Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Cian
I woke up with the kind of morning wood that felt like a two-by-four between my legs. My body was already moving before my brain caught up, rutting against the warm, smooth skin in front of me. I opened my eyes to find the devil looking back at me, green eyes hazy with sleep and want.
His hand was working his pretty cock slowly, lazily, and I reached down to squeeze his balls. His mouth opened on a long, low moan that made my dick jerk. “Starting without me?” I asked, my voice rough.
“You—” He gasped. “—started it. Nearly stabbed me in the back with that thing.”
Fuck I wanted him. “Blow me while you jack off.”
Devlin scrambled up like an eager puppy, then slid down my body to settle himself between my thighs.
He tugged my boxers down, and his mouth was on me immediately, taking me as far as he could before he gagged.
His arm moved quickly as he worked his cock while stuffing his mouth.
I was way too keyed up to last long, and it only took a few minutes of that hot tongue sliding over my shaft before I was coming down his throat.
He sputtered around me as his body bucked, then I felt a warm splash on my leg as he came too.
Sated and still half-asleep, I let myself sink into the bed as I draped a forearm across my eyes.
Devlin’s tongue hadn’t stopped its exploration, and I felt small licks across my balls, along my piercing, then up my stomach.
I rested my other hand on the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his soft waves.
He nuzzled the hair on my chest, then nudged my arm away from my eyes and grinned down at me, a drop of my cum still on his lower lip.
I fluttered my fingers down the knobs of his spine, then back up.
I pushed his hair off his forehead. For one horrifying moment, I almost kissed him.
I almost pulled his head down and tasted his lips.
He was my enemy, my father’s murderer. I was supposed to kill him, not wake up tangled in some mutual morning orgasm near-kiss bullshit.
What the fuck was I thinking? Was this cuddling?
Last night had clearly fucked me up bad.
I huffed and shoved him away, and he toppled to the mattress with a surprised grunt. I caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he covered it with an eye roll. But something about that brief glimpse of emotion stabbed me in the gut.
I sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, trying to get my bearings while Devlin remained blissfully quiet behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to find him flat on his back, completely naked.
His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand tucked behind his head and the other resting on his flat stomach.
Morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window and cast his pale skin in a soft glow.
His pink lips glistened, still swollen from taking me, as he ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth.
Then he turned his head and looked at me.
I tried to picture what he’d look like without life in those pretty eyes. How the emerald would dull. How his expressive face would go vacant. My stomach cramped. Nausea swept through me, and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand as bile rose up my throat.
Devlin’s eyebrows drew together as he propped himself up on an elbow. “You just went pale. Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t okay. I was really fucking not okay.
I turned away from him without answering. “I’ll go make coffee.”
As I stood on unsteady legs, Devlin shot out of bed and landed on the floor with a thud before hurrying to my kitchen. He whirled around to face me with one palm out and the other already on the coffee maker.
“I’ll do it!” He flashed a smile. That stupid charming smile that made him look ten years younger. I fucking hated it. “I’ll make the coffee. Yours sucks.”
I bristled. “My coffee doesn’t suck.”
Devlin busied himself scooping the grounds from the tin. “Your first problem? The brand.” He held up the coffee can. “I know you’re not poor, Cian. Try springing for something that doesn’t taste like piss.”
“How would you know what piss tastes like?” I muttered as I joined him at the kitchen counter.
I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he poured water into the machine and turned it on.
Then he grabbed matching mugs out of the cabinet, the blue ones that had been there since I was a kid.
He moved around me like he owned the place as he pulled out the package of hard-boiled eggs and sliced an orange into neat wedges.
By the time the coffee was ready, he’d plated the eggs and orange wedges in some sort of pattern on a chipped plate. I took a sip of my coffee and grimaced. It was better than when I made it. That fucker. He knew it, too, because he smirked at me over the rim of his mug.
How had we gotten here? I’d let him make me coffee, wield a knife, and nearly kiss me—all in one morning.
But I couldn’t bring myself to end it. Not when he went on about how much he’d liked the burger at O'Shea’s.
