Page 105 of Carnal Wagers

“No, never again. I meant it. You’re never getting away from me again. Every minute you have left is mine, and I’ll own everything you are before the end. Even then, I won’t be letting you go. You’re stuck with me, even if I have to cuff you to me. There’ll be no escaping. Ever.”

Shivers zapped down my spine, but I refused to show him how much those words affected me. I had to hold strong. Words meant nothing if not backed up by actions.

A door banged against a wall in the distance. Muffled voices clashed against the seclusion of our clandestine tryst. This time, when I jerked, Cillian let me go. He slipped out of me, and immediately my pussy clenched around the void he left behind, the hussy.

We redressed in tense silence, or at least tense for me. He looked completely at ease, back to wearing the most stoic expression the world ever knew as he retrieved his shirt and buttoned his pants.

I adjusted my skirt over my bare vagina since Cillian pocketed my panties. That didn’t bother me. I’d attended enough galas going commando in skintight dresses that it was practically second nature. However, the front of my top was in shreds with a shoulder strap dangling at the seams, forcing me to wear it backward to hide my breasts. Plus there were wrinkles in my skirt, and my hair was a bird’s nest of tangles. I raked my fingers through my hair and shook it out. I blew out a shaky breath and cringed at the sight in the mirror. I looked like a walking disaster, so far from perfection I might as well have rolled in dirt.

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.