Chapter 16

Myla

“A re you sure this looks okay?” I asked, nervously brushing down the front of my sweater.

“It’s perfect,” Lou said sweetly.

“I told you to wear the green,” Frankie muttered, searching through the kitchen cabinets for God knew what. “No one ever listens to me.”

“Dinner’s at six,” Cian said, leaning against the front door. “You about done?”

“I think maybe I should change into the green sweater,” I said, grimacing at him. “Frankie’s right, I—”

“How many times have you met my family?” Cian asked in exasperation.

“I don’t know.”

“They’ve seen you in the cutoff shorts that show half your ass.”

“Oh, my god.” They had.

“They totally have.” Frankie snickered.

“The white sweater looks great,” Cian said.

“It’s not white, it’s cream,” I corrected.

“Does it matter?”

“It’s not white, it’s cream,” I repeated.

I could hear the beginning of hysteria in my tone, I just couldn’t seem to hide it. I was freaking out.

“Baby, you know them. What the fuck?”

“First meal with the family,” Lou explained.

“It’s not the first fuckin’ meal,” he argued.

“I’m just going to change into the green real quick,” I announced. “I’ll be right back.”

“No,” Cian said firmly as he stomped toward me.

“It’ll take me two seconds,” I said desperately as he threw me over his shoulder. “Two seconds!”

“The cream sweater looks great,” Lou said hurriedly as she shoved my purse at Cian. “Have fun!”

“Cian!” I screeched as he carried me out the front door. “You’re messing up my hair!”

“Your hair’s fine,” he said calmly, carrying me down the steps. “And you’ll have plenty of time to fix it on the ride over.”

“I have to drive.”

“I’m drivin’.”

“It’s my car!”

“I’m drivin’ your car,” he repeated, setting me on my feet next to the passenger side. “Unless you wanna put a raincoat and helmet on and take the bike.”

“Car,” I said instantly.

“Thought so.”

After pulling out my keys, he handed my purse over.

“You could be a little more understanding,” I complained as he opened my door.

“I understand plenty,” he replied, closing me inside.

I glared through the windshield as he rounded the hood and carefully sat in the driver’s seat, pushing it all the way back before swinging his legs in.

“What do you think you understand?”

“That you’re a lunatic,” he replied, turning the car on. He reached for the heater and turned it up before leaning across the seat and tangling his fingers in my hair.

“You’re messing it up worse,” I said as he pulled me toward him.

“Don’t give a fuck. You’re always gorgeous,” he murmured before laying one on me. “And you’re freakin’ out for no reason.”

“You don’t get it,” I huffed as he let me go.

“I get it,” he argued, putting his hand behind my seat. I lost my train of thought as he looked over his shoulder and backed out of the driveway. Yum.

“It’s Mam and the kids,” he said a few minutes later. “And Aunt Ashley. You know all of ’em.”

“But we weren’t together before.”

“Why the fuck would that matter?”

“Because it does.”

“They liked you before,” he said firmly, his hand playing absentmindedly with the hair at the nape of my neck. “They like you now.”

“Until Aoife asks what my intentions are and I blurt out that I’m just using you for orgasms and she beats the shit out of me in your aunt’s kitchen.”

Cian burst out laughing and glanced at me. “Oh, is that what you’re doin’?”

“No, but I’m nervous! I can’t control what comes out of my mouth.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Not this nervous.”

“I was very nervous for my last college finals,” I replied primly.

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Cian mused. “I remember you drinkin’ until you passed out the night before and then going to your classes in your pajamas.”

“I slept through my alarm! I was very nervous.”

“Yeah, all right, baby.” He smiled at the windshield. “Maybe keep the drinkin’ to a minimum tonight? Since it’s a family thing. Seanie’s there.”

“I’m not going to get wasted at your aunt’s house.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That was not my fault,” I gasped. “Ashley was making the drinks, and you know she did it on purpose!”

“Sure,” he replied mockingly.

