6. Nova
Chapter six
Nova
I f you asked me why I decided to text Cillian, I would tell you it was because I was out of my mind. At least, it felt that way when he didn’t respond at first. Not like I gave him much of a chance before bombarding him with my embarrassment.
We shared a night a month ago. A night where nothing really happened between us. It’s not as though we shared some passionate moment. I only felt the brush of his lips once during our game and then again when he said good night, but damn, I wish I would have felt a lot more. It would have been more if whoever called him hadn’t interrupted and brought both of us back to reality. It would have been a bad idea to pursue anything further. If I’d had him in my bed that night, it wouldn’t have done either of us any good. Well, it probably would have done both of us a lot of good several times over, but not in the long run. I’m still not clear on why he was here to begin with, but it doesn’t matter, I doubt the Irish mob has a remote field office set up in New Orleans, and I’m not interested in some long-distance romance.
But there’s something about the way Cillian looked at me that night that I can’t get out of my head, which is far beyond status quo for me. I don’t obsess over looks and soft touches. I don’t get tongue-tied, or in this case text-tied, over men. My dating past is lackluster to say the least. Maybe I’ve never prioritized relationships—or I’ve prioritized the wrong ones. That full smile he gave me at the end of the night has played on a loop and has me thinking of things I never considered before, wanting things I have no business wanting…
Jesus, what am I even talking about? No one said anything about having any sort of romantic relationship. I mean, him living so far away definitely takes the pressure off…and here I go again. It was one night. I probably imagined the looks he was sending me and the way I reacted to his closeness.
Yes, that’s why I texted him. To convince myself it was all in my head and there wasn’t some insane spark of chemistry that I don’t ever remember feeling with anyone else. I certainly didn’t expect him to be in New Orleans today or to want to see me. In reality, I saw the poster for the band we saw playing at the same bar, and the temptation was too strong to resist like I had so many times before. Then, when I put on the wig and was ready to head out to work as Charity, I thought about the look of recognition—and dare I say, amusement—when he caught me trying to sneak out of Geraldine’s. The way he wore a little smile for most of the night, the corner of his lips quirked upward. How he finally let loose with a full, wide smile and that laugh. God, that was a good sound.
So I threw caution to the wind and texted him. Then immediately regretted it. You’d think with all the technology out there they’d have come up with a way to unsend texts in cases of total and complete mortification. But no. Instead, I went and decided to try to explain away my reaching out, like that was going to make anything better.
Turns out, I didn’t have to worry. Cillian made a few vague attempts at showing me his interest the first night we met, but I’d chalked it up to being in the moment and nothing more. Maybe I shouldn’t have. It’s not like I held out hope to see him again. Goes to show what I know.
After working three restaurants and a bar tonight, I head over to the local venue where the band is playing. I stopped at Geraldine’s to change since Harper was working, and I didn’t have to deal with Damon or go home before meeting Cillian. When she poured me the whiskey 7 I desperately needed before meeting up with Cillian, we chatted for a couple minutes, but she was distracted with the new guy she’d been dating for the last week who stopped in with a couple friends to say hi. After waving hello to her new man and his group, I left Geraldine’s to make my way to a certain bar with a certain guy for a date I’m still ridiculously nervous about. No, not date . He didn’t say anything about a date. Just two people who had a fun night together getting together again for some more fun. Jesus, I sound like a complete imbecile.
Now, I’m standing in front of a bar, too chicken shit to go in.
Thoughts are tumbling through my head, making me nearly dizzy with anxiety. What if I built him up in my memory and am sorely let down when I see him again? What if he thinks the same about me? What if the connection I felt was a figment of my imagination? What if it wasn’t? I have plans in the works to get me out of New Orleans and get me closer to that little beach bar. My plans certainly don’t include a six-two lieutenant for the Irish mob. Then why did you text him? That’s an excellent question and one I don’t have an answer for—except to tell the little voice asking it to shut the hell up. It was a moment of weakness, then excitement, that he was in town and wanted to see me.
Alright, Nova. Time to put on your big-girl panties and walk into the damn bar.
I take a few steps toward the brick building and hear the band playing from the front door. Stepping into the crowded space, I look toward the bar. Sitting in a seat with his back turned toward me is Cillian. I take a moment to drink in the muscles of his back and shoulders that are visible even through his shirt. He lifts what I’m assuming is a drink from the bar and tilts his head back in a quick movement like he’s taking a shot. Maybe I’m not the only one who needs a little liquid courage tonight.
