Chapter 13 #3
According to people I’ve worked with, when they experience adrenaline, their thoughts blur. It makes them frantic. But the opposite has always been true for me. Sure, my heart races and my muscles tense, but everything gets very, very clear. My thoughts. My perception. My next move.
Catriona’s golden head bobs through the crowd.
I stick close, prowling, always her predator.
One who’d sink their teeth in her, if given the chance.
She moves quickly, but not so fast that she’ll cause any unsavory attention.
She can keep her cool with anyone else. But when she’s with me? It’s like she can’t help herself.
I seriously consider calling the entire party off. She’s with a man I don’t recognize. I reason with myself that it could be anyone. It’s a party, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t mean anything. He hands her a drink, and she smiles at him.
Smiles.
At him.
The bounds of my jealousy are apparently nonexistent because the mere sight of her with another man has me crossing the room, threading through well-wishers like a bull, and she’s my red flag.
Just before I reach her, she spots me over the shoulder of her companion.
Her eyes bulge, and she hisses something.
The man gives her a sharp nod before leaving.
I glare at his back until Catriona stalks to me, grabs me by the arm, and tugs me to an empty balcony.
Classical music spills from the party, but out here, we’re cocooned in secrets and shadows.
“Who was that?” I ask the moment the doors close behind us.
“None of your business,” she snaps.
“You’re my wife. Everything about you is my business.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m allowed to have conversations with people who aren’t you.”
“Then why is it such a big deal to tell me who it was, unless you have something to hide?”
“I don’t have something to hide. I just don’t feel like I need to tell you every little detail of my life. Didn’t you just say I wasn’t supposed to put my nose where it doesn’t belong? Maybe you should take some of your own advice.”
“It’s different when we’re supposed to be showing the party what a perfect couple we are. I can’t have you draping yourself over another man.”
“I’m not doing this with you. We have to go back inside for pictures. That would make us look like the perfect husband and wife, right?”
“We’re not going anywhere until you answer my question.”
“You are such an asshole.”
“I’m still waiting, darlin’. I have all night.”
She scoffs. “Fine. That man? His name is Devin Franklin. My dad’s head of security. There. Are you happy? Can we go back inside now? You’re making a big deal about nothing.”
I grab her arm as she moves to go around me, and she whirls, jerking it out of my grasp. Her mask of indifference slips, just a little, but it’s enough for me to note the mounting frustration.
“No, you can’t go back inside. Why were you talking to him? What’s the big secret?”
“Jesus, get a grip. Just because I have your ring on my finger and we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
“I’m afraid that’s exactly what it means. Or do I need to remind you?” She stills, and my blood flashes hot.
“No, you’ve made it perfectly clear what you expect.”
I herd her into the wall, one hand at her belly, the other braced beside her.
“Are you trying to make me jealous? Because those kinds of petty games won’t work on me.”
Catriona leans in a fraction, a shark scenting blood. “Sure seems like it’s working on you. What’s the matter? Daydreaming about having me begging for you again?”
My mouth goes so dry I can’t respond.
“Because it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever let you near me.”
“If you really want to know what hell is like, bhean chéile, let another man touch what’s mine.”
“I am not yours,” she bites out, eyes glittering and hand tightening around the flute of champagne at her side.
“That’s not what you said the last time my cock was inside you. Remember?”
Her breath stutters against my lips. “Hardly.”
“Need a reminder? How long do you think it would take me to get you off, hmm?” I tilt my head down, skin heating as I reacquaint myself with the curves of her body. My voice lowers of its own volition. “Does it ache for me, love?”
She takes a sip from her champagne, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she sounded indifferent to my interrogation. Men twice her size have withered at less. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot. “Please,” she says. “The only thing I feel for you is revulsion.”
“Is that right?”
Her eyes bounce between mine like she can’t look away. “That’s right. You hate that, don’t you? You hate how much you want me. That’s why you can’t seem to stay away from me,” she taunts.
The haughty smirk falters when I don’t give in to an angry tirade. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“I think maybe you’re having issues with your English. You don’t seem to understand the definition of hypocritical.”
“Yet you’re the one who melts the moment I touch you. I think you’re the one who can’t stay away from me. After all, you crashed my wedding because you couldn’t stand to see me marry someone else.”
A furrow pinches between her brows, which smooths as quickly as it appears.
“Is that what you want? For me to admit that I want you? That I care about you?” At her words, my body sways closer, an answer even though I haven’t said anything.
Her lips tilt up, and she lifts a hand to my cheek, slapping it lightly.
“Well, you can keep hoping and waiting, O’Connor. That’s never going to happen.”
“That’s not what it seemed like when you came all over my face. I bet you’re wet for me right now, aren’t you?” I grip the dress at her thigh and ruck the material up until I find skin. Her fingers claw at me, but I’m stronger. “Always such a slut for me.”
Her hand is up and cracking against my cheek, this time in earnest. My head whips to the side, face already stinging. She’s the personification of fury and defiance when I look back at her.
It’s not until seconds later that I realize the sound of music has swelled. The doors are open.
Rory and Elizabeth spill out onto the balcony seconds later, followed by more people, cameras raised and lights flashing as they take pictures.