“She was! She said they were her signature cocktail, and she just kept handing me new ones before the old ones were gone.”

“Would you look at that?” he said, nodding to the prospect hanging out at the end of the long driveway. “We’re here.”

“Why is he here?” I asked, looking at the prospect as we drove by him.

“Just keepin’ an eye on things when I’m not around.”

“Do you think you need that?”

“Better to be safe,” he said as he parked.

“I know what you did,” I said, smoothing my hair.

“What’s that?”

“You argued with me all the way here so I would stop freaking out.”

“Did I?”

“You know you did.”

Cian shrugged.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

I smiled as we climbed out of the car. Ashley’s property was like an oasis surrounded by trees. There were fairy lights strung along the porch railings, artfully arranged potted plants, a little seating area that had throw pillows and plush cushions in the summer, window boxes full of flowers—the place was gorgeous.

“We’re here,” Cian announced, holding me by the hand as he led me into the house.

“Oh, look everyone, Cian’s here!” Aisling said sarcastically from her spot at the end of the couch. “Sersh, did you see Cian was here?”

“Shut it,” Cian said, kicking off his boots.

I let go of him to take off my own boots, thankful for a moment that I’d put on cute socks.

I needed to get a grip. Nobody gave a shit about my socks.

“Uncle!” Sean called as he came racing around the kitchen island.

“Seanie!” Cian called back, catching Sean as he leaped. “How’s my guy?”

“I good. I had a boogie.”

“We’ve been hearing about the boogie all day,” Aunt Ashley said from her seat at the counter. “Apparently it was impressive.”

“So big,” Sean said with relish. “Mam got it.”

“Highlight of my day,” Aoife said dryly. “Hey, Myla.”

“Hey,” I said, moving around Cian and Sean. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for coming,” Aoife replied. “Cute sweater.”

“Told you,” Cian said, looking up from Sean.

“Zip it,” I said, shooting him a glare. I looked back at Aoife. “Can I help with anything?”

“I’ve got it all covered,” she said easily. “You’re a guest.” She paused. “But only this time. Next time I’ll take the help.”

“That’s fair,” I said with a laugh.

“Come sit with us,” Saoirse called from the chair in the living room. “We’re not allowed in the kitchen either.”

“That’s because this kitchen is the size of a closet,” Aoife said as I moved back toward the living room.

“It’s because I’m a shitty cook,” Aisling informed me. “She’s afraid I’ll ruin it.”

“Ash’s probably right,” Saoirse said, grinning up at me. “But I’m an excellent cook.”

“I’m not great,” I admitted, sitting down on the couch. “I can do a few things really well, though.”

“Yeah, she can,” Cian muttered.

“I’m going to kill you,” I hissed, whipping around to look at him.

“Your chicken casserole thing,” he clarified, watching with relish as my eyes widened with horror. “And that potato soup thing you make.”

Aisling and Saoirse cackled.

“Those are good,” I replied, turning back around. My face felt like it was on fire, and it took every inch of willpower I had not to fan it.

“Uncle, you got liptick on,” Sean announced.

“What?” Cian asked in confusion.

“He’s right,” Saoirse said. “Nice shade of red, but with your coloring, I’d go a little darker next time.”

“Fuck,” Cian muttered, reaching out to pull my hair as he strode down the hallway.

“I want liptick, too,” Sean said as they disappeared.

“Well,” I said, turning back toward them. “That timing couldn’t have been better. I noticed it right before we got out of the car.”

Aisling laughed.

“Sersh,” Aoife called. “Can you come stir this while I finish the biscuits?”

“Notice she didn’t call Ash,” Saoirse said smugly as she left the room.

“I can stir food,” Aisling said dryly. “But I’m still in a careful-around-Aisling bubble, so they don’t ask me to do much.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly.

“Still sore,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s not so bad anymore.”

“The bruises look better.”

“Most of them, yeah.” She smiled crookedly.

