Page 43 of Red Card


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“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I honestly would like tomove to another country and assume a new identity. Witness protection of sorts, but the protection is from myself.”

With a raspy chuckle, he takes a step forward until I can feel the heat of him sliding over my exposed skin, and his fresh sandalwood scent invades every single one of my senses. It’s the first we’ve ever been this close and it feels… intimate. In a way I’ve never felt.

The air around us feels thick and charged, as if there’s a current surging through it.

“Hold still,” he murmurs as he brings the blade between my cleavage and begins to cut the leather fabric. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I’m practically holding my breath as he works, but it’s more so because of his proximity and not the fact that he’s got a sharp object so close to my skin.

My pulse races as I watch him, concentration etched onto every inch of his face. Those dark eyebrows pulled tightly together, creating a furrow between them, his pillowy bottom lip held hostage between his teeth. He’s got a small freckle just above his upper lip that I’ve never noticed until now.

Carefully, he cuts through the fabric with calculated precision, and after a few slow seconds, I can finally pull my hands free and suck in a deep breath. My body relaxes slightly at the liberation of breathing freely again, and I groan. “Oh God. I will never take breathing for granted ever again.”

“When I cut this a little more, you’re going to be…” Those raspy syllables trail off, leaving the statement hanging densely in the air between us as he slowly lifts his gaze from my chest to my eyes.

I slip my hand beneath the fabric to my boobs and cup them in my palms. “Well, I have to get it off, so you’ll just have to be a gentleman and avert your gaze.”

“And whatever gave you the impression…” he says, the warm caress of his breath cascading over my skin and sending goose bumps erupting over my flesh. “That I’m agentleman, Rory?”

My God.

That may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and instantly, every single nerve ending on my body feels like it might be on fire.

Sometimes, it feels so… easy with Cillian that I forget how insanely hot and intense he is, but right now it’s all I can seem to think about. I’ve never been so aware of how good he smells, or how sexy his tattoos look as they wrap around his strong, corded arms.

The fabric of the dress falls around my rib cage, split open in the middle, and for a second he doesn’t move. His gaze is pinned to my heaving chest, on my hands that are doing a poor attempt at keeping my puckered nipples hidden.

Both of us are breathing heavily, but we don’t say a word.

My eyes flutter shut as shallow pants burst past my lips. It’s no longer the dress that’s controlling my breathing, it’s… Cillian.

“Why’d you order this?” he rasps.

I find myself lifting my shoulder in a shrug, trying to tamp down a nervous swallow. “Because… I wanted to feel hot. I thought maybe it would help me feel more confident. And I guess to see if guys would be more interested if I wore something like this because they clearly haven’t been so far.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes burning into mine as he rakes his teeth across his bottom lip.

I feel the warm brush of his knuckles down the smooth skin along the center of my chest as he slowly drags the scissors lower, cutting through the fabric and causing a shiver to waltz its way down my spine.

“You’re perfect exactly the way you are, St. James, and if any arsehole makes you think that you have to change to be what he needs,he’sthe problem. Not you.” With every syllable, the rough pads of his fingers linger on my heated skin, the same way his words feel branded into my heart.

CHAPTER 15

Cillian

Of all the places I thought I’d be tonight, in a run-down cowboy bar watching my teammates ride a bloody mechanicalbull, pissed off their heads, doesn’t even come close.

Yet another thing St. James coerced us all into, but unlike the game night at her apartment, I’m not dreading being here. Which I’m sure is as much of a surprise to everyone else as it was to me.

“Let’s get another round of beers… What about you, Cairney, you in?” Hollis, the team’s right wing, asks as he leans over the table, a goofy, drunk grin tipping his lips. “This rounds on me.”

I shake my head, lifting my water bottle. “Nah, mate, don’t drink, but thanks.”

Out of the corner of my eye I can see St. James smiling on the barstool beside me, no doubt pleased with herself that he thought enough to ask me.

Most of the team is here tonight.

Wren, Fitz, Liam, and even Ezra and Brooks came.