Conquering Circumstances: Black Shamrocks MC Novella by Kylie Hillman

Author:Kylie Hillman [Hillman, Kylie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, saga, MC, organised crime, dark, family, Suspense
Publisher: Kylie Hillman
Published: 2016-08-20T18:30:00+00:00

Looking around the bar of the Clubhouse, I search for Mik among the gyrating bodies that surround me. Now he’s free, my need for him seems to have intensified. It was bad when he was in jail and I couldn’t touch him, now it’s almost too much to bear if he’s not within arm’s length. The four hours since his release have been a sweet torture as I’ve tried to hide my increasing desperation to be near him while basking in the glow his return shines on us all.

I can’t see him. Panic takes hold. My heart starts racing and I begin sweating. A drop runs down my chest, between my breasts, and into my bra. The swirling in my stomach that’s become a constant symptom of my ongoing anxiety picks up, making me nauseous.

“Mik.” I stand on my tiptoes, attempting to look above the crowd while I call out to him. Bile rises in my throat. I press my hand against my breast bone in an attempt to calm my heart—it feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Swinging in a circle, dizziness overcomes me when I still can’t find him. My eyesight fades, dimming rapidly, making the faces of the people around me blurry.

“MIK,” I yell into the loud room full of people who’ve come to celebrate his freedom. Heads turn in my direction, mouths dropping open.

“Angel?” Mik’s voice comes from behind me. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls my back to his chest. It’s not close enough for me so I turn in his arms and bury my head in the crook of his neck. With strong hands on my hips, he pushes me away from him so he can look down at me.

Shrewd eyes measure my state, recognising my terror, and he doesn’t hesitate to give me what I need. With strong hands under my armpits, he lifts me in the air so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Seconds later he lowers his mouth to mine and subdues my panic with the connection I’m craving. Our audience rewards us with their enthusiastic approval; fist pumps and laughing demands to “get a fucking room” filling the bar.

Maintaining our positions, Mik makes his way to a vacant couch. Sitting down, he ends our kiss and rearranges me until I’m straddling him with my back to the crowd. Resting my forehead on his, I take in his worried expression, guilt at my discernible weakness eating away at me. Lips pressed together in a tight line, Mik’s arms tighten around me, and he lets out a drawn-out sigh. “You’re a mess, Mo Ghrá. We need to get you back into therapy.”

As much as it pains me to admit how much I struggle without him, I nod my agreement.

“Therapy with Dr. Louise—” My man pauses, looking at me with eyes that twinkle with mischief. Lifting his hips, he rubs his hardening bulge against my core as he says, “And plenty of therapy from my cock.

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