“Funny, I thought I was the one taking care of you and your cats now,” I said, leaning forward. There was something about him that made me want to stay close. That comfort he’d so easily given me. The size and strength of him. Maybe he was onto something about collecting cats because here I was curled up on his leg.

He looked at me with no expression, not responding to my flirting. Finally, he reached up and cradled my face again. My heart skipped a beat.

“I’m sorry, Lacey.”

“What for?” I asked, swallowing. I was nervous about what this was about, something he did, was about to do?

“I should have seen what Puca’s intentions were. I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, his words laced with sincerity. I was flabbergasted. No one protected me. No one thought I needed it and so they didn’t bother offering it. I didn’t realize how I wanted to know and hear that someone would protect me.

“Okay,” I said. Dullahan’s eyes flicked to my mouth and then away.

“Best get you settled in your room. Get up,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Not yet,” I said, leaning forward and pressing my breasts into his body. His hand immediately smoothed over my hips and settled on the small of my back, holding me to him.

“The contract. Let’s seal the deal,” I said while staring at his lips. I looked up into his eyes and smiled. “With a kiss.”

“Hmm, quite an antiquated way to bargain.” He pushed his large hand into my hair, cradling the back of my head. His other hand stayed settled on my lower back, large and warm. I sucked in a breath at how quickly he accepted and took charge. I thought he might act shy or say no. There was no such hesitation as he pulled me to his mouth and destroyed me with a kiss. It was rough but warm. Fierce but delightful. He overpowered me with his rough, scarred lips and forceful tongue.

I melted in his lap, nearly forgetting what this was really about. Dullahan didn’t give half-assed kisses. He didn’t at all—his hand in my hair and tongue in my mouth, his large body everywhere, enveloping me in his overwhelming presence. I was kissing the headless horseman. The terror of Ireland, the ilk of the sidhe. The monster they hissed scary stories of to adults and children alike. That if he found you alone in the night you’d be dragged to hell. That he was Death himself. That he—

I whined against his mouth as the kiss grew even deeper, his mouth shaping to mine, his tongue dragging desire from me.

“Stop,” I finally said, pulling away entirely because a different fear gripped me. That I’d grow attached. It would be so easy with him, I realized with shock. Far too easy. He had everything. The danger, the strength, the thrill, the comfort, and the protection. And kisses that made me question my decisions.