Chapter 18 Deirdre
Deirdre
“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” Edgar Allan Poe
Ican barely catch my breath. My body feels heavy, like I am melting into the mattress.
I am a trembling, blissed-out puddle of satisfaction yet still aching for more.
Two rounds and I’m still greedy. Turning to face him, I reach for him as if I’ll never get enough.
My fingers trail down his chest, lower, hoping for an unspoken invitation.
Kieran catches my hand as it glides down, tracing the sexy V shape of his hips.
The ones that I am pretty sure induce a loss of a few brain cells every time I see this man shirtless.
His touch is firm but gentle, bringing my hand slowly to his mouth.
He presses kisses against my knuckles, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.
“No, Miss Ravencroft.”
I pout, lips brushing against his jaw. “Why not?”
His eyes soften in that way that makes me melt even further. He brushes damp hair back from my face, his thumb stroking along my temple. “Because you need rest.” His voice dips low, tender but edged with worry, “Aside from pushing your body too far, I am pretty sure it is closing time.”
I start to argue, but he silences me with a look. That same frustrating mix of stubbornness and protectiveness I’ve come to know too well. “Kieran—”
“Deirdre.” His tone is final, and his lips seal it with another kiss. “You’re not going to tempt me into ruining your recovery. Not tonight.”
Heat flares in my chest—part frustration, but mostly longing. Now that we’ve busted through that daunting wall of hesitation, all I want is to disappear with him. Forever.
“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” I whisper, half-teasing, half-sounding desperate.
He chuckles darkly, pulling me close until his mouth brushes my ear.
“I’m saying you’ve had enough for one night. You’re still healing. But make no mistake...” His voice drops, a sinful promise wrapped in restraint. “The next time you’re with me…” His breath grazes my skin, making me shiver. “…you won’t be able to walk.”
A tremor runs through me, heat spiraling low in my stomach.
My heart pounds, begging him to prove his words right now, but instead, he helps me sit up.
He leans over and picks up my skirt off the ground.
Smoothing it out, he hands it to me before standing up to get dressed himself.
He watches me as I get dressed, not attempting to hide my sulking.
He kisses my shoulder as though reminding me he’s in control of both of us.
Still, I can’t resist needling him. When I stand up, I lean in close, lips brushing the edge of his. “You won’t last long. I know you too well.”
The growl that rumbles from his chest is warning enough. His teeth nip at my shoulder, hard enough to sting, making me gasp.
“Careful, Miss Ravencroft. Keep taunting me, and I’ll forget every excuse I just made.”
God, I almost hope I push him too far.
The heavy bass is gone, the laughter and chatter silenced.
Salvation feels almost eerie when it’s empty, like the heartbeat of the place has gone to sleep for the night.
Kieran and I step out of room seven together, his hand warm at the small of my back, steadying me like he’s afraid I’ll float away.
Claire’s waiting near the front bar, Gabe helping her to shrug into her coat, Vincent beside her, counting cash, too preoccupied to notice us walking up until Kieran clears his throat.
Vincent looks up from the organized piles of cash with an amused look on his face. “Enjoying the upgrades?”
Kieran shoots him a glare.
“Very much so, Vincent. Ten out of ten, totally recommend,” I giggle.
Claire grabs my small crossbody purse that I must have left on the bar in our hurried exit earlier and throws it to me. I catch it mid-toss and sling it over my shoulder.
“I’ll drive her,” Kieran says smoothly, but Claire is already jingling her keys.
“Nope. She’s mine on university property, McKnight.” She gives him a look that dares him to argue.
I bite my lip to hide my laugh as Kieran’s jaw tenses. He looks like he’s swallowing a very large, very bitter pill.
He’s going to kill Sheridan, too, just for making things difficult for us.
Vincent grins at the tension, his timing impeccable. “Also, Claire, you’re off tomorrow night. You two don’t get into too much trouble.”
Claire’s face lights up. “Wait—seriously? A whole weekend? Vincent, I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t,” Vincent deadpans, tucking the money away. “But yes. Go play. Get your classes sorted. I’ll call one of the other girls in. Gabe and I can manage.”
Kieran exhales through his nose, clearly not thrilled. “So, I don’t get her the entire weekend, is what you’re saying?” he mutters to Claire. He looks like someone stole his puppy.
My brows lift. “You make it sound like I’m vanishing for months.”