“I’m glad.”

“Now if I could just sleep,” she said with a humorless laugh. She waved me off when I winced. “I’m going to talk to someone. I made an appointment next week. We’ll see how it goes.”

“I think everyone should go to therapy,” I replied.

“You go?”

“I have, yeah.”

“Did it help?”

“Definitely.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Aoife’s been on me about it. Which, between me and you, she probably needs it more than me. This whole limbo thing with Richie is really fucking with her.”

“She’s been through a lot,” I said, not really sure what she was referring to. “All of you have. If I thought Cian wouldn’t laugh in my face, I’d try to get him to go.”

“I’ll give you a million dollars if you convince my brother to go to therapy,” she said with a snicker.

“Do you have a million dollars?”

“I’ll get it,” she replied firmly.

“Dinner’s on,” Aunt Ashley called as Cian and Sean came back down the hall.

“I peed on the toe-lit,” Sean announced.

“Nice job, bud,” Aisling said as she stood. She was still moving carefully. I pretended not to notice.

“You didn’t tell me I had lipstick all over me,” Cian murmured as he pulled me up from the couch.

“You didn’t let me change my sweater,” I countered.

We crowded around the little kitchen table. Cian and Saoirse sat on folding chairs, and Sean used one of the barstools from the counter so we’d have enough seats. Cian’s thigh pressed against mine as he poured me ice water from the pitcher being handed around.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Don’t worry, it’s water. Aunt Ashley’s not tryin’ to get you drunk this time.”

I pinched his thigh under the table.

“Are you still going on about that?” Ashley asked, shaking her head. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle your liquor.”

“You kept handing me drinks!”

“You could’ve said no at any point.”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut again. The truth was that I’d wanted to make a good impression, and it had felt rude to tell her to stop.

“How are your parents?” Aoife asked, changing the subject. “It was so nice of them to come to the hospital and everything.”

“They’re good,” I replied, sending her a small smile. “They were glad to be there. We take care of each other.”

“The motorcycle club, right?” Saoirse asked curiously. “It’s because Cian’s a member.”

“Well, yes and no,” I replied, looking at Cian. He nodded, like I needed his permission or something. “Part of it is that, yeah. The club takes care of its own. But Cian’s one of ours, too. Our family, I mean. He’s best friends with Titus, so my parents consider him one of their kids. Even if he wasn’t part of the club, they would’ve been there because they love him.”

“Well put,” Aunt Ashley said.

“Better not screw it up,” Aisling told Cian, gesturing between us. “Doubt they’ll like you so much then.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Aisling,” Aoife snapped. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t have to worry about that,” I said, looking at Aisling. Her shoulders had hunched uncomfortably. “If something happens with me and Cian, they’ll assume it was my fault.”

“Not true,” Cian said quietly, kissing the side of my head. “And nothin’s gonna happen with us.”

“I like that the club looks out for each other.” Saoirse plunged forward. “That’s nice.”

“I like biscuits,” Sean announced. “With honey.”

“Honey’s the best part,” I agreed.

Conversation flowed smoothly after that. Cian’s family was a lot like mine in the way they teased each other. Normally I would’ve hopped right in, but I was still a little anxious about Aisling’s comment, and I wasn’t quite sure where I fit in. I figured I’d eventually find my footing, so I spent most of the night just listening to them. I’d noticed it before, but with such a small group, it was even more apparent how much Saoirse, Aisling, and Cian revered Aoife. They adored her.

As Cian rose to clear the table, I ran my hand along his thigh.

“Sit,” he ordered, leaning down to kiss me. “You’re a guest, remember?” He turned to Aoife. “You want some coffee, Mam?”

“No thanks, bud,” she said, smiling at him as Sean climbed onto her lap. “I’m going to crash in about an hour.”

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” Sean whined.

“It’s not bedtime yet,” she assured him.

He wiggled to get down and came around the table, stopping at my chair. “You wanna see my treasures?”

