Chapter 12 #2
I keep my mouth shut, drag in what little breath I can, and refuse to give him anything else. Most certainly not the truth. Because even as my body keeps betraying me, straining against him, chest brushing his with every uneven breath, heat bleeding through both of us in a way I hate…
I hate that part of me doesn't want to move.
"You went there for a reason," he continues, and his thumb shifts against my wrist, testing, feeling the spike of my pulse, tracking it like it's something he's already claimed. "You don't just wander into that part of the city in the middle of the night."
Something in his voice makes my stomach tighten, because he isn't guessing anymore. He's waiting for me to admit the part he already knows matters.
"Let—go—" I force out, breath hitching, the words broken, thinner than I want them to be as I twist again, trying to wrench my arms free. When it doesn't work, I go still, jaw locking as my breath breaks unevenly against his hand, my chest rising harder with every second he keeps me there.
He watches me, really watches me—the resistance, the breath, the way my body refuses to settle—and then he steps closer, closing the last of the distance between us and pressing me fully back into the wall.
My back hits stone again as his body follows, heat pressing through damp fabric and skin that hasn't cooled since the pool, leaving me with nothing but the weight of him and the way he keeps me exactly where he wants me.
"Look at me."
His fingers hook under my chin and force the movement, tipping my head back until my gaze snaps to his. It's a mistake. His eyes are darker now, focused, like whatever line was there before is already gone.
"There you are," he murmurs.
"I'm not telling you anything," I manage, though my breath is still uneven, my body still too aware of every point where we're touching.
His mouth shifts, not quite a smile but something slower, more deliberate, like he already knows how this ends. "Yeah. I figured."
Then he leans in.
I should turn my head. Fight it. I should do anything but what I do, which is lift my chin that last fraction and meet him halfway before I can stop myself, before I can pretend I didn't want it.
I feel the shift in my own body, the way my pride is being dismantled by the simple, terrifying fact that my cock hardens against him. My mind screams for a retreat that my knees won't provide, my body choosing the heat of him over pulling free.
His grip loosens at my throat just enough for me to drag in a breath. My lips part on instinct, my chest pulling in air like I've been starved for it.
Then his mouth is on mine. He kisses me hard enough to steal the next breath from my lungs, tilting my head back and setting the pace before I can think about stopping him.
For one stunned second, I freeze. And then I kiss him back.
Light, I hate that I do.
My hands are still pinned above my head, my body trapped against his, breath still uneven, and instead of pulling away, I lean into him, into the heat and pressure of his body, into the terrifying relief of not fighting for one second.
"Fuck… little mouse," Ciaran murmurs against my mouth. "You taste too good."
"Don't," I snap, breath catching, but it falls apart halfway through.
He takes the opening, pushing back in, and before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm arching into him, chasing the friction.
My chest presses against his, and his hands fist in my shirt like he can't get me close enough.
Our hips collide, knocking the breath out of me as his weight pins me to the stone.
I moan, and Ciaran reacts instantly, his grip tightening just enough to keep me where he wants me while his mouth takes what it wants.
He swallows the sound, his teeth catching my lower lip in a sharp, stinging reminder of who's in control, and the low rumble in his chest tells me he feels every shift in me.
Every time I try to move, he adjusts, crowding closer until I stop thinking and just react under his hands.
I try to pull away. I think I do. But it's weak, too late, nothing against the way he controls the pace of it, the breath I can't quite catch.
I'm caught somewhere between fighting him and leaning into him, hating how close those things have become, how easily one slips into the other.
It feels like impact, like something breaking open inside me, until I don't know what I'm trying to do anymore except stay upright under it.
I want to push him off and drag him closer in the same breath. My control slips another inch, leaving me unsteady in his grip as I realize I'm no longer pulling away so much as failing to.
His grip on my jaw tightens. He hooks his leg between mine, forcing my thighs apart, pressing his hips into me until I am pinned completely, until there is nowhere left to go.
The difference between us presses in from every side, his body locking mine in place, forcing me to feel it, to recognize exactly who is in control.
I am shaking. My pulse jumps hard against my wrist, too fast, and the heat of him closes in around me.
Then a low rumble cuts through the corridor, followed by light flooding the floor.