Cillian turns his entire body around in the stool he’s sitting on and locks eyes with me from across the room. The half smile he wore for most of the night we spent in each other’s company last time sits on his perfect lips while he studies me with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Now I know I wasn’t making up how damn gorgeous this man is in my head. His blue-gray eyes sparkle with amusement as I make my way through the crowd until I'm standing in front of him.
“Was wondering if you were going to make your way in or not,” he says, drinking me in like I did to him before he spotted me.
“I’m not that late.”
“No, but I saw you standing out there for at least five minutes before you walked in here. You afraid I bite?”
More like hoping he does.
I shake my head, my eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Does nothing escape your attention?”
He shrugs. “Not usually, no.”
“How about the fact that I don’t have a drink?”
Cillian turns toward the bar and hands me a glass. “Whiskey 7. I had him use the Irish whiskey this time. Though I think it should only be drunk straight or on the rocks.”
I sip the delicious cocktail, then tilt my lip in a smirk. “It’s early. This is just my warm-up.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended that you need to be lubricated to spend an evening with me.” His throaty chuckle sounds over the music playing, and it does a certain something to my insides.
“I’m perfectly happy to spend the evening sober, but it looked like you needed a little something too, if the shot I saw you take when I walked through the door was any indication.”
“You don’t seem to miss much either.”
“Part of the job, I guess.”
I slide into the seat next to Cillian, causing our legs to brush against each other. The heat from his thigh instantly seeps through the tight jeans I’m wearing—the ones that happen to make my ass look fantastic. Not that I wore them for him or anything.
“So, how was work, dear?” he asks, sending me a little wink.
“It was a good night. So good, in fact, drinks are on me.”
“Not in this life,” he replies, shaking his head. “I invited you out. Therefore, I’m paying.”
I could argue, but I have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t do me any good, so I nod instead, then turn around in the stool to watch the band.
They begin playing the song I was dancing to the first night Cillian and I were here. When he gets up and stands in front of me, holding out his hand, I shoot him a questioning look.
“Dance with me,” he says, a smile gracing his way too gorgeous face.
“I thought you didn’t dance.”
He shrugs but doesn’t put his hand down. “You made it look so fun last time, I thought I’d give it a shot. What, you afraid I’ll step on your toes?”
I look down at the black wedge sandals I paired with my outfit and move my foot in a circle. “I’d hate to have my shoes ruined.”
“Live on the edge a little,” he replies with a smirk.
“That’s all I do.” We stare at each other for a few moments, the tension growing thick between us. It’s just a dance, for God’s sake. “Okay, fine.”
I take his hand and he leads us to the middle of the makeshift dance floor with everyone else. When he turns to face me, he pulls me into his body, covering one of my hands against his chest with his own and sliding his other arm around my waist. It’s not a particularly fast song, but we sway to the smooth beat, never taking our eyes off each other. The rest of the room disappears. Cillian’s distinct scent of cedar and bergamot envelops me as he holds me close. His stormy gaze is just as intense as I remember, but right now, I can barely think of anything other than the way the heat from his body is pressing into me or the feel of his heartbeat under my hand. It’s thumping hard and fast, like mine. Yeah, there’s no way I simply imagined this chemistry.
When I lift my hand to the back of his neck and gently scrape my nails over the short hair, he inhales a sharp breath before his hand flexes around my waist, pulling me tighter to his front. It’s like we’re picking up right where we left off a month ago. Except this time, I’m hoping to God, the devil, or any deity that will listen that he doesn’t take me home and leave me with nothing more than a good-night kiss on the cheek. If the heat in his gaze is anything to go by, I’d say that isn’t in his plans for the rest of the night.
“My flight is supposed to leave in the morning,” he says, still swaying to the music. The song has changed, but we’re still moving together, never missing a beat.
“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure where this is going.
“But I can change it.”
Oh.
“Change is good.” What does that even mean? I swear my brain is turning to mush with him pressed against me.
His deep chuckle vibrates through me.
“You seem to have that effect on me. Have me changing the way I usually do things.”
“How’s that?” My voice is so low and breathy; it’s amazing he hears me over the music. But just like the first time we met, Cillian and I find ourselves in our own little bubble where we’re the only people who exist.
“Well, normally when I come to New Orleans, I don’t leave my room except for whatever meeting I’m here for. I certainly don’t go to bars or dance with beautiful women on a random Tuesday night.”
“But you dance with women on other not-so-random nights?”
He stares into my eyes, picking up on what I’m really asking. Not that it matters. There’s no expectation of a relationship here.