“You have treasures?” I whispered excitedly.

“Yeah.”

“I’d love to see them.”

I let him lead me from the table by the hand, smiling at Cian as we passed him. Underneath the TV in the living room was a small wooden box that Sean pulled out very carefully and set on the floor between us.

“Cool box,” I said, crossing my legs.

“It’s my daddy’s,” he informed me. His little tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he fiddled with the latch, and he broke out in a huge smile when he got it open.

I oohed and aahed as he proudly pulled out one thing after another. An almost perfectly round rock. A friendship bracelet. A quarter. A penny. A tiny figurine wearing a helmet. A whistle. A tiny green army man connected to a parachute the size of a tissue that was carefully wrapped up.

“You want one?” Sean asked.

“I couldn’t take one of your treasures.”

“You can have one if you want.”

“That’s so nice of you, Sean,” I said, using my finger to sort through the little pile on the rug. “You know what? I think the next time I come over I should bring you something for your collection. What do you think?”

“You gonna bring me a treasure?”

“Yeah, I know just the thing,” I replied. I knew Lou had some embroidery floss at the house, and I was pretty sure I still remembered how to make a bracelet with his name on it from my days at camp.

“Okay,” he said.

“What are you guys doin’ in here?” Cian asked, walking into the room.

“Sean’s showing me his treasures.”

“That’s nice of you, Seanie,” Cian said, crouching behind him. “You still have your Lego man?”

“Yeah.” Sean handed his uncle the helmet-wearing figurine.

“This was mine,” Cian said, grinning at me. “Then it was Ronan’s.”

“Now mine,” Sean added.

“Yep, now it’s yours,” Cian confirmed, giving it back.

We sat with Sean while he gently refilled his box and set it back on the TV stand. When he was done, he hopped up and ran back to the kitchen table.

“He is so cute,” I murmured. “He looks just like Aoife.”

“He looked just like Richie when he was born,” Cian replied, helping me to my feet. “He’s still got his coloring, but he looks way more like a Kelly now.”

“He has all of your mannerisms, too,” I pointed out as Sean tilted his head in a way I’d seen Cian do about a thousand times.

“Can’t really take credit for that,” he muttered, pulling me in for a hug. He kissed my hair. “We both got some of those from Richie.”

“Thanks for inviting me to dinner,” I said, tilting my head back to look at him.

“That was all Mam,” he argued quietly. “If it was up to me, we’d be eating pizza naked in bed again.”

“I think Frankie finished off the pizza today, but I can deliver on the rest of it,” I assured him.

“We’re gonna head out,” Cian announced loudly.

“No, we’re not,” I argued, pushing away from him.

“Myla’s gotta work early.”

“Cian, I do not!”

“She’s just bein’ polite,” he said, following me back to the table. “She’s exhausted.”

“You’re exhausting,” I corrected as I sat back down.

“Where do you work?” Saoirse asked.

We made small talk for half an hour more. When Sean started showing signs of losing it, Cian rose from his spot and put his hand out to me.

“Okay, now it’s really time to go.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” I said, looking around the table. “Next time I’ll have you guys over to my house.”

“Say the word,” Aunt Ashley replied.

Cian pulled out his phone and did something that I couldn’t see as each of his sisters gave me a hug and said goodbye.

Sean wasn’t having any of it, so I told him goodbye from a distance. He wasn’t happy that Cian was leaving, and he made that known. Loudly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cian said, giving the boy a kiss. “Be good for Mam.”

The air had cooled considerably in the couple of hours we’d been there, and I shivered as Cian and I walked outside.

“Told you it would be fine,” he said smugly as he opened my car door.

“Yeah, yeah.” It had gone even better than I’d expected. Considering the fact that Cian’s family had just gone through something extremely traumatic and lost a member because of it, I’d imagined a much more somber mood than the one we’d walked into. Aoife’s eyes had been shadowed, and she’d clearly lost weight, but they’d all been in pretty good spirits. Maybe it was for Sean. The toddler had to be really confused already, making sure that he felt safe and loved had to be their top priority.

