhood. Not at all.”
Emmett shrugged. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said. “I just thought you should know what’s being said.”
I sighed and nodded, willing myself to calm down. “I appreciate the heads up. I do,” I said. “Have they forgotten it was them who were cleaning up after me, the feckin’ leader of the O’Brien syndicate just weeks ago after I killed a man in me office?”
“That was in self-defense, lad,” Emmett stated with a shrug of the shoulders, as if the crime was of less stature among the brotherhood. Murder was murder. A man had died by my hands.
It was times like these, I wished Flynn was here. Or at least, available to talk to. I had no doubt that he’d know exactly what to say and how to handle these guys so there’d be no more questions about my authority.
But Flynn wasn’t here. And I was left to deal with all this shite on my own. I was going to have to find a way to make the men fall into line and respect my authority. But how, was the question.
“We need a mission, Aidan. A common purpose that binds us all together,” Emmett said. “When Flynn was here, we had the deals with the bloody Russians, and that was huge. That tied all the brothers together nice and neat. Now, that’s fallen through. And no one is sure where you’re leading us—what your agenda is. The men need to know there’s a future here—work to be done. Keeping them busy and having a common purpose is going to be your best ally. Believe me. There’s a reason they say that idle hands are the Devil’s playthings—or whatever the feck it is they say.”
Even though it was my family who’d started the syndicate, I’d never wanted any part of it. And for good reason. To work in my field, I needed to be squeaky clean. I knew any potential ties to the Irish mob would destroy my career before I ever got it off the ground. And I’d worked hard to get my degree and lay a foundation for a career for myself. Yeah, I was one of the good guys.
It was hard enough to escape the suspicion and preconceived notions of me simply because of my name. It was hard to stay completely afloat in the river of shite I was currently drowning in simply because I was who I was. I’d helped the syndicate out from time to time, but I tried to stay far away from most of the illegal functions. I had to stay clean and avoid getting any of the shite from the syndicate stuck to me.
And yet, now here I was—the leader of the very group I’d worked so hard to distance myself from. It was an ironic—even cruel—twist of fate, but now, I was the man in charge of making plans and brokering deals that were the epitome of everything I’d always tried to stay away from.
“What about the deal we have going with the Mayhem MC?” I asked. “Think we can expand that operation?”
“Where do you think Mayhem gets their guns from?” Emmett asked me.
Honestly, I had no idea. That was one of the problems. I was still trying to get up to speed on all of the syndicate’s operations. But I had an idea where he was going with that question—it seemed relatively obvious and perhaps rhetorical.
“The Russians, I’m guessing?”
“Yep. And they’ve been working with the Russians longer than we’ve been around, mate,” Emmett said quietly, scratching his beard. “I doubt they’ll jump ship to work with the likes of us. Especially after all the bad press we’ve been getting lately. The last thing they’re gonna want to do is tie themselves to a sinking ship.”
“We’re hardly a sinking ship, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said dryly. “That is exactly why it’s imperative I clear my brother’s name. Sooner, rather than later.”
Emmett cringed. He’d cleared his throat and tried to hide it, but I could tell he was holding something back—something I wasn’t going to like.
“What is it?” I asked. “What is it you’re not saying?”
Emmett sighed. “Nothing, Aidan,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Aye, I am worried about it,” I said. “So feckin’ spill it.”
“Fine. I’m only telling you this because I’m an old family friend, so hear me out,” he said. “Do ya think ya should be spending so muc
h time and energy on clearing ya brother? Wouldn’t it be a slight bit better for you, and the syndicate as a whole if ya distanced yourself from him? The guys are thinkin’ your efforts to clear Flynn is a sign that your loyalties might be in the wrong place.” Emmet paused and took a breath. “Flynn’s a snitch and honestly, I don’t know if that’s a label you’re ever gonna get off of him. Aligning yourself with somebody seen in that light weakens your position and makes the men wonder where your loyalty lies.”
“My brother didn’t feckin’ snitch,” I said, steeling myself against any arguments Emmett might have to the contrary. “And I’ll be damned—”
Holding up his hands in defeat, Emmett just shook his head. “Again, don’t shoot the messenger. You wanted honesty, I’m giving you straight up honesty, lad,” he said. “This is what keeps the distance between you and the others. They don’t trust you because of your allegiance to somebody they see as a rat. I’m only trying to help ya out on this.”
“I know, Emmett.” Rubbing my temples, I told myself we’d have answers about Flynn soon enough, but I had my doubts. Not about his innocence, but about being able to prove it. “I’ll try to keep my investigation quiet and stop talking about it so much. And I’ll do my best to not let it come up during business. But trust me on this, I’ll never stop fighting for my brother.”
“I don’t get it, lad,” he said. “I don’t understand why you risk your life and reputation to defend him. You’re risking the organization by your loyalty to him. You and your brother weren’t even that close.”
“Not as adults, maybe,” I said. “But that was my doing, not his. I’d always thought myself better than him because I had higher ambitions than he did. I looked down on him and the brotherhood, if you want me to be completely honest. That was all me. He tried to forge some kind of relationship, but I was too busy looking down my nose at him to take the olive branch he was offering. And because of that, I owe it to him to clear his name. He’s my brother, Emmett.”