“Not in a while. I’ve had this raven-haired thief running circles in my mind. Can’t seem to get rid of her.”
“Must be tough.”
“Only because I can’t make any promises or plans for a future, but fuck, I wish I could.”
“Maybe she isn’t interested in any of that. Maybe she’s perfectly willing to take what you can give when you can give it. Not everything has to be about a future. Maybe she wants to live in the now and not worry about the rest of that shit.”
Cillian tilts his head down so our lips are barely a breath apart. “Maybe.”
I close the small gap between us and crash my lips to his. The taste of his whiskey invades my mouth when Cillian’s tongue plunges in, teasing and twirling with mine. This kiss is everything I spent the last month imagining it would be. Cillian kisses with his whole body, his hands roughly moving over my back before one lands just above my ass and the other tangles in the back of my hair, pressing my body tighter against his. When I let out a quiet moan, he rips his mouth from mine and presses his forehead against mine, his chest heaving with every inhale before a rough exhale.
“Fuck, Nova. I wish we weren’t in the middle of a bar right now.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Same place I always do. About twenty minutes from here.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
Cillian stares into my eyes for a few brief moments as though he’s thinking something over in his head before he nods and steps away from me, grabbing my hand and hauling ass out the front door.
“Wait, what about your tab?” I ask before an excited and uncharacteristically girlish laugh bursts from me.
He chuckles as he walks up to his car and unlocks it then opens the door for me. “You’re worried about me skipping out on a tab right now?”
I step around the door to sit in the passenger seat. “Well, I like this bar. I don’t want to be eighty-sixed for not paying. The bartender will have to pay for our drinks.”
“I paid before you got here. Though, I do find it amusing how worried you are for the bartender.”
I give Cillian a small smile as I slide into the plush leather interior of his black rental car. “What can I say? They make an honest living.”
“You’re something else, Nova.” Cillian shuts the door then walks around the hood of the car. As soon as he gets in the driver’s side, he leans over and grabs me by the back of my head, slamming his lips to mine. I lean into the kiss as best I can, considering there’s a center console blocking me.
“Fuck, this is going to be the longest twenty minutes of my life,” Cillian states when he tears his mouth from mine and starts the car.
“Let’s see if you can make it there in ten.”
“What do I get if I do?”
“I think you know what we both get when we get there. Let’s see if we can get to it faster.”
“Works for me,” he replies, peeling away from the curb and flooring it down the street as I let out a yelp of surprise, followed by another excited laugh.
“Thirteen minutes. Not bad,” I tell Cillian when we park in front of the swanky hotel he’s staying at. The valet walks to my side of the door and opens it for me before another valet opens Cillian’s car door and hands him a ticket when Cillian hands over the keys.
“Not like I could mow over the group of pedestrians at that stop sign,” he says, grabbing my hand to pull me through the doors of the hotel.
I let out a low whistle while taking in the giant marble fountain and expensive flower arrangements covering nearly every surface. I look up and gawk at the glass cathedral ceiling throughout the entire lobby. “Jesus, it must pay well to be in the mob.”
“I do alright for myself,” Cillian says with a wink before stopping at the elevator and swiping a card in front of the reader.
When the door opens, he quickly pulls me inside and presses me against the mirrored wall of the elevator. His mouth crashes against mine as he holds both of my hands over my head, pinning me to the wall.
“There’s probably cameras in here.” My voice comes out as a breathless moan as Cillian works his lips down the column of my neck.
“Don’t give a fuck,” he replies before his lips find mine again.
Honestly, neither do I. I’ve never felt so damn needy and out of control in my entire life. I’m no blushing virgin, but the way Cillian makes me feel is completely out of the realm of anything I’ve ever experienced. From the way his mouth consumes mine to the feel of his hands pressing mine to the wall of the elevator. There’s something to be said for feeling trapped in this kiss with him as though if I wanted to escape I couldn’t. Not that I would ever want to.
There’ve been a few times in my life when I’ve felt this kind of passion from someone. But it has never been coupled with a burning desperation like the way it feels with Cillian. I may live a certain type of unconventional lifestyle, but I’ve always maintained control and never allowed myself to get swept away in whatever this is. But holy hell, if I’m not one-hundred-percent ready to throw all that control away for a chance to spend the night wrapped up in him.
The doors open, and Cillian breaks the kiss before letting go of my hands then gripping just under my ass. When he lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist and my hands grasp his shoulders. It feels as though fire is running through my veins. I’m burning from the inside out and so fucking desperate to get into his hotel room. In four long strides we’re at the door to his room, and he pulls out the key card to open it. Our lips meet in another brutal kiss the moment the door opens, just before he steps through. Once on the other side, he kicks the door closed, and I’m spun around against the wood before he rips his mouth away and presses his forehead to mine.