We headed back to my place, and I vaguely noticed someone on a Harley passing us just down the road from Ashley’s house, but I wasn’t really paying attention.

“I love your aunt’s house,” I said, rubbing my hands together before tucking them under my thighs. “I bet you had fun when you were little with so much room to roam.”

“Not until I was fourteen,” Cian replied. “We’d never been out here before then.”

“Ah, darn. Past the pirate stage, then,” I joked. “Unless you were a late bloomer.”

“She bought me axes to throw,” Cian said, grinning. “Every tree within fifty yards of the house has some kind of scar.”

“Of course she did.” I laughed, imagining it.

“When I buy it, I’m gonna put in a big shop,” he said thoughtfully. “Not right away, but eventually. And that tree out back, the big oak? Perfect for a treehouse for Seanie.”

“You want to buy it?” I asked in surprise. It was the first I’d heard about it.

“Already have the papers,” he replied easily. “But now that the girls and Seanie are there, it’ll have to wait. That place is crowded enough already.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Aunt Ashley came to me a few months ago, askin’ if I wanted to buy it,” he clarified. “Actually shoulda moved in last weekend.”

“And I’m just hearing about it now?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you pissed?” He glanced at me, his brows pulled together in confusion.

“You were just going to buy the property and move without telling me?”

“I’m sure you woulda figured it out.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“You were buying a house and moving and you didn’t say a word to me about it.”

“It wasn’t a secret. Titus knew. Bas knew. Brody knew. Hell, everyone knew. They were gonna help me move.”

I sunk back into the seat and stared uncomprehendingly out the windshield. We hadn’t been together when he’d made the plans. To be fair, they wouldn’t have affected me at all.

But I’d thought we were best friends before . He knew everything about me. He would’ve been the first one I told if I was selling my house or my car or even my couch. I wasn’t even angry about it. I was stunned.

“Myla, what’s up?” Cian asked. “It’s not like you wouldn’t have found out. I wasn’t movin’ to the moon.”

“You didn’t tell me,” I replied woodenly.

“Didn’t think I needed your permission,” he replied, frustration lacing his voice. “Next time I decide to buy a house, I’ll run it by you first.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“You’ve got your panties in a twist because I was gonna buy my aunt’s house—which I won’t be doin’ until God knows when, by the way, since it’s full of people now and I’d have to sleep in the fuckin’ yard.”

“I don’t care if you buy a house,” I argued. “Buy five! I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Again,” he ground out. “Didn’t know I needed to run it past you.”

“You’re deliberately being obtuse.”

“You’re deliberately bein’ a pain in my ass for no reason,” he shot back as he turned into my driveway. “Jesus Christ.”

“How would you feel if I put my house on the market and just never said anything to you about it?” I asked, unbuckling my seat belt. “And then months later, I’m like oh yeah. That happened. Didn’t think I needed to run it past you.”

Cian stared at me blankly.

“Right,” I snapped, throwing open my door.

“Myla, you’re losin’ your shit for no reason,” he called as he followed me toward the house.

“I’m not losing my shit,” I countered.

“You’re pissed I didn’t ask your permission about buyin’ a house that I haven’t even bought yet.”

“That’s not what I’m pissed about,” I argued, letting myself into the house. “And if you were listening to the words that are coming out of my mouth, you would know that.”

“What’s your problem?” he asked in exasperation, slamming the front door closed. “For fuck’s sake, woman.”

“Don’t woman me,” I spat, tossing my boot in his direction. It bounced off the wall as I reached for the second one. “And don’t wear your wet boots into my house!”

“Fuck me,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I tell you everything.” I tossed the second boot. “And you don’t even tell me the big stuff!”

“I tell you plenty.”

“Sure,” I replied sarcastically. “You’re a regular chatterbox.”

