Read Kilting Me Softly: 1 for Free Online

be a delusion, a byproduct of the requisite lunacy necessary to commit murder. Stunned, she stared at Conall McCade’s plastic photo ID until it blurred out of focus. “No—please, God, no.”
    Conall. Not Ciaran?
    She had to get out of the house.
    Had to.
    But before she could, the dead man groaned.

Chapter Three
     
    Conall came awake in a roar of pain. Because of the nearly full moon, he’d held back while he was with Morgan, not wanting to scare her with his primal responses. Now that he was in serious pain, however, he couldn’t be bothered to censor himself.
    Fuck, his chest hurt. Lifting his head a little, he nudged the pillow from his face and it fell backward onto the floor. Now he could assess the damage. A dagger protruded from his chest as if he were a human hors d’oeuvre. A mix of sweat and feminine juices glistened like morning dew on the patch of dark brown curls between his legs. The raging hard-on between his legs.
    Pretty little Morgan Keevy was to blame for all the above.
    Morgan Keevy, twin sister of Megan Keevy. Things were beginning to become clear to him now. It hadn’t been a coincidence that a beautiful woman picked him up in the pub. Rather, it was a woman hell-bent on revenge. She’d followed Ciaran all the way from Texas, for God’s sake.
    If only she knew Ciaran the way he did. He was sick, imbalanced but not capable of killing someone.
    Maybe it was the punctured flesh talking, but he couldn’t decide which was worse, her absence or the pain she left in her wake. This was a far cry from waking up together and the sweet yet awkward conversation he imagined they might have over the breakfast he would cook for her. And if he was lucky, round two. Minus the knife, that is.
    The grim reality of his situation did nothing to dilute the fire in his groin. She hadn’t even let him come. And he’d never wanted to come more than when he’d been balls deep inside her. His cock twitched at the thought of fucking her again.
    A sudden pang sent a sharp jolt of pain down his left side. The dagger above his heart.
    Oh yeah.
    My name is Morgan Keevy and I’ve come to kill you.
    That was what she said. Thank God she hadn’t.
    Scanning the bedroom, he searched for something he could use to free himself. It was no use. Even if he happened upon something, he would never be able to reach it. For some reason, his gaze kept returning to the closet. When his brother appeared abruptly from behind its doors, he understood why. He hoped he was delusional from blood loss.
    “Tsk, tsk, brother. What did I tell you about picking up strange women at the pub?”
    Conall went tense from head to toe. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he groaned inwardly. So he was perfectly lucid. His twin brother had indeed stepped out of the closet, all six foot six inches of him. He knew his size and shape well. It was exactly like his own, after all. Ciaran was a little bigger, a scant inch taller but every bit his spitting image. But their true distinction wasn’t physical.
    From birth, like most twins, they’d been inseparable. But at the first signs of puberty, things changed between them. Ciaran became antagonistic and withdrawn. When Conall excelled at something and Ciaran didn’t, Ciaran took it especially hard. Even worse, their father had made an obvious difference in them, favoring Conall over Ciaran for reasons Conall never understood. If Conall did well in school, Ciaran failed. When Conall made friends, Ciaran made enemies. Conall was everything Ciaran wasn’t. And at some point, Ciaran had accepted it, embraced it.
    Over the years, Ciaran became a shadow of his former self, Conall’s dark mirror. People began fearing him. It was as if he’d freed the wolf and caged the human. Conall encouraged his brother to travel in the hopes that it would calm some inner restlessness, but it hadn’t worked.
    “Ciaran. What the fuck, man?”
    Not surprisingly, his brother ignored him. “Though I must admit, you