The sound of his laugh made me want to cancel it, crawl into that bed, and fall asleep surrounded by this man. It was also a reminder that I needed to get the hell out of this gorgeous house and back to my cave before I made any more unreasonably selfish choices today.
His broad palm rests on my waist. “I have no doubt you'd handle me just fine.”
Move back, Toni. Step away. Don't—I step into the warmth of his touch, letting his arms circle my torso and pull me closer. “I guess we'll never know.”
I imagine there's disappointment behind his half smile.
“Never is a long time.”
“Trust me.” I trace the silver pendant, noticing the name St. Cecilia etched around the figure of a woman. “You don't want to be stuck too close to a hurricane for too long. They tend to make a mess of things.”
His protest shows on his face before it reaches his lips, but my phone vibrates, announcing my driver’s imminent arrival.
“I'll walk you down,” he says, tying his robe.
Rather than lead me to the kitchen, Cillian takes me to the front door. The small foyer, much like the other snippets I'd seen of the home, was tidy and curated, with a shoe rack, an entry table, and a few pieces of art I fight myself not to study.
At the door, he turns to me with a sigh. I don't pull away when he reaches to cup my cheek, instead letting myself lean into his touch, aching for just a little more of him.
He kisses me. Slowly. Intentionally. Both of us memorizing what the other feels like, tastes like, something to reflect on when we're alone in the dark.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. This fantasy is over.
Breaking the kiss, he presses his lips to my forehead, drawing in a deep breath. “I'm glad I got to meet you, Toni.”
“Me, too.” My voice sounds too small.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
I nod. “Goodnight, Cillian.” Goodbye feels too final.
“Goodnight.”
CHAPTER 5
Cillian
“Hold the fuck on,”Lucy cuts me off. “A beautiful woman,” she holds up one well-manicured hand, ticking each point off one by one, “walks into your bar. She's entirely your type.”
“I don't have a type,” I protest.
“Yes, you do,” Lucy and Oliver say in such perfect unison it's almost creepy.
“Don't interrupt me, it's rude.” Lucy continues, “You take her to dinner. You take her home.” The last word she says loudly enough to make me wince. “Supposedly, have a great time.”
“That feels like an attack,” I grumble into my whiskey.
“And,” she says, ignoring me, “you don't get her number, her socials, anything?”
“Correct.” I keep my tone as neutral as possible. If I can bore Lucy, her notoriously short attention span will save me.
She stares at me slack jawed. “This might be the most insane thing you've ever done.”
“Most feels hyperbolic,” Oliver says.
“No. It’s not. And I’m including the fucking Marines.”She shakes her head, popping a fry in her mouth. “That’s how insane this is to me.”
“I’m gonna kill Gin.” I toss the rest of my drink back.