“Myla, come on,” he said tiredly. “We had a good night. Can you just stop?”

“I’m not even pissed.” I threw my hands in the air. “Or, I wasn’t until you acted like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy.”

“You didn’t have to!”

“We gonna do this the rest of the night?”

“You can go home,” I snapped.

Cian just looked at me.

“You were just going to move without saying anything,” I said, dropping my purse on the couch. “What the fuck, Cian?”

“Think back, Myla,” he replied quietly. “What was happenin’ with us a few weeks ago?”

My stomach lurched.

“Yeah. We weren’t talkin’.”

“But you said you knew for months.”

“Aunt Ashley offered a couple of months ago,” he said. “But we were negotiatin’ for a long-ass time because she wanted to sell it to me for way less than it’s worth.”

“Well, why wouldn’t you say anything about it then?” I asked stubbornly.

“Because I didn’t think it was gonna work out.”

“Did you convince her to take more?”

“Hell no, she wore me down,” he muttered.

“Oh.”

We stood there quietly for a few minutes, and I’d never been more grateful for my friends for not coming out of their bedrooms to see what the commotion was about. They could probably hear everything we were saying already, but normally that wouldn’t stop Frankie from coming out to watch the show.

“Don’t tell me to leave,” Cian said finally. “You said you weren’t doin’ that shit anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just meant if you didn’t want to deal with me, you could go.”

“We’re not doin’ that shit anymore,” Cian said, slicing his hand through the air.

“But what if—”

“No.”

“If we’re annoyed with each other, why would you want to stay the night?”

“We’re not datin’, Myla,” Cian replied. “We’re not figurin’ out if this works. We know this works. I’m not sleepin’ without you even if you’re bein’ a bitch.”

“I’m not being a bitch.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“You implied it.”

“Mother of God,” he muttered, shooing me toward the hallway. “Go. Bedroom.”

“Don’t boss me around,” I griped as I walked toward my room. “I’m home,” I called out loudly.

“We know,” Lou called back dryly from behind her bedroom door.

Cian pinched my ass to get me moving, and I practically leaped through my bedroom doorway in surprise.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I said as he closed us in. “Before—you know, before.”

“I didn’t tell anyone at first,” he replied, taking off his cut and laying it over my vanity stool.

“But,” I paused to watch as he pulled off his hoodie. “I’m not anyone .”

“Maybe I wanted to surprise ya.”

“Did you?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “I wasn’t sure if I was gonna buy it, and I wanted to think it over myself before I got anyone else’s opinion.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not like you, Myla,” he added. “Don’t run everythin’ by my mom and my girls and the chick that makes my coffee—”

“To be fair, the chick that makes my coffee is my cousin,” I muttered. “I mean, I call her aunt, but that’s more of a respect thing. She’s actually my dad’s cousin—” I met his eyes. “I’ll shut up now.”

“I know who Charlie is,” he replied flatly.

“Okay, I get not talking about every little thing,” I conceded. “But we’re together now, right? That’s what you said. So, you have to tell me now. Especially when it’s big stuff like that. I deserve to know.”

“I woulda told you before,” he said, shoving his jeans down his hips. “You weren’t talkin’ to me.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“We done arguin’ about this shit?”

I nodded.

He was wearing navy blue boxer briefs, and they didn’t hide anything. Every line of his body was right there for me to stare at, and I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it. I’d found plenty of people attractive in my life, slept with a few of them, admired some of them from afar, but I’d never seen anyone that checked every single box the way Cian did. He was gorgeous and muscular, and his hands were calloused, and his tattoos were fucking fantastic, and I was instantly turned on.

“You gonna wear those clothes to bed?” he asked, reaching down to pull off his socks.

The tattoo on his back was as familiar to me as my own signature. The Aces insignia was distinct and surprisingly beautiful, but seeing it on Cian hit different. It was proof that he was—for lack of a better way to explain it—one of us. He was loyal to my family in a way that would never happen outside of the club and was completely separate from our relationship. There was something profoundly comforting about that.

