Chapter 13 Thirteen
Thirteen
Jal slipped inside her apartment and leaned against the door.
Her head fell back with a thump, the events in the park replaying on the inside of her eyelids.
How Ciaran’s eyes had gone from sunlit whisky to deepest amber just before his lips had captured hers.
How the hand he’d woven into her hair had gently cupped the back of her head and kept her close, without gripping or restraining. And then, his boss had shown up.
A laugh bubbled out of her at the memory of Ciaran’s face as he drew back from their kiss.
She never thought that she would be amused when faced with someone who had murder in their eyes, but here she was laughing, truly laughing, at Ciaran’s boss—or was it friend?
—manufacturing an excuse to cock block him.
No wonder Ciaran looked like he was ready to kill him.
She laughed again and her eyes sprung open. Her fingers flew to her mouth where a smile tugged at the corners. Her fingers slid down her chin to rest over a heart that was still beating a little too fast for how slowly she’d walked back to her apartment.
Part of her had hoped that Ciaran would catch up after he was done with his post-game duties.
With each passing block, the hope had grown.
This would be the corner where she would stop and turn, and there he’d be, coming toward her with that damned trophy clutched in one hand, the breeze carrying the sound of that voice of his calling her name.
But she’d made it all the way home, alone. Again.
The smile slid away, like she had slipped away from him.
It had only been a few weeks since that first meeting in the Washington Square Park.
It hit her then just how much had changed in such a short time.
She had gone from nearly crushing his balls with her foot in a crowded restaurant over money to getting caught up in the earnestness in his eyes and dragging his mouth to hers by a handful of his shirt.
She’d kissed him, and he’d taken it from there.
And boy, had he kissed her. The brief brush of their mouths, with her arms, and a paper cup pinned between them in the park had done nothing to prepare her for the rush that had gone through her when he’d really put some effort into it.
Better than any spike of caffeine. Better than any pump of adrenaline after a successfully picked pocket.
And what had she done? At the first interruption, she’d proven that so little really had changed. She’d. Walked. Away.
Again.
Who in their right mind would walk away from someone like him, who could kiss like that?
You are some kind of idiot, she berated herself, tapping the back of her head on the door in frustration. She looked around then, taking in the size of the apartment, and it had never felt emptier.
Regret wrapped a fist around her heart when the vow he’d made, for that was what it was, came back to her, and she clapped her hands over her face with a groan. A patient man, he’d called himself, but a patient man with limits. Limits, she’d already begun to stretch, had perhaps even broken.
She dug her phone out of the pocket of her hoodie.
The screen lit up as she raised it, revealing the strip of photobooth pictures taken shortly before her life had fallen apart.
Back then, instead of avoiding their company, spending time with her friends had been a different kind of escape.
She remembered that day, crammed on top of each other in that little photo booth, making faces and laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world.
But even in those pictures, the wide, brilliant smile on her face didn’t truly brighten the shadows under her eyes.
Little had her friends known that Lexi’s weight, made the bruises on her thighs ache, that Elena’s arms were wrapped around ribs that screamed in protest, churning her stomach until she’d almost run for the bathroom.
She hadn’t told them about any of it, not until that last night, until it had almost been too late.
Jal shook off that thought before it could smash through her defenses and opened the contacts on her phone, and then laughed, bitterly this time, and shoved the phone back in her pocket.
She still didn’t have his number.
She whirled around and wrestled with the door.
Maybe, if she left now, she could catch him at—shit, she didn’t have his address either.
Her mind whirled over options as one of the deadbolts stuck.
Maybe he was still at the park? Maybe he lived somewhere near work or the park where they’d met?
She didn’t allow herself to think about where else he could be if he’d gone out with the team after the game as the door popped loose and she rushed through, only to collide with something solid.
Panic rose up at the big body that filled the doorway, standing still as a statue, hand poised to knock.
Jal studied him, from a worn pair of black sneakers, up to the pair of tall socks that had been pushed down to his ankles.
Up to the loose pair of black shorts, the red jersey stretched tight across a muscular chest and up further, her gaze locking with a pair of whisky eyes.
One corner of his perfect lips quirked high at the sight of her. “Sorry about Cliff, sometimes he likes to—“
Something far stronger overwhelmed the panic and she reached across the threshold, took a handful of his shirt, and pulled him inside.
She had to be nearly half his weight, but Ciaran staggered inside, only to be pushed against the door where she’d been standing a moment before.
His duffle ended up pinned awkwardly behind him, but she didn’t care as she wound her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to fuse her lips to his.
He grunted in surprise, but recovered quicky, wrapping his free arm around her waist and holding her firmly to his chest while his tongue speared into her mouth to slide along hers, and took his time exploring every inch.
She chased his tongue with hers, tasting mint, the kind from a breath mint or chewing gum. The smell of him filled her nose. There was sweat, sure, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was mixed with something that was spice, citrus, and smoke all blended together to set her head spinning.
Then, it wasn’t just her head that was spinning as he smoothly pivoted so it was her back that was against the door.
The press of his body forced her thighs to split around his hips, the toes of her sneakers barely brushing the floor.
He lifted his head, and Jal opened her eyes to find his only a few inches away, dark and intent on her.
“—Torture me.” he finished, breathless. His chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain his breath.
Jal chuckled deep in her throat, then hissed a breath through her teeth as his hips bucked against her at the sound.
Ciaran’s eyes flared as if the motion had been involuntary but not unappreciated.
She curled her lower lip in between her teeth and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and out of his eyes.
Ciaran moved to wrap his other arm around her, but the trophy bounced off the door with a clang.
