Chapter 13 Ciarán
thirteen-Ciarán
I was stretched out on my back, staring at the ceiling fan, watching the slow, hypnotic rotation of the blades.
My fists were still sore from earlier. Tyrell and Lila had been blowing my shit up all night, probably trying to do damage control.
I knew that video was already everywhere.
Twitter. Shade Room. All that. I didn’t give a fuck.
I’d do it again if it meant Jordin was safe.
But she hadn’t said much since we got home. Not a word, really. That shit was eating at me. Because her quiet left too much space for my own thoughts to get loud. Was she replaying all that had happened in her head and seeing me for what I was—just another volatile nigga? Was she scared of me?
Suddenly the door creaked open, but I didn’t move.
I knew it was her. I watched as she crossed the carpeted floor, soft as a whisper.
The bed dipped under her weight, and then she slid next to me, laying her head on my chest. Her palm slid beneath my shirt, her fingers stretching wide over my stomach, just resting there.
Her skin was warm. Silky. My heart was kicking against my ribs so loud I was sure she could feel it. But all my negative thoughts vanished.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For protecting me.”
My hand settled on her lower back. She was in a little silk set—shorts and a matching top. I could smell the cocoa butter still clinging to her skin. I was trying to act like I had some self-control, but my dick wasn’t hearing it.
“You don’t gotta thank me for that, J. I’ma always protect you.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “But don’t do it again.”
I huffed out a dry laugh. “I’ll do it again.”
“I know, because you violent,” she said, her voice softening again. “That’s the problem with you.”
She started tracing little circles on my six-pack with her fingertips, like she was trying to work up to whatever she was holding back.
“Just say what you want to say, Jordin,” I muttered. “You over there thinking too loud.”
She sucked her teeth long and hard. “You don’t know me.”
“Better than you want me to,” I said, my voice low.
“Whatever,” she said, brushing past it. “I want better than tonight for you, Ciarán.”
I turned my head toward her, snapping before I could stop myself. “The fuck does that mean?”
“It means you ain’t gotta be angry all the time,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow.
Her eyes met mine and my anger dissipated.
“You have more to give than the rage people expect from you. I’ve seen it.
And I like that side of you. But if you keep letting that other part of you take the wheel, it’s going to catch up with you.
And I don’t want to be around to watch that, because I care. ”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how. Because she was right. But it wasn’t as simple as she was making it out to be. I wouldn’t be the way I am if I knew how to control it. But for her... for the promise of more nights like this, I was willing to learn.
She continued. “I need you to promise me something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Control your temper,” she said. “Promise me you’ll start learning how to breathe through that shit.”
“J…”
“If you want me to come back after mediation,” she said, brushing her thumb across my heart, “then you’re gonna have to meet me halfway.
I’ll come back and stay one more uninterrupted month.
Here. With you. I’ll stay. I’ll cook. I’ll lay up like this every night so you sleep all cuddled up like you like.
But you gotta try, Ciarán. Even when I leave. ”
I sat up a little, forcing her to lay flat against me. My hand slid under her top, spreading wide over her back.
“You bribing me with your presence and oxtail and shrimp grits?”
She smiled against my chest. “And cornbread. And that peach cobbler you liked.”
“No pussy?” I teased.
She pinched my side, hard enough to make me jump. “No pussy for a crash-out. Just control your temper.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. “Imagine it. A whole month. Just us. No distractions. No one touching me but you, but no sex.” She laughed.
I rolled, pinning her beneath me in one swift motion, caging her with my arms. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look scared. She looked excited.
“Fine,” I said, dipping my head to nip at her bottom lip. “I promise.”
She smiled up at me, a real, triumphant smile that did something to my chest.
“Good,” she murmured. “But I was coming back anyway. Living with you has been like a little vacation I didn’t know I needed. But I’m definitely gonna need another month after dealing with Oak’s dramatic ass.”
She pushed me off. I lay next to her again, her body melted into mine. I smirked but said nothing. I didn’t want to talk about her husband, divorce or not.
Eventually, her breathing slowed, and I realized one, she’d drifted off and two, this was the first time sharing a bed on purpose. I let myself close my eyes, too.