“I think you were made for me,” I murmured as he straightened.

“That’s good, baby,” he said, his expression softening. “’Cause you were definitely made for me.”

He strode around the bed and reached for the bottom of my sweater, pulling it off in one smooth motion.

“Ah, come on,” he said, staring at my breasts. “You were wearin’ that at dinner with my family?”

“It doesn’t show lines,” I replied. “That sweater shows every bump of a lace bra.”

“It’s see through.”

“It’s seamless.”

“See through mesh .”

“Wait ’til you see the underwear,” I joked.

“They match?” With a quick tug, Cian pulled my pants down to my knees. “Damn,” he murmured, pressing his face into the juncture of my thighs.

I let out a noise of surprise when I felt him nip me through the underwear.

He pushed the pants to my ankles so I could step out of them and turned me around so he could see the back.

“You can’t wear this shit outta the house.”

“Excuse you?”

“Just knowin’ you’ve got this on,” he explained, his hands cupping each side of my ass. “Gonna make things very uncomfortable for me.”

“Spontaneous hard-ons,” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.

He ran his thumb down the shadowed crack of my ass.

“You should see the black set,” I teased.

“Can’t believe you’ve been wearin’ underwear that looks like this and I had no fuckin’ clue,” he said with a groan.

I shook my ass a little and let out a gasp when he slapped it.

I was still standing there a little stunned when he rose to his feet and spun me around, his mouth going straight to my nipple and pulling it into his mouth, the bra adding friction to the tug.

His hands spanned my hips as he maneuvered us around the bed, moving between my nipples like he couldn’t decide which one he wanted more. I didn’t care which side he chose, but with every pass there was an excruciating second when he wasn’t touching either of them. With one hand, I tried to keep him in place while I used the other to slide into the front of his boxers, wrapping my fingers around him tightly.

“Turn,” he ordered, pulling my hands away.

I moaned in protest as I spun around, and then I was staring at us in the vanity mirror.

My nipples were cherry red through the light pink mesh, the fabric translucent from the wet. Cian stood behind me, his shoulders shadowing our reflection as he met my eyes. His hands came up to pinch my nipples, and I couldn’t look away as he rolled them through the fabric, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder.

Leaning my head back against him, I watched, following the movement of his hands as one slid down my belly and into the front of my panties.

“Fuck,” I moaned as his middle finger grazed my clit.

“Slick already,” he praised, his finger circling.

I widened my stance, my hips instinctively following the movement. When he slipped the finger inside me, I arched, trying to get closer as my hand wrapped around his wrist. If he stopped, I was going to lose it.

“That’s right,” he whispered against my neck. “Look at you.”

I whimpered, my free hand moving between us to find his cock again, the elastic of his boxers snapping against my wrist as I shoved my hand inside. The tip of his cock was wet, and I moaned as I wrapped my fingers around him.

“Hands on the table,” he said roughly, letting go of my breast to press gently between my shoulder blades.

I caught myself before tipping forward and met his eyes in the mirror.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

I blushed, and he grinned.

Then his hand slid out of my underwear, and he yanked them halfway down my thighs.

“Leave them,” he ordered, slapping my ass again as I reached to take them off.

He dropped out of my sight, and a second later, his tongue was gliding along the sensitive flesh between my thighs. I was thankful to be holding on when my legs turned to jelly beneath me. My eyes drifted closed and then popped back open when another stinging slap landed on my ass, this one very close to the spot Cian’s mouth had just abandoned.

“Eyes open,” he ordered before his mouth returned.

I mumbled nonsense as he took me to the edge over and over again. First softly and slowly, then roughly and without mercy, then back to slow. By the time he stood behind me again, my eyes were watering, my hairline was damp with sweat, and every inch of my body felt so sensitive to the touch that I thought I might scream.

