Page 109 of Carnal Wagers

I gritted my teeth and folded my arm around my churning stomach. The toilet seat lid knocked against its hinges as I rocked back and forth.

“I have to go,” I said, my voice small and flat. “Don’t count me in for anything until March.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

The sound of the call ending chimed with false cheer. Several unopened text messages from Maeve popped up. I ignored them as nausea climbed up my throat. I rushed to the sink and splashed water over my face.

“Síbhean?”

The door creaked. Warm arms wrapped around me. His chin settled against the top of my head, and I melted against his chest. The reflection we made in the mirror showed so much adoration it cracked a part of me wide open.

It wasn’t real. It wouldn’t last. I repeated those truths over and over, as if they would protect my battered heart. Somewhere along the line of this stupid personal dare, I’d lost a bit of myself to him, and I was desperate to get it back before he realized what he’d stolen.

“You alright?”

I exhaled, nose burrowed against his arm. “I’m fine. Just need a moment.”

His scent soothed me more than a good night’s sleep ever had. In a few minutes, I’d be back to my ball-busting self, with no self-pity, no moping, and no worries. Back to the me people expected to see, the version people liked.

“Look. Earlier, when I snapped at you…” He scratched one of his bearded cheeks, his mouth twisted sideways. The hesitation was almost cute on a big, tatted mobster like him, but I didn’t have the energy to smile.

“Is this your version of an apology?”

“I don’t do apologies, sweetheart.”

I grunted and thunked my head against his chest. “And I don’t forgive assholes. Try harder. That was a poor first attempt.”

His fingers kneaded my hips. “Only you could wrangle one out of me.”

“Well, go on then. I’m listening.”

“Spread your legs, and I’ll tongue the words for you.”

I slapped his arm. “Un vrai chaud lapin.”

“Sounds dirty.” He hummed and nosed my neck.

“Means you’re a randy devil.”

“Like I said. Dirty.”

“You are.”

“I look forward to dirtying you up some more.” He cupped my crotch, his fingers pressing into my slit.

I hissed at the raw ache between my legs and caught his arm, then literally crawled up over his shoulder to avoid the touch. I jumped down and swung my arms in surrender, half caught up in laughter at the mix of shock and lasciviousness on his face.

“No more. My vagina needs a break.”

He huffed a chuckle against my skin, grappling me close. “Try that again. You won’t get away so easily next time.”

He seemed obsessed with touching me today. Not that I was complaining, but it was such a change.

“I wouldn’t bet on your chances.”

“You don’t know how dedicated I can be when motivated.” He lifted me onto the vanity and shifted between my legs. “And right now, I’m very motivated. There’s no getting away from me anymore. I’ll get so deep under your skin, síbhean, you’ll die before you get me out, and then you’ll drag me down to hell with you because you’re the rush I’ll live for.”