"Irish!"
Zayden was panting as he entered Irish's house, his eyes immediately scanning the surroundings. The sight before him made his heart race. Irish was sitting on the floor, clutching her injured arm.
Zayden held his breath. Irish looked disheveled. Her clothes were torn, nearly falling off, and her black bra was clearly visible beneath the tattered fabric. Meanwhile, Irish looked pale, her face filled with fear.
No! This wasn't the time to think about that. Zayden pushed away the strange feeling stirring inside him as he caught glimpses of Irish's alluring body through her torn clothes.
"Irish!" Zayden knelt beside her, his hands cupping her face anxiously. "What happened?"
Irish sobbed, her eyes filled with terror. "Someone tried to rob me. He almost killed me, Uncle Zayden. Luckily, a neighbor helped me. I was so scared. He might come back."
Zayden's heart ached at her words. He pulled Irish into a tight embrace, trying to calm her trembling. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here now."
Irish clung to him desperately, as if she never wanted to let go. "But, Uncle, what if he comes back? My window's broken… I don't feel safe here anymore..."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything," Zayden said softly but firmly. "Come with me now. Let my people handle your house."
He took off his jacket and draped it over Irish's trembling shoulders. Without another word, he carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her outside to his car.
"I have a safe place. Until your house is fixed, you should stay there. It's much more secure." Zayden spoke gently, his eyes full of concern as he looked at Irish.
After carefully settling her into the passenger seat, he double-checked her seatbelt.
His movements were tender, filled with care, as if he didn't want to hurt her in the slightest. Yet, despite her fragile appearance, there was something in Irish's gaze that stirred something deep within him—something that made Zayden feel responsible for her in a way he shouldn't.
Irish lowered her head, her eyes still slightly red from crying earlier.
"I'm sorry, Uncle. I know this is wrong. I'm causing you trouble when we barely know each other. I must seem so shameless in your eyes."
Zayden gently lifted her chin with his thumb. "Don't say that. I don't feel troubled at all, Irish. Don't hesitate to call me if you need help. I'm here for you." His voice was deeper than usual, filled with warmth meant to erase the worry on Irish's face.
Irish bit her lower lip, trying to suppress the anxiety overwhelming her. "No, Uncle. I don't want to make things worse. Maybe… this should be the last time. I promise I won't bother you again."
Zayden looked at her with understanding, though his heart felt the same turmoil. He knew these emotions were more complicated than either of them could admit.
"Irish…" Zayden leaned closer, his voice softer, more intimate. "I understand how you feel. I don't want to make things harder either. But we can't control what's in our hearts, can we?"
Irish stared at him with an unreadable expression—partly pleased that her act was working, partly guilty for dragging a stranger into her revenge.
"I'd rather suffer from longing, Uncle, than be the one who ruins everything. I know what I feel could make things worse."
A tear rolled down Irish's cheek, and Zayden felt an overwhelming urge to pull her closer. This woman was so fragile, so in need of protection, and Zayden felt like he was the only one who could give it to her.
Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, feeling the heat of Irish's body.
He couldn't hold back anymore. His hand rose, gently brushing Irish's cheek before his fingers traced her lips.
As if drawn by an invisible force, Zayden leaned in, their lips meeting in a searing kiss.
He felt the burning warmth as their lips touched, his tongue teasing hers with slow, deliberate strokes. His teeth grazed her lower lip, pulling it into a passionate, hungry kiss. Every movement was deep, filled with pent-up desire.
"I've been suffering from longing too, Irish…" Zayden whispered against her ear, his voice thick with need. He trailed sensual kisses down to her neck, leaving wet, red marks in his wake.
"Uncle…" Irish gasped, her breath hitching as his kisses traveled lower.
Zayden pulled her tighter, struggling to control his ragged breathing. There was something so powerful inside him—something that refused to let him pull away.
He knew this was dangerous, yet at the same time, it was exactly what he wanted.
"Let's get your hand treated. I'll call a doctor," Zayden said, his voice laced with worry as he reluctantly pulled away, glancing at the car's dashboard as if blaming everything else for keeping them apart.
"My hand can wait, but my longing for you can't!" Irish replied with a mischievous smile, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaping onto Zayden's lap, clinging to him like a koala.
Her light weight surprised him, but he quickly adjusted, holding her securely. Their eyes locked, and without another word, their lips crashed together in another fiery kiss.
Zayden's hands slid down Irish's waist, pulling her closer, pressing her harder against him.
Irish bit her lip, letting the kiss deepen, grow more intoxicating, as if time had stopped just for them.
Zayden's fingers traced her curves, from her chest to her waist, exploring every inch of her with restrained hunger. The tension between them was electric, impossible to ignore.
Without breaking the kiss, Zayden trailed his lips down Irish's chest, his hot breath sending shivers through her.
"Uncle Zayden!" Irish clutched his head tightly, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"I've missed you so much," Zayden murmured between kisses. "Your scent… it always makes me lose control."
Irish let out a soft, breathy laugh. "I've missed you too, Zayden..."
Zayden pulled back slightly, gazing at her with a playful glint in his eyes. "I prefer it when you call me by my name."
"But I like calling you Uncle," Irish whispered, pulling his head back to her chest with a sly smile. "It's so much sexier."