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With Everclear-laden jungle juice coursing through my veins, I’d foolishly accepted someone’s challenge to play pool. My first shot nearly tore through the felt, leaving an embarrassing six-inch white scratch along the green fabric. All of a sudden, Liam was there, though I didn’t remember him arriving. Casually, he licked his thumb, then smeared away the incriminating mark as if it had never been.

I remember heat gathering between my legs, merely from the sight of his tongue flicking over the pad of his thumb. When he coached me through the proper billiards form, I was done for. Everclear and hormones and Liam’s firm body against mine made my head spin so badly I couldn’t breathe. I remember gasping, and Liam, worried, clutching me upright. But him holding me closer only worsened my confusion.

My body wanted him, I wanted him. But I’d made a vow, and I was determined to keep it. I remember breaking out of his arms, then running away. I spent the rest of the party nursing a Solo cup of water before he walked me home. There was an awkward silence between us all the way back through our neighborhood, but I doubt Liam remembers any of that night anyway.

I take a deep breath in through my nose.

Here in the taproom, I don’t have to break away. I’ll never have to run from Liam or my feelings again. I relax my shoulders, melding my body into his as he envelops me. This time, the rush of heat between my legs is a welcome reminder of my desire for him.

He brushes his lips against my ear as he murmurs tips I can’t process. All I know is his breath, the heat between our bodies, the press of his hardness against my backside. I nearly collapse out of sheer want, my legs weak in these heels.

He nibbles my earlobe, and my eyes roll back in my head, the pleasure of it making my knees shake. Then he bites down, and I yelp in surprise. The pain shoots straight to my nipples, which stiffen until they’re sore as they rub against my bra. I whimper in confusion. The sensations of pleasure and pain are contradictions. Or they should be.

“You weren’t paying attention,” Liam says gruffly.

“I was having trouble focusing,” I say, breathless.

He chuckles darkly as he repositions himself behind me. I have no idea what’s going on in the taproom around us, and I don’t care. I’m so zoned out to everything that isn’t Liam.

When he’s nudged my feet to where he wants them, he shifts the angle of my hips too. But instead of cupping his palms around my hips, he digs his fingers into my flesh, chuckling again when I gasp.

I recognize that undercurrent of darkness within his delight. He was so upbeat today. When he picked me up from work, when we got ready for this date, when he drove me here. I’d thought it was because of our wedding on Saturday, because he’s experiencing the same joy I am. But his happiness is… different.

When he lets go of my hips, I miss the pressure of his fingers, that strange combination of pleasure and pain. That reminder of his violence, I realize.

My breath hitches, and I feel that horrid curiosity trying to wriggle into my brain again. Why was Cora so mad at him? What did he do that might’ve gone beyond his duty?

Surely he didn’t seek out violence. But then, why does his cheerfulness have a dark streak to it?

How could one find joy in violence? For that matter, how could one find pleasure in pain? Or excitement in danger?

I squeeze my eyes tight against a rush of dizziness. My two worlds of mafia and innocence scrape against each other like a diamond along glass.

And with Liam’s hard muscles pinning me to the pool table, the resulting fracture threatens to shatter me.

Chapter 42

Liam

She will make the most incredible boss’s wife this city has ever seen.

As I drive us home from the bar, she keeps glancing over at me. Every time, she shifts in the passenger seat. First, it’s to drape open her coat. Then to inch her dress up past her knee. Then higher. Higher still.

By the time I squeal us into the parking garage, her panties are peeking out. I struggle against my urge to climb over the console. To fuck her brains out right here and now.

But I resist. I still haven’t gotten to fuck her in our bed. And that’s what I want tonight. To take her like my true wife.

I’m not complaining about all the hot table sex we’ve been having. Brioni’s lean thighs spread wide as I pump into her, her hair splayed like a halo on the dark wood. But there’s something about the thought of fucking her in our soon-to-be marital bed that drives me wild.

We’re practically jogging in our rush to the elevator. I assume it’s eagerness on her part. And with my cock throbbing, I feel it too.

But I also do not want Brady and Cora to catch up with us. I’ve had enough of that woman for tonight. I assume she told Brioni all about my sins during their bathroom chitchat. Beating up Connor because he wouldn’t give me, the boss, the information I demanded. Boohoo.

The best part is, Brioni chose me over Cora’s nonsense. I knew she would. But it’s always nice to see your assumptions confirmed. My fiancée came out of the bar’s bathroom smiling at me. Readily devoting herself to her soon-to-be husband.

When we get up to our top-floor home, I whisk off Brioni’s coat, ready to scoop her into my arms. To carry her into our bed. Throw her down so hard she bounces.

But she surprises me, taking me by the hand. Then she leads me to the billiards room, of all places. I thought she’d had enough of eight-ball for one night.