Both of us freeze when a hover car drops into view at the end of the hall, stabilizers hissing as it settles and shattering the moment completely.
"Who's that?" I shove at his chest, forcing space between us as I twist free.
Ciaran holds me there a second longer, his grip tightening before finally letting go. "No one you need to worry about."
I'm not buying it. "Ciaran—who is that?"
"Ciaran?" A voice cuts in, and I turn despite myself. Lucan strides toward us from the hover car, sleeves rolled over ink, his gaze flicking between us. "What the fuck are you doing, dude?"
Ciaran finally lets go, though not completely at first, his hand lingering longer than it should before dropping away.
I shove off the wall and put space between us, my pulse kicking harder now, the heat under my skin turning sharp.
Lucan steps closer, taking in the distance I forced between us, the tension still hanging there, then my face, his expression tightening. "This looks like a great conversation. Mind explaining why you're having it here?"
Before either of us can answer, another voice breaks in. "Rowan?"
It's Damaris, already moving toward us, coming down the corridor fast with concern written all over his face as his gaze shifts between the three of us. "What's going on? What the hell are you doing to him?"
Lucan drags his gaze over Damaris, a faint, amused smile touching his mouth. "Well. Nice seeing you again."
"Lucan," Ciaran says. "Not now."
Damaris glances at him, visibly thrown before his attention snaps straight back to me. His gaze catches on my swollen mouth, then moves over my face, my posture, the way I'm still trying to steady my breathing. "Are you all right? What were you doing out here? I woke up and you were gone."
I try to answer, but nothing comes out right away. My pulse is still too fast, my thoughts tripping over each other.
Damaris doesn't wait. "Come on." He reaches for my arm and turns me away from Ciaran. "Let's get you upstairs."
"I'll find out, Rowan."
I half turn, only to find Ciaran already watching me, his jaw tight, his gaze locked on mine, something unfinished sitting there between us. Then he turns away, and Lucan follows, glancing back once before disappearing down the corridor.
"Come on." Damaris is already steering me away. "We're leaving."
I don't resist. I can't. My body goes with him before my head catches up, my focus slipping as he pulls me down the corridor.
"Ro, what the hell was that?" he demands. "Why do I wake up in the middle of the night and find your bed empty?"
I open my mouth.
He doesn't wait, quickening his pace as we head for the dorms. "And then I spend half an hour looking for you only to find you out here with Ciaran of all people." He shoots me a look. "What were you thinking?"
With Ciaran.
The way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
I think of the photograph. The blurred street sign. The hours spent chasing a clue that led me straight into that alley. I think of the men watching me. I think of Ciaran dragging me onto that bike before I found out what they wanted.
"I thought I had a lead," I admit.
Damaris glances at me. "On Sola?"
I shake my head, throat feeling tight. "I don't know. I was wrong. I'm sorry, Dama. I didn't mean to worry you."
His expression softens. "Well, you did, boo. You scared the shit out of me."
I look away. "Sorry."
Neither of us says anything for a while. Then Damaris sighs and throws an arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the dorm. "And I thought Lucan was my biggest problem. Oh, well, come on. Let's get you upstairs."
We reach the dorm, and he pushes the door open without slowing, pulling me inside and kicking it shut behind us.
"Sit."
I drop onto the bed, my hands still shaking, my mind still catching up.
Because if Ciaran Virel knows something about my sister, then tonight might have been the beginning of something a lot bigger than a kiss. Whatever happened in that corridor didn't feel as simple as him taking and me resisting. It felt like something else.
Damaris doesn't sit. He moves through the small kitchen, fills the kettle, pulls down two mugs and the cookie tin, and sets everything out like he's done it a hundred times before. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." The kettle clicks. He pours, sets a mug in front of me, then drops into the chair across from me, leaning forward. "Now talk. What the hell was that?"
"Nothing."
"Yeah. That looked like nothing."
I don't answer.
He just watches me over the rim of his mug, waiting. "Try again."
I look down at the table. "I just didn't want you to worry."
"Worry." He exhales what's almost a laugh. "You don't have to do this stuff alone, you know. That's not the point. Ro, we came here together. If you're going to get in trouble, the least you can do is let me get in trouble with you."