Dangerously: A Femme Fatale romance by M. Never

Author:M. Never [Never, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

10

Declan

I wake up buck naked to the sound of birds chirping.

Looking around the room, I realize it’s not my own. Something either went terribly right last night or terribly wrong.

I sit up with only a mild head rush. My face hurts a bit, and my hands look a little worse for wear. I try to recall what happened, but only bits and pieces come back. Drinking, fighting, and Fallon. Undressing me? Where is she? Where is Aisling? Where the hell am I?

I get to my feet and wobble across the hall to my bedroom. Oy, shit-ass whiskey. I rub my forehead. Hits like a hammer every single time.

I pull on a pair sweatpants only after realizing Aisling isn’t sleeping in her pack ‘n play. A sense of panic hits, and I rush out of the room.

“Fallon? Aisling?” I stop short when I see them sleeping on the loveseat. I bend over, resting my hands on my knees with an overwhelming wave of relief. My girls . . . my girls are safe.

Then I appreciate exactly what I’m seeing. My girls. That’s right. They are mine. I sit quietly on the recliner and just watch them sleep. It looks like such a perfect picture. So peaceful, so sweet. If I were a man who wished for things, this is what it would be for. Fallon as my wife, raising my child as her own.

What a fucking fantasy, aye?

Two cold-blooded killers living the American dream? Could you see that? Can you picture it? I sure as hell can’t. No, this is as close as I’ll ever get to happiness. Or normalcy. One single, quiet moment of what could have been.

Fallon stirs, making sure to keep Aisling comfortable.

“You two look cozy.” I cross my arms and lean back in the recliner.

“We are.” Fallon nuzzles her face in Aisling’s dark hair. I’m not one to get all gooey, but seeing her take to Aisling turns me into a puddle of puréed delight. “She had a fever last night. That’s why she was so cranky.”

I sit up. “What?”

“Don't worry. I took care of both of you.” She pats Aisling’s back.

“So I have noticed.”

“She’s going to need more medicine when she wakes up.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“How are you feeling?” Fallon asks, her hair falling over her eye.

I stand and walk over to them. Crouching, I tuck the copper strand behind Fallon’s ear. “Never better.”

“You were pretty crushed last night. I didn’t think you’d be up till dinner.”

“Takes more than an entire bottle of cheap whiskey to keep me down.”

“I’m realizing,” she speaks softly.

“Do you want me to take her and put her to bed?”

“I’m afraid to move her.”

I peek at Aisling’s face. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s drooling on Fallon's shoulder. “I’m willing to risk it.”

“Your funeral.”

“I’m not scared.” I’ve come to know Aisling’s sleep patterns pretty well. And when she drools, she’s out cold. A freight train speeding through the room couldn’t wake her.

I lift Aisling out of Fallon’s arms and tiptoe into my bedroom, where I place her down.

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