Chapter 15 #2
The spark that’s been simmering since the start roars to life.
My hands find his chest without thinking, meaning to push, but they linger.
His heartbeat pounds against my palms, a violent rhythm that makes my stomach twist as I’m sinking into him.
No. Not again. The thought slices through the haze, sharp and cold. My jaw tightens, and I bite down hard.
He jerks back with a hiss, his grip loosening. The taste of copper blooms on my tongue, metallic and real dragging me back to myself. Our breaths are ragged. Cyan stares at me half-furious, half-smirking.
“Do that again and I’ll bite off your fucking tongue.”
Cyan’s grin is all teeth, blood flecking his mouth.
“Careful, Aria.” I ignore him. My hand snaps up to slap him, but he’s ready and takes hold of my wrist before my palm lands.
My pulse thunders in my ears; my hands shake in his hold.
I open my mouth to scream, to spit something vicious.
Then his other hand is at my throat, and his mouth is on mine, his tongue hunting mine like a dare.
Fuck him. I give him what he wants. I bite down, but this time he doesn’t jerk away.
He takes it, uses it, like possession made flesh.
Victory flashes through me—wicked, stupid, hot—as he finally pulls away.
There’s a sliver of blood on his bottom lip.
Before I can settle on the feeling of winning this round, his fingers clamp around my chin, rough and possessive, hauling my face until his thumb drags over my mouth, smearing his blood across my lips as if marking them.
The logical part of me screams, warning, get as far away as I can.
The rest of me leans in, intoxicated by the sharp edge of him, by the thrill of touching fire and not burning.
“Oh, lass, what a pair we make.” His brogue is thick and deliberate. A reminder that he’s not a man to be denied.
“Like I said, I’m not yours. I had an itch, and you scratched it.”
Cyan drags his hand through my curls, tumbling down my back. Fuck, I just fixed it too... glaring at him, hating that my pulse skips at his touch. He leans in, his breath brushing my ear. “You can say you’re not mine all you want, lass. But we both know those are lying words.”
A sharp exhale escapes my lips, trembling with barely contained fury. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch.”
His eyes narrow. “Careful, Aria. I’ve killed men for less.
” I freeze, realizing my words had gone too far.
Cyan takes a calming breath. “Now go back to your spreadsheets. We’re done here for now, lass.
..” Gulping, not waiting for another invitation, I turn to leave.
“Aye, Aria, tell your aunt hello for me when you speak with her later.” I didn’t miss the veiled threat in his words.
I force my legs to move pushing open the door and step out of the car.
.. My legs tremble as I hit the sidewalk.
“One more thing, Dove.” His words stop me again.
“I’ve assigned you a driver. His name is Johnny.
From today, he’ll drop you off and pick you up.
He’s also your bodyguard. Coordinate your schedule with him. ”
I stare at him, my vision blurring with outrage, disbelief, and the terrifying realization that I am losing control of my life. I want to let the scream out, but I keep it locked in my throat. Cyan doesn’t even look remotely sorry. Cyan MacBrady is a monster.
***
When I finally return to my office floor, I ignore the eyes following me, and the judgment in those stares.
But I don’t stop walking, my shoulders back, my chin high, praying no one notices how my hands shake.
I still feel that bastard’s touch on my skin.
I reach my desk and freeze. The glass covering the framed photo of my parents and grandmother catches my reflection, and my stomach plummets, because now I can see what I look like, and the lingering heat in my cheeks.
Cyan successfully achieved his goal today.
I look fucked, claimed, and completely owned.
Shame crushes my ribs. I rip my gaze away and bolt to the restroom.
The door locks behind me, and I slump against the cool surface, my breath ragged.
Merciful silence. Finally I’m alone. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see a woman who has lost control of her own life.
I rip a wet wipe from my bag, scrubbing at my lips and my neck after seeing a love bite there, as if I can erase Cyan’s touch.
It doesn’t work. I reapply my makeup with shaking hands, swiping at my lips, my eyes, anything to make myself look normal.
Get it together, Aria. Get it together. I smooth my blouse, but the missing buttons gape, exposing the swells of my breasts beneath my green lace bra.
Damn it. Quickly, I grab the stapler. Stapling the fabric shut and wincing at the solution.
I try to tame my curls, pulling them into a ponytail.
I still feel like his. At least I look somewhat like myself again. I step out just as the elevator dings.
Simon walks out, sees me, and quickly looks away.
Simon’s assistant, Cherice, along with two accountants on temporary assignment from the Boston office, Carla and Sam, glance away after meeting my eyes.
These are the same colleagues who, just this morning, would have smiled, greeted me, and asked about my weekend.
Now? They look away, no greetings, no questions, and no acknowledgment.
Cyan got what he wanted. I’m off-limits.