Page 86 of Playing Dirty
He smiles. "Then I'll be the first member of your club, too."
"Is that so?" I shift my weight, straddling his lap and resting my palms against those heavy shoulders. "Right then. What’s the inaugural pick? I’m partial to something light and escapist, but maybe we should lead with a classic.Persuasion. We'll start there. Jane Austen is always a safe bet for the soul."
"Grand book. Half agony, half hope, all that."
I pull back slightly to stare at him. "You've read it?"
He nods. "Fiadh and I used to swap paperbacks. That was one of her favorites."
"Oh, wow." I lean in, brushing my nose against his. "She has impeccable taste."
"Hey,I'mthe one who just gave it a glowing review."
"Fiadh and I really should compare bookshelves," I continue, ignoring his indignation. "She strikes me as a woman with a very sophisticated?—"
He tickles my side and I shriek, collapsing sideways into the sofa cushions. He grins down at me, merciless, and by the time I've fought my way free of his grip we're both breathless and I've lost my train of thought entirely. Which was clearly his objective.
"So, what's the agenda for the Seattle trip?" I ask, smoothing my hair back into some kind of order. "I still need to sort out ahotel for myself and figure out the transport logistics, but I can'twait."
Perhaps the most shocking development in our entire relationship is that I'mactuallystarting to enjoy hockey. Heaven help me. I missed the first two Seattle games, but I'm sneaking up for the next one, just for the night, back on a morning flight before anyone notices I'm gone.
“I told you I’d take care of all of that, Ace. You don’t need to worry about it.”
"Oh, please, you have more than enough going on," I say, waving him off. "You're in the middle of the playoffs. I can book a hotel."
He grins. "It's no bother and I don't mind a bit. Besides, it's already done. I forwarded you the confirmations earlier."
"What?" I grab my phone off the coffee table and scroll. "I didn't see... oh. There it is. I completely missed it."
I pull the screen closer, hoping he can't see me brace. I usually hate other people handling my travel, or anything else for me, really, because some part of me is always convinced I'd have done it better myself. The curse of a type A personality.
But there's nothing here to fix. A luxury hotel with views over Elliott Bay, a suite booked under my name. Early check-in, because he knows I'll want to shower and relax before the game. A spa package for the morning after, timed so I can still easily make my flight. A note about private car service, since we're still being careful about being seen together, with the driver's name and number already included. And the whole thing is laid out in one tidy email, broken into labeled sections, dates bolded.
"It's exactly how I like it," I say quietly. "You took care of everything."
"Aye, well. I know how much you value a good plan," he says, his voice softening. "And I wanted it to be exactly how you like it."
He reaches out to brush a stray hair from my face, his touch so tender it makes my heart ache. And the words rise up my throat before I can stop them. "Cillian, I think I'm falling in love with you."
I know it might be too soon, that I'm risking the peaceful bubble we've built. But I feel it so deeply I can't keep it inside another second. And sitting here next to him, in the space of a breath, all the fear and tension just... evaporates. He looks at me, his blue eyes dark and certain, and he smiles.
"I know I’ve already fallen in love with you," he says simply.
I beam at him, my whole soul going lighter. "Really? Because honestly, falling might be underselling it, I just didn't want to scare you and... ah!"
He hauls me back across his lap and I tumble into him laughing, straddling him as his arms band around my waist, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of my neck.
"Mmmm." My head tips sideways to give him more room, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
He takes the invitation, kissing down my throat, grazing his teeth over the spot that makes me shiver, and his hands start to roam, sliding up my back, down over my hips, pulling me tighter against him until I can feel his cock hardening beneath me.
His touch lights me up everywhere his palms go, the friction of his skin against mine setting my blood on fire. The kiss turns hungry, desperate, and I grind my hips against him, wanting him with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
I've never felt this consuming hunger for anyone, and lately it's as if I'm insatiable, driven by a desperate need I can't contain. All I can focus on is him, the way he makes me feel so completely unraveled. I pull back just enough to breathe and look at him, feeling drunk on the proximity.
I lean in and kiss him again, then he kisses me back, slow and thorough, one hand in my hair while the other grips my hip hard, and I melt into him completely.
I rock against him instinctively, just needing to be closer somehow, and the friction sends a spark through me that makes me gasp against his mouth. He groans, low and rough, and his fingers tighten on my hips.
