“But for real,” he continued, leaning one hand on the steering wheel. “How you still believe in all that shit? After what he did to you?”
I sighed. “Because what he did doesn’t define love. It just defines his stupid ass. I can’t let his bullshit ruin the way I see the world. I don’t want to be that forever bitter, closed-off person who can’t trust or feel anymore.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the road. “I get it. Doesn’t mean I agree, but I get it.”
I needed to change the subject before I turned into a mess, crying in his car or cursing his ass out. “It’s good to know you don’t want a relationship or kids,” I said, forcing a small laugh to lighten the mood. “If we ever fuck, I’ll know not to take you seriously.”
His tires shrieked. My body snapped forward, seatbelt biting into my shoulder. The bottle of water in the console toppled, rolling under my feet as the car screeched to a stop in the middle of the empty highway. My pulse slammed against my throat.
“What the hell, Ciarán?” My voice cracked.
He turned slow, eyes locking on mine. “So, us fucking is a possibility now?”
The way he said fucking, low and deep, sent warmth sliding down my spine. I stared at him, caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to smack him.
“You goofy as hell,” I said, shaking my head. “I was just saying.”
He leaned back in his seat, smirking as his hand drummed lazily on the console. “You didn’t say no, though. Andyou usually just say no outright. So, what you’re really saying is... there’s a chance.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my grin. He was too much. “You’re being weird.”
“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I’m just making sure you know there’s a chance. But I won’t press you about it. We both know damn well it’s only a matter of time before you let me have you the way I want.”
“Here you go.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m right. I know it. Why else would you be here with me?” He chuckled.
“You’re too cocky for me,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest. I was lying—I loved me a confident man.
He leaned in, his face too close, his eyes pinning me where I sat. “Nah, I’m real. I already seen how I affect you. You just don’t want to admit it yet,” he said, his voice dipping into the dangerous, hypnotic tone he sang with. He grabbed my jaw, forcing eye contact. “When you finally stop fighting it…” His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, slow, “I’m going to stretch you out in my bed. I’ll take my time with you, learn the rhythm of your body, every sound you make, every shiver. Have you begging, wanting all of me at once, fast and hard.” He tilted my face up, his eyes flicking down to my throat, then back to my lips. His mouth curved into something lethal.
“You’ll let me kiss that spot on your neck that I notice you rub when I say something that makes your pussy hot.”
The car was suddenly too small, too hot, his voice filling every corner. My throat worked around a swallow, my palms pressed against my thighs like they could hold them together. He kept going.
“And I’m gonna touch every part of you. Make you forget who you’re mad at, how he hurt you. And you’ll love every second of what I do to you,” he added.
I had to breathe through temptation.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, but my voice shook, a weak laugh dragging itself out of me.
He let my face go and started the car again. “No, you’re ridiculous for denying yourself,” he said.
I didn’t say shit else after that. He was right. My intention had been to fuck him—that was the reason I came—but now I was forbidding myself to. He was too intense for me. I was too soft. I’d end up in love with a man who didn’t even believe in love. And I wouldn’t get to blame him when he broke me. He’d already told me the truth. He laid it out plain. He wasn’t about promises or forever, just the moment. And I couldn’t trust myself to keep it casual.
I leaned my head back against the seat, trying to calm the storm in my chest.
About thirty minutes later, the Miami skyline came into view, the sunrise painting it in soft hues of orange and pink. The sight pulled me back into memories of Oak, of the life we had shared over fifteen years. We’d spent a lot of nights in Miami, tangled in expensive hotel sheets.
It had been a month since I left him at the police station, and the pain hadn’t dulled. Marriage wasn’t supposed to end like this. I wasn’t supposed to be sitting in another man’s car, wondering how I’d let my life get so far off track.
Ciarán didn’t say anything as he pulled into the driveway of a black glass house that looked like it belonged in a music video. He cut the engine and turned to me, his eyes searching mine.
“You good?” he asked, his voice softer than I expected.
I nodded. He reached out, his thumb swiping across my cheek, showing me the wetness. “Then why you crying?”
I blinked, realizing too late that tears had slipped down my face. I turned my head away, embarrassed, trying to pullmyself together. “I’m not crying,” I mumbled, lying even as I felt the tears.
