Cillian
Go for it,” I retort roughly. My teeth are grinding together so hard I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t bloody pop. “Do your worst, St. James.”
She smirks sassily from across the table before sliding out of the booth and making her way over to a tall, meaty bloke who’s at the opposite side of the bar.
I watch her approach him, giving him a flirty smile that makes my fists clench and my gaze narrow into slits. When he leans in, whispering something near her ear, she tosses her head back and laughs, and a feeling much like jealousy pounds feverishly through my veins.
Fuck, I hate this shit. I hate that she’s laughing with another guy.
The entire goddamn point of lessons was to teach her. To get her ready for this.
Then you kissed the fuck out of her and found out how sweet shetastes, the voice in my head says, repeating what I was very much already bloody aware of.
What a fucking mess.
I spent the week avoiding her because I needed to work out the shit in my head, and finally I came to the realization that this isn’t happening. I’ll never be the kind of guy who deserves someone like Rory.
The good guy who doesn’t fuck up everything he touches.
She’s too sweet, too kind, too pure for a guy like me. Not to mention that she’s my coach’s daughter. She’s a complication I can’t afford.
Regardless of how badly I want her, and fuck, it’s so bloody bad.
My hands ache with how tightly my fists are clenched as I watch the arsehole place his hand along the small of Rory’s back and lean in close to say something in her ear once more. Then her eyes widen slightly, and she rakes her teeth over her lip, nodding to whatever he’s said.
It looks like they’re actually getting on, and I fucking hate it. I knew from the second she walked over to the hockey dude that she wasn’t interested, and my entire body sagged in relief.
But now… I realize she doesn’t look over at me once, and that only frustrates me more, knowing that she doesn’t need me. That she’s actually enjoying talking to this tosser.
Maybe it’s a bit fucked to think I actually don’t want her to succeed. Not at all. I want her to find an excuse for why she isn’t interested. But she’s using all the same things I fucking taught her. The eye contact, the laughing, the leaning in, the touching his arm.
And I hate every fucking second of it.
When he reaches for her hand and leads her to the dance floor, I’m sliding out of the booth before I can stop myself. Purely on instinct I make my way across the bar toward them. I don’t even think… I just act.
The dance floor is much more crowded than the bar portion, so I push through the crowd until I spot Rory and the dickhead. I walk up and tap him on the shoulder.
His head turns, and he looks confused as he says, “Yeah?”
“Time to go, mate.”
“What?” He laughs like I’ve just told a fucking joke as he looks at Rory and then back at me. “We’re dancing,mate, chill. Plenty of other people to dance with.”
His hand that’s curved around Rory’s waist tightens, pulling her closer, and it takes every ounce of self-control that I’ve been working on for the past year to keep from hitting him.
“Take your hands off of her.” My voice is deadly low. Venom dripping from every syllable.
Rory’s mouth falls open, that spot between her brows crinkling and it’s too goddamn cute for how I’m feeling right now. Her feet move backward, separating the two of them, and the bloke looks at us both before muttering something and leaving.
The second he’s out of view, she looks at me, her eyes flaring with anger. “Are you serious right now, Cillian?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should’ve probably thought this shit through before I walked over here, but that’s the problem, I wasn’tthinkingat all.
Not when I saw him touching her.
My shoulder lifts as I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the fact that she looks bloody angry. “Let’s go.”
Without another glance, she spins on her heel toward the exit. I follow behind, trying to work out how I’m going to unfuck this.
