Okay, that was by far the most sexual thing that’s ever come out of my mouth, and it wastacorelated.
I’m impressed with myself. I didn’t know I even had that in me.
“Christ,” he groans dramatically. “That really bloody does it for me, Rory. So fucking hot.”
I toss my head back, a giggle escaping at how ridiculous this entire exchange has become. Cillian’s laughing along with me, and I realize when I hear him, a real genuine laugh for the first time ever, I love the sound. Deep and raspy, it fits him so perfectly.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit student, St. James?”
I shrug, sitting back against the arm of the couch. “Nope. Maybe you’re just ashitteacher.”
“Bullshit. I’m a phenomenal teacher.” He sobers after a moment, glancing over at me pensively. “Seems like you have no problem flirting with me. What’s the difference?”
“Because you’re…you? I don’t know, I think maybe my brain knows it’s not real. That it’s just a scenario and not the real thing. It feels entirely different when I’m talking to a random guy that Ifind attractive. I either word vomit or find myself friend-zoned. I just freeze and then make a complete fool out of myself.”
Cillian listens intently as I talk, his big hands folded in his lap, and when I’m done he says, “Then we’ll just keep practicing, keep working at it until you feel more comfortable. For your next lesson we’ll up the stakes, meet at a bar and pretend we don’t know each other. See how you do with a change of scenery. We can work on cues, and how you can pick up on knowing when a guy is interested.”
I chew my lip. “Okay. Can I ask you something? Not about the lesson or my… issues.”
He nods.
“What’s your dream girl? Not like a supermodel or a famous actress, but when you see yourself with someone, who is she? What does she look like?”
For a beat he’s quiet as he mulls over my question.
It’s something I’ve thought a lot about recently. Who my own dream guy would be, and I haven’t quite figured it out, but I’m slowly working on it.
I want to know what Cillian likes. Who he’d be interested in. What kind of traits he looks for in a girl. I just want toknowCillian.
“Kind, smart, authentically herself. She’d genuinely like rugby and be compatible in…” My cheeks immediately burn when he trails off and smirks, dipping a shoulder. “As far as looks, I lovealltypes of women, and I don’t have a physical type.”
That’s surprising. Most athletes like cleat chasers. Puck bunnies. The girls who would do whatever simply because they playsports. I’ve seen it enough. But it seems that’s not Cillian’s type at all.
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, what’s interesting about that?” he asks.
I shrug. “It just doesn’t fit the whole quintessential cliché bad boy thing. They usually want bimbos who think sucking their dickisa sport and have nothing important to talk about. Ever.”
Cillian chuckles. “I mean most guys want their girl to love sucking their cock, St. James.”
“That’s not wha—” I stop mid-sentence. Hearing the wordcockin his stupidly hot English accent causes me to flush, my cheeks burning. “Ugh, you know what… never mind. I’m just saying I didn’t expect you to have an answer like that, that’s all. So deep.”
“Well, to be fair you don’t really know me. Maybe I’m a deep guy,” he says.
Okay, that’s true. I guess it wasn’t fair to judge him. I’m already beginning to learn that he’s not at all like I thought when he first got here.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, because he is. “Won’t happen again, promise. I’ll just save all my judgment for your food choices.”
When he laughs, I bite my lip to hold back the one that threatens to escape.
Something tells me there’s much more to Cillian Cairney than what meets the eye.
And I want to find out what.
CHAPTER 13
Cillian