“You make me feel so goddamn out of control,” he pants as I grind myself against him.
“Same.” I don’t know why he affects every cell in my body this way, but I’m also not going to question it too much right now.
“This isn’t something I usually do.”
“You mean you don’t have a woman in every port?”
Cillian huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Hardly. Until a month ago, I’d barely seen anything other than the port here and this hotel.”
I take the opportunity to let my gaze wander around the room. There’s a couch in the center, a small oak desk against one wall, and a giant television on the opposite wall. Then, I spot a door that I’m assuming leads to a bedroom. Directly in front of us is a large window with the curtains open. The twinkling lights of New Orleans shine through the window. From what I can tell, the suite is huge. Lots of available surfaces.
“You sprang for a suite. For some reason, I would have imagined you in a little hotel room with a bed and not much else.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” he says, bringing his lips to my shoulder where my shirt has slipped down.
“You don’t have to impress me, you know?”
“I did it for me. I like the view from here and wanted to see you naked with New Orleans behind you.” He spins me around and carries me to the window before setting me on my feet. “You and New Orleans will always be interconnected in my mind, Nova. I need to watch you come undone with the city behind you.”
I mean, how could I possibly argue with that logic?
Cillian rips my shirt over my head and tosses it behind him before his lips find my peaked nipple under the fabric of my pink lace bra. He sucks hard through the fabric and the scrape of his teeth, along with the lace, sends a shot of warm tingles down my spine. Cillian kisses his way down my body as he lowers to his knees in front of me. The cool glass against my back is such a stark contrast to the feel of his hot tongue as he licks and sucks all the skin on display. I’d say it’s helping with the raging inferno that my body has become, but I’d be lying. Every kiss—every sweep of his tongue—sets off little explosions deep inside of me. Honestly, I’m a little worried at this point. There’s no way this can be normal, right?
When his lips find the waist of my jeans, he lifts his head and spears me with his dark gaze as he removes my sandals. His fingers find the zipper of my pants, and too fucking slowly, he pulls the tab down. The sound of my zipper coming undone is loud in the otherwise quiet hotel room, ratcheting up the tension tenfold.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I breathe out, and all he does is give me one of his half smiles.
When he has the zipper open, he yanks my pants down my thighs. I have no idea how I’m still standing at this point. Having this man on his knees before me is a sight I’ve fantasized about plenty of times, but to see it real and in person is on a whole other level that even my dirtiest fantasies couldn’t have conjured. He holds my stare a few more moments while he strokes the seam of my pussy with his fingers. When he glances down, a wide smile stretches across his face.
“You’re so wet for me. I can’t wait to taste you.”
“No one here is stopping you,” I tell him, my voice shaking with anticipation.
Cillian doesn’t wait another second before his tongue takes a long lick through my center. When he groans, my knees buckle, and I nearly fall to the floor. He lifts my leg over his shoulder so that some of my weight is balanced on him.
“Stay.” He dives back in and begins eating at me like a man starved and the only thing that will satiate him is my pussy.
“Yes, sir,” I breathe out, grabbing his hair as he absolutely devours me. I’m no wilting wallflower, and this isn’t the first time I’ve had a man go down on me, but holy shit. The way Cillian uses his entire mouth with his teeth scraping over my clit to be soothed by his tongue moments later over and over is nothing I’ve felt before. It’s barely been a minute, and I feel the orgasm building already. There’s nothing slow and steady as I erupt into his mouth. I don’t have to concentrate on the sensations as they’ve overtaken every part of me. My hands clamp into fists, and my fingers pull at the strands of his hair so forcefully I’m sure he’s going to have two matching bald spots as I let out a shout of pleasure so loud I’m afraid the people walking on the sidewalk below are going to hear me.
Cillian follows me down, his licks becoming softer and more languid as I catch the breath that was stolen from my lungs.
He looks up at me from his kneeling position with a wet grin covering his face.
“That’s one. You’re getting an orgasm for every time I had to fist my cock to the memory of you dancing in that bar the first night we met.”
“How many times was that?”
“Considering it’s been a month since I’ve seen you last, neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you changed your flight then.” My voice is breathy as a result of the postorgasmic haze, and I have a feeling it won’t be clearing tonight.
“Good thing. Now turn around so I can watch your ass as I fuck you from behind against the window.”