Or when he explained why the restaurant’s color scheme could use an update.
Or when he argued that Jace needed a leash of his own.
And I stared at his mouth the entire time.
I watched his lips move and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. How would he react? Would he melt against me, or would he give me something bruising in return?
“Cian?” His voice shook me from my thoughts.
I took a slow sip of my coffee. “Yeah?”
Devlin tilted his head to the side before reaching out to press the back of his hand to my forehead. I shook him away. “What’re you doing?”
“Checking for a fever. What’s with you today?”
“Nothing’s with me,” I snapped.
He caught his tongue between his teeth and squinted. “Liar.”
Devlin stepped closer, still naked, and without thinking, I reached down and squeezed his ass. I tugged one cheek to the side, and his face pinched into a wince.
“Sore?” I asked.
“Sensitive,” he amended.
I’d have to wait to take him. And even then, I’d have to take my time with him first. He was small and tight, and my dick wasn’t for beginners.
I touched a finger to his hole, and he sucked in a breath. He placed his hands on my chest as he pressed closer. “Cian…”
I loved the way he said my name like that—a breathy whisper filled with submissive deference.
I brushed my nose along his temple, inhaling his scent, before dropping my hand and stepping away.
He swayed for a moment before bracing himself against the counter.
A flush reddened Devlin’s cheeks, and when our gazes met, I saw the same confusing desire reflected back at me.
I had to pull away. I had to get back to work, to what was important: my business and my crew.
This morning was a wake-up call. No more sharing beds. No more pulling him from nightmares. What the actual fuck had I been thinking?
Oh, right. With my dick.
Devlin Walsh was absolutely a temptation I could control. An addiction I could ration. I could own him without falling under his spell, take from him until there was nothing left. When he was gone, I wouldn’t miss his smile, or his eyes, or his big, stupid mouth. I wouldn’t miss anything.
I was Cian O’Shea, and no one owned me.
Devlin
Something was off with Cian, and suddenly the floor felt like quicksand beneath my feet.
I didn’t know where to step. I’d thought I could read him fairly well, but now I was back at square one.
I had no idea what had changed. He always waffled between indifference and anger when it came to me, but every once in a while, I’d find him staring in a way that made my breath catch.
Like he was readying himself to peel off a layer of my skin.
After I showered, Cian made me sit in the bathroom while he washed too. Through the frosted glass, I could just make out the shape of his body and the way his tattoos shifted as he ran the sudsy cloth over his skin.
I should have been paying closer attention, watching for Cian’s cues. I bit my thumbnail ragged while I dissected the entire morning. We’d both gotten off. I’d made coffee. I’d chattered like an idiot about burgers and paint colors like we were boyfriends…
He didn’t touch me again the rest of the morning.
He wouldn’t even get close to me, and every minute that passed just added to the tension in my body until I wanted to scream.
Cian had been easier to deal with when all he’d been interested in was forcing me onto my knees. But this version was something else.
The questions he’d asked about Conrad and Jeremy made me wary. Nothing good would come of Cian trying to get to know me better. I wasn’t some puzzle to figure out. There was nothing decent at my core. All he’d reveal was rotten layer after rotten layer until there was nothing left.
Maybe he was bored with me? Did I disappoint him last night? I tasted copper in my mouth, and I lowered my thumb to find I’d bitten through the skin. Fuck, I was a mess.
Cian stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He wouldn’t look at me as he dried off. He wouldn’t look at me as he stood in front of the mirror, completely naked, shaving his face. And when he walked out the bathroom door, he left me there without looking back.
My legs shook where I stood. The tension in my body shifted into an ugly anger I recognized all too well. Rejection and avoidance had always been my worst triggers. And I hadn’t magically developed healthy coping skills in the last year.
When I stomped into the main room, Cian was pulling on a pair of jeans, his cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll do it.” he replied, then he ended the call and tugged a T-shirt over his head. After snatching his keys and jacket, he barely slid me a glance.
“Gotta run an errand. Stay here.”
Stay here? Stay here? Without him?
My skin prickled. “Guessing that means the chain is back?”