Page 69 of Playing Dirty
She nods, unhurried, and pours a measure of something amber, sliding it across to me and then drifts back to her glasses. The first sip burns pleasantly the whole way down, spreading warmth out from my chest, and does absolutely nothing to shift Cillian from my head. If anything it settles him more firmly there.
Tomorrow we fly home and I'm officially off the clock. Nomore work trip, just two people who can figure out how to be discreet while the media storm burns itself out.
That part I could plan for. I'm good at planning. What I can't get a handle on is how far I'm already gone for him, the way I catch myself hunting for his face in every room, and how often I turn to find him already looking back at me.
I turn the glass slowly between my fingers, watching the light move through it.
The truth, the one I've been circling all night, is that I like him enough that the thought of this not working is hard to breathe around. That kind of heartbreak is why I've picked safe and forgettable men for so long.
And Cillian isnotsafe. He has a way of looking at me that undoes every careful thing I've built. But like Sabrina said. Better to live a little than keep hiding behind a stack of beige cardigans.
I drain the last of the whisky, settle the bill, and head up toward my room.
Upstairs the corridors are hushed, deep green walls and dark paneled wood swallowing the noise, the storm reduced to a low rumble somewhere beyond the stone. I'm nearly to my door, key card in hand, my brain still running Sabrina's advice on a loop and getting nowhere useful with it, when I hear footsteps down the hall.
"Hey, Ace."
I turn, and there's Cillian, walking toward me, a bit rain-soaked, dark hair windblown and unfairly good for it, like he'd been styled that way on purpose for a magazine shoot about rugged men and bad weather. I really wish I'd checked a mirror.
"Hey yourself." My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs as he reaches me, and I slowly lower my key card. "Just calling it a night?"
"Aye, my room's just a few doors down." He gestures vaguely toward the corridor behind me. "The kids were great craic,honestly. Though I did get ambushed by a handful of very persistent reporters on the way out, mind you."
I let out a soft laugh. "Oh no.Youdidn't enjoy being the center of attention for once?"
"Shockingly, not in the slightest," he says, blue eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes my stomach do a slow flip. "Are you turning in?"
I nod. "Yep. I figured I'd try to get a head start on sleep before our flight back tomorrow morning."
"Aye, I'm with you there." His smile softens. "Well, I'll not keep you. Sleep well, Ace. I'll see you at breakfast, then."
"Yep. Sleep well."
He walks past me toward his room, and my pulse slams against my ribs, drowning out every rational thought I have left. I feel right and wrong all at once, like a live wire pulled taut under my skin, vibrating with a desperate, frantic energy I can't hold in another second, like I might actually combust from the sheer force of how much I want him.
I can't survive another second of this, of pretending the pull between us isn't swallowing me whole. Whether it's the whiskey loosening my last nerve, Sabrina's blunt advice, or finally just fucking surrendering to what's felt inevitable since the start, I'm at my breaking point.
“Cillian!” I spin around, the name bursting out of me. He stops, his key card already poised at the lock of a door just down the hall.
“You alright?” His brow furrows in immediate concern, his full attention returning to me.
I close the distance between us in four determined strides and stop directly in front of him.
“I just… I—” The confession dies in my throat as I look up into those deep blue eyes. “Oh, to hell with it!”
I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to me. The kiss is tentative for exactly one second before he’s taking over, hishands roaming my body with a possessive urgency that leaves me lightheaded. I tangle my fingers in his damp hair, my entire body humming as he pins me against the cool wood of his hotel door.
Without breaking the kiss, he reaches blindly behind me with the key card, and after a fumbled second the lock beeps and the door swings open behind me. His arm bands around my waist, keeping me upright as he walks me inside, his mouth never leaving mine.
He kisses me deeper, tongue sliding against mine, lips warm and hungry, his hands roaming, big and sure and possessive. I let out a shaky gasp against his mouth, my knees threatening to give way entirely. He maneuvers me backwards into the room, my own hands frantic as I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.
He pulls back for a second, both of us panting in the shadows of the foyer, and he looks at me with an intensity so raw it makes my breath hitch.
"I don't want a one-night stand, Ace," he rasps, his forehead leaning against mine. "I want all of you. I want a real go at this."
“I know. I don't want that either. I just couldn't wait another second for you to touch me."
He looks at me with a look of pure, unadulterated hunger, and I've never felt so wanted by another person. Then his mouth is back on mine, and I sink into his kiss, surrendering to the fire that's been building between us since the very start.