He meets my eyes, and for the briefest second, the wall he usually keeps so carefully constructed slips. There’s a flicker of an almost boyish expression in his frustration, almost pouty even, and it makes my chest squeeze with warmth.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says gruffly, as though he can hear my thoughts.
I try to stifle the laugh bubbling out of me, but I can’t help it.
It echoes throughout the bar as I reach up to brush my fingers across his arm.
“Oh my God…Is Professor McKnight actually sulking? This is…monumental. I should write it down in my journal: the night the broody Professor showed his human side.”
His lips twitch despite himself. “Careful.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll tell everyone how secretly needy you are?” I tease, tilting my head with a grin.
That does it. His expression shifts, a spark of mischief flashing in his eyes, the kind that always means trouble. He leans down, his voice low and sinful against my ear. “Needy? No, Deirdre. I just crave you. I was planning on waking you up the next two mornings to show you just how much.”
Heat shoots through me so fast I almost sway against him. My mouth goes dry, my pulse pounding. “And what exactly does that mean?”
He only smirks, the kind of slow, devastating look that makes me want to drag him right back into room seven and lock the door. “You’ll see.”
Claire jingles her keys again, oblivious to the way my knees have turned to liquid. “D, let’s go. Before I have to drag you.”
Kieran presses one last kiss to my temple, lingering just long enough to make my heart ache with the separation. “Monday morning,” he says firmly, like a promise.
“Monday morning?” I echo. As he now knows he has my attention, he shoos me toward Claire.
“Have a good night, Miss Ravencroft,” he calls out after us, the pouty expression that once spread across his face is now replaced with a devilish grin and sparkle in his eyes.
Claire links her arms with mine and as we walk out Salvation’s double doors, my curiosity burns hotter than the memory of what just happened in the VIP room.
Whatever Kieran has planned, I already know one thing.
It’s going to wreck me in the most delicious way.
As if he can read my thoughts, my phone buzzes in my purse. I pluck it out and quickly see his name flash across the screen.
Kieran: Be at Scholar’s Auditorium by 7:30 sharp, Monday morning, Miss Ravencroft.
Chills run up my arms, and a giddy feeling courses through my stomach as I type a response.
Deirdre: Yes, Professor.
By the time we stumble back into the dorm, the air feels too quiet after the pulsing bass of Salvation. My skin still hums from the hungry touch of Kieran and where his lips explored. I know my face is plastered with a post fuck glow I can’t quite hide. Unfortunately, Claire notices immediately.
She doesn’t even wait for me to set my bag down before she begins to pry. “Well, well, look at you.”
I frown, trying to sound casual. “What about me?”
Claire shuts the door with her hip and points a finger at me like she’s just solved a mystery. “The hair? Wrecked. The flushed face? And don’t even get me started on that grin you’re trying to smother. My girl got her world rocked. We love to see it.”
I scoff, kicking my heels off, flinging them on the floor.
“I don’t know who ‘we’ is, but you are seeing things, ma’am.
” I turn away quickly, hiding the blush heating my face.
It’s easier to talk about my sex life when we’re all playfully throwing jokes around, but with Claire?
This bitch is about to ask for every juicy detail.
Literally.
“Oh, no, sweetheart,” she drawls, following me in the same direction. “I’ve known you long enough to know your post sex signs. And right now? You’ve got ‘just thoroughly ruined in the best way possible’ written all over you.”
A wave of heat shoots through my cheeks again. “Claire—”
She gasps theatrically, clutching her chest.
“Oh, stop! Your legs are practically jelly. You’re glowing like you swallowed the club lights. Our Professor Broody finally broke that six-week dry spell, and I need to hear about it. I don’t know why you’re acting surprised.”
I grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her. She catches it, laughing so hard she nearly falls onto her bed.
“Don’t throw things at me when I’m right,” she teases, hugging the pillow like a prize. “So…Did you climb him like a tree or did he—”
“Claire!” My voice is mortified, but I can’t fight the laugh slipping through.
“What?” She bats her lashes, the picture of faux-innocence. “I saw the man struggle for the last six weeks every second he was around you. I’m celebrating for him.”
I sit down on my bed, burying my face in my hands. “You’re impossible.”
She scoots onto the edge of my mattress, lowering her voice just enough to soften the teasing. “Impossible, yes. But I’m also thrilled for you. You’ve been through hell, D. I love seeing this light in you again. You deserve the world, my girl, and he practically orbits around you.”