I could’ve cried with relief when he finally gripped my hips and pushed slowly inside, the swollen flesh protesting for only a moment before letting him in.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his eyes on me in the mirror.

He pulled back and slid in again slowly. My legs shook.

Then his hands tightened as he slid out again, softly, gently, before thrusting back inside hard. I lost all ability to reason as I came sobbing his name. The orgasm lasted so long that by the time I came back down, Cian’s arm was wrapped across my chest with his hand on my opposite shoulder, holding me up just inches from the vanity top.

“So good,” he murmured into my neck. “Fuck, baby. Never had anythin’ like it.”

“Need to lay down,” I mumbled, pressing myself up on rubbery arms.

“So beautiful,” Cian said softly, pulling out slowly.

He helped me straighten and turned me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. One hand held me tightly as the other slid down over the tender cheeks of my ass.

“You got my handprints,” he said, soothing the marks with his fingertips.

“Yeah, what was that about?” I joked tiredly.

“You liked it,” he replied simply.

“No one’s ever done that before,” I said foggily as I stumbled to the bed and fell face first onto it.

Cian was quiet behind me until I turned my head to look at him.

“Don’t mind knowin’ you’re gettin’ somethin’ new from me,” he said darkly. “Don’t like hearin’ about what you’ve had before.”

“Noted,” I replied, closing my eyes. I didn’t want to hear about him being with other people either.

I lay there while he pulled on his boxers and jeans and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. I knew he wasn’t going far with his hoodie and cut still laying on the vanity stool that we’d pushed halfway under the table during our sexscapades. A few minutes later, he came back in the room and pressed a warm, wet cloth between my legs, cleaning me gently from behind.

I was so wrung out I could’ve slept for a month, but I still found myself pulling one of my knees higher on the bed to give him better access.

Cian chuckled quietly and pulled the washcloth away. His calloused fingers played gently, so softly that the sensation almost tickled. When he brushed my clit, I nearly jumped off the bed, but a firm hand on the small of my back stopped me from moving.

“Too much,” I gasped through my teeth, the sensation almost painful.

“You can take it,” he argued, his fingertip brushing back and forth. “Ride it, baby.”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can,” he said in satisfaction. “You’re drippin’ down my hand.”

“Cian,” I gasped as his thumb slipped inside me.

“Ride it, Myla.”

I jerked my hips, and I wasn’t sure if I was trying to get more or less. My breath was sawing in and out of my lungs, and my teeth were clenched so hard that my jaw ached when he pinched my clit hard between two of his fingers.

My orgasm didn’t hit in waves. It throbbed through every part of my body from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

I barely stayed awake long enough for Cian to situate me on the bed and pull the blankets over us. I crashed so hard that when I woke up a few hours later, my mouth was dry from hanging open. Cian was snoring softly behind me.

Climbing carefully out of bed, I pulled on my new silk robe and wandered into the kitchen for a drink of water. The house was silent and dark, and I moved through it by memory as I grabbed a glass and got some water out of the tap.

The moon was out, but it only lit parts of my backyard because of the cloud cover. I stood in the window drinking my water as I struggled to see the dark parts of the yard.

That’s when I remembered the weird thing Aisling had said about Aoife being in limbo.

Why would Aoife be in limbo? Was there something happening with Richie’s estate? They were married, so it seemed like everything would just automatically go to her, right? The house had been hers before they were married, but maybe they’d put it in his name. Was that part of the reason they were staying at Ashley’s house?

I put my glass in the sink and made my way back to bed, still trying to puzzle it out. Cian was still sleeping soundly as I dropped the robe and climbed back beneath the covers. I should ask him about it.

His breathing never even hitched as he rolled toward me and wrapped his arm around me, his palm finding my breast in his sleep.

I smiled and relaxed back against him and dozed off almost immediately.

The next morning, I completely forgot to ask him about Aoife.

Things might have gone differently if I’d remembered.

But probably not.