They both looked down at the ridiculous thing that he was still holding and Ciaran scowled.
Jal’s chuckle was cut off when he leaned over to put the trophy down, which only brought his hips closer, an obvious hardness pressed into her inner thigh.
The trophy hit the floor with a thump and then a clatter.
He tensed at the sound, muttered something that sounded like a curse, though it wasn’t in English.
His duffle hit the ground next, and then, his eyes came back to hers.
She only had a second to draw in a breath before he was kissing her again.
His now-free hand slid up her arm and brushed her hair behind her shoulder, then slid up to tangle in the strands.
He kissed her until she could hardly breathe, and then moved on, blazing a trail across her jaw and down her neck, the stubble on his cheek left her skin tingling in his wake.
She moaned when he found a sensitive spot just behind her ear.
Against her skin, his lips curled up before he latched on, nibbling and sucking in a way that sent a flood of heat straight to her core.
Despite the hard press of his body against her, his hands were gentle.
The one pinned behind her was splayed across her lower back and inching lower, while the other buried in her hair, cupping the back of her head.
His body vibrated beneath her fingers and at any other time she would have wondered why he was holding himself back, since no other man had bothered with the same restraint, but her mind had gone blessedly silent, and her body was on fire.
She tilted her head so she could gently drag his earlobe between her teeth. “You can touch me, you know.”
He pulled back to stare into her eyes for a moment, as if considering. Then he smirked, and his hands slid down to palm the backs of her thighs, scooping her feet off the floor, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips. She did, and locked her ankles together on his lower back.
Jal let out a yelp and clutched his neck as he spun away from the door and carried her into the apartment.
She half-expected him to set her down on the counter or the table, but he continued to the living room as if her weight was no concern.
He bypassed the sofa under the windows, heading instead for the overstuffed chair that was Elena’s favorite place to lounge when she visited.
She uncrossed her ankles as he sat down in the chair, ending with her straddling his hips.
They both let out a soft groan as her core pressed fully against the hardness straining his shorts.
He stroked one hand up her back into her hair and brought her mouth crashing back to his.
This kiss wasn’t as gentle. Lips, and tongue, and teeth sparred until both were breathing heavily.
Of their own accord, Jal’s hips started rocking against him, his cock sliding along her core through the thin layers of clothing between them.
His hands slipped beneath the waistband of her hoodie, and swept up her sides, bunching the fabric up in their wake.
The brush of his thumbs across her peaked nipples where they pressed against the lace of her bra was enough to make her core throb.
He broke the kiss only long enough to remove the garments and toss them aside, before returning to plunder her mouth again.
Her hands slid into his hair as she kissed him back with equal enthusiasm.
A few moments, or hours later, she pushed his head down, urging him to shift his attention elsewhere.
He obliged with hunger in his eyes and he leaned her back over his arm, trailing kisses down her collarbone, her chest, finally wrapping his mouth around one taught nipple.
She gasped at the contact, but the lace of her bra was in the way of what she really wanted, his mouth on her bare flesh.
She reached behind her back for the clasp, but his hand was already there, releasing it with a flick. Jal shrugged the straps down her arms and tossed it aside.
Ciaran studied her for a moment, his breathing ragged, and she found that she wanted him to look. The feral gleam in his eyes made her feel as if she was something he wanted to devour completely. And she would happily let him.
“Christ, Jal,” he said breathlessly. His hands lifted to cup her breasts, gently, reverently, before sweeping his thumbs across her nipples. With nothing between them, the contact was more electric, each flick sending another spark of heat down her spine. “You’re beautiful.”
Her heart was racing, and she felt every beat deep in her core. His mouth soon replaced one of his hands, his tongue circling the sensitive flesh for a moment before taking the tight nub between his teeth and nibbling gently.
Jal rocked her hips against him, seeking more friction, anything to ease the throbbing that was building as he used every part of his mouth to pay homage to her breasts.
One of his hands slid down inside her leggings to grip her ass and press her even tighter against him as his hips pressed up to meet hers.
He kissed his way over to her other breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth hard enough to make her cry out.
He let out a satisfied chuckle and did it again.
Jal dragged his mouth back to hers and made him pay for that little stunt with her tongue and teeth.
His hand slid even lower on her ass, practically to her entrance, and held her to him for a particularly forceful thrust of his hips.
Through her leggings and his shorts, she could clearly feel every hard, torturous inch of him sliding along her core, certain that the hand on her ass could feel just how turned on she was.
But neither of them made a move to relocate or remove any other clothing, and she could feel a release already building.
Ciaran must have sensed it as well in the subtle tensing of her muscles, in her thighs gripping his hips just a little tighter, in the frantic thrusting against his cock.
His hand left her ass and slid between them, his fingers easily finding and pressing firmly against her clit through the fabric of her leggings.
She whimpered against Ciaran’s mouth at the first tingling flutters of impending release.
The direct pressure of his fingers stroking her through the cloth, giving her just what she needed.
Their tongues continued to war for another stroke, then two, three and her orgasm ripped through her hard and fast.
Jal pressed her forehead to Ciaran’s as she shuddered over him, continuing to ride his hand through the waves of sensation coursing through every nerve.
She threw back her head and cried out as a second, more powerful orgasm followed immediately behind, crashed into her from nowhere, barreling through her like a freight train charging up her spine shedding explosives that detonated in every blood vessel and nerve ending, leaving her shuddering uncontrollably in his lap.
He continued to stroke her until she stilled. When she finally opened her eyes, Ciaran stared at her, transfixed.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Absolutely beautiful.”