Chapter 27 #3
Cillian loomed behind me, his faultless reflection a stark contrast to my own. He kissed my shoulder.
“You look perfect.”
“Liar.”
“Perfectly fucked.” Sparks lit up and zipped over where his lips touched. “I like you like this. A mess of my own making. My very own canvas of blemished perfection that I can’t wait to tarnish again.”
I glared at him in the mirror. “Now you suddenly have a way with words?”
“I’ve been inspired.”
He continued kissing my bare shoulder and neck, almost like he couldn’t get enough, and I let him. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. It was so easy to fall into it and forget how he’d toyed with me, but I wanted to believe in the dream.
“What now?” I asked, swallowing back my anxiety.
“Now, síbhean, we’re going to take this back to my place.” His voice hummed against my skin.
He suckled the junction between my neck and shoulder hard enough to bruise. When his tongue joined in and soothed the ache, I arched my neck in a silent plea.
“Then I’ll fuck you until there’s nothing left batting around in your head but sleeping in my arms and in my bed. Exactly how things will be between us from here on out.”
I found that hard to believe, but when our gazes met in the mirror, I nodded and let him lead me out of the building. His arm wrapped around me, as if I was something worth keeping.
You make me feel, he’d said. Those words played in my head. They sounded like a confession, or a piece of one. The silly part of me that still hoped for something between us gripped onto it and held tight, locking it within my greedy heart.
By the time we made it to his Range Rover, the cracks in the foundation of my self-worth and confidence were sealed and fortified, and the pillars banded in metal.
Erel leaned against our recently rented BMW coupé, a baseball cap drawn low over half his face. With Cillian holding my door open, I absently waved at Erel to leave and climbed into the SUV. I set my purse over my lap and reached for the door when the gear handle caught my eye.
A sudden, sharp laugh burst out of me as a warm flush rushed over my cheeks. It was the erotic figurine knob from the street-racing night. He’d kept it. He even took the effort to swap it between cars.
“People will think you have a sex addiction,” I told him.
He didn’t answer.
“Cillian?” I twisted around in my seat.
He leaned against the roof and door of the car, face grim, looking no friendlier than he’d been weeks ago. Great, here we went again. More whiplashing. So much for us staying together.
I chewed on my inner lower lip and settled back into the seat, weary of all this back and forth. It was always one step forward, two steps back.
“I’m not leaving.” I crossed my arms.
His head snapped my way. “Who said anything about you leaving?”
I gestured at the way he was holding himself.
Erel’s car whirred out of the parking lot. Loose concrete and dust crackled under its tires, and Cillian’s gaze whipped up and tracked its exit back onto the main street.
“This is me doing you a favor and not going after the arsehole to bash his face in.”
I blinked, not sure where that came from.
He clasped my chin and ducked through the doorway. His bulk packed the space, sucking away all the air between us.
“Let me make one thing clear. I don’t share.”
I must have heard that wrong. My eyes bounced between the coldness in his, tinged with an emotion I couldn’t quite grasp.
“Say something,” he growled at me.
“You don’t share?” I repeated.
“I. Don’t. Share.”
Huh, that was what he had said. So that meant this bitter, uptight, constipated expression was his green monster of jealousy peeking through. I pinched my lips shut to stifle the bubble of laughter tickling its way up my throat. Shudders quaked from my belly at the restraint.
“What?” he barked.
“I didn’t realize we were deep enough into our relationship to consider bringing other people in.”
“Alice,” he warned.
His pupils narrowed to pinpricks, and the corded muscles and arteries in his neck pulsated. He looked adorable, ready to burst at the idea of me with another man.
I grinned and kissed him softly.
“Erel isn’t a threat to you.” I gave another gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. “Well, maybe to your life. But never as competition.”
Trailing my nails through his short beard, I nuzzled his cheek. Slowly, his tension receded.
“Erel.” He chewed through the name like it left cuts in his mouth.
“You met him already. The night of the street race.”
His eyes flashed. “Your accomplice.”
“Don’t worry. Like I told you, he’s like another brother to me. One hundred percent platonic. My attention is all yours. It has been for some time.”
I grabbed hold of his chin, digging my nails in. All the better if they left a mark.
“But let’s make something clear. I also don’t share.”
His mouth slowly stretched into a wide grin that softened his whole face. A dimple dipped his left cheek, and I traced it. He smacked his mouth to mine.
“I’ve no attachments.”
Ouch, another knockdown by husband dearest. My jaw twitched.
“You’re the only one for me,” he added.
How ironic was that?