She managed a couple more bites before setting her fork down. “I think I’ll get a shower if that’s all right.”
Siobhan reached out when Lyse would’ve picked up her plate. “Leave that for me, dear. I’ll take care of it.” A smile played around her lips. “You’ll be needing to wrap that bandage so it stays dry. Fionn can help you with that while I’m taking care of the kitchen.”
Fionn shot his mother a look, part shock, part frustration. He had nothing to worry about. Lyse doubted she was playing matchmaker between her son and the woman who’d almost killed him. She looked a little harder at Siobhan. Then again… No, surely not. Likely she thought Fionn had seen it all already with them sleeping in the same room.
Would he be cuffing her tonight, with her injury? God, she hoped not. Sleep was going to be uncomfortable enough as it was.
“I left the supplies to change her bandage afterward on the chest in your room,” Siobhan was telling Fionn. Lyse refused to look at him again, not wanting to see distaste in his eyes. He wouldn’t want to be looking at her.
Then again, she couldn’t deal with the bandages on her own, not where they were. She shrugged, then winced when pain shot through her side. Not checking to see if Fionn was following, she headed for their bedroom.
Their bedroom. Jesus. Dangerous thought.
Booted steps followed her down the hall. In the room Lyse walked to her side of the bed, sat, and lifted the edge of her shirt. See? No big deal. Nothing intimate about this. At all.
Fionn knelt before her and placed his warm palm on her belly. She flinched, less from the discomfort and more from the heat. Why did he have to be so warm? It made her want to curl up against him like an electric blanket.
Okay, not just like an electric blanket, but still…
“Looks good so far,” Fionn said, eyeing the bandage, then her upthrust arm. “That can’t be comfortable.” He stood and turned to the supplies laid out on the chest. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” Her arm bumped into her wound as she dropped it, drawing a grunt of pain from her. “I’m not taking my shirt off.”
Fionn threw her a look over his shoulder. “Take it off. This’ll go easier. It’s not like I haven’t seen tits before.”
Tits? “Seen what?”
Approaching her again, this time with tape and scissors in hand, Fionn raised an eyebrow. “Tits. Ya know”—he gestured toward her chest—“breasts. Whatever you wanna be calling ’em.”
Lyse gripped the hem of her shirt like she thought Fionn would force it off her. Which was ridiculous. Really. But she couldn’t let go. “‘Tits’ is considered vulgar in the States,” she said, sounding prissier than she’d meant to.
Fionn gave her a wicked grin. “Like pussy?”
Lyse choked.
Now he outright laughed. Her cheeks were hot, and she knew she was red as a beet. “It’s better than some things I could be calling ’em,” Fionn said. “I call it a cock, not a penis; you’ve got tits. Believe me, it’s not an insult. I love tits.” He gestured up with the hand holding the scissors. “Shirt. Off.”
“Was that supposed to make me feel less self-conscious?”
Fionn growled at her. “Just take the fecking shirt off.”
Lyse took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes closed, and whipped the shirt over her head. Pain shot through her side. “Ow ow ow ow!”
When the ringing finally died in her ears, she realized Fionn was beside her again, his hand in hers, letting her squeeze. Thank God his hands were so big or she’d probably have broken his fingers. “That hurt like hell,” she wheezed.
“Gotta move slow and easy, love.” Fionn’s breath caressed her shoulder, collarbone. Her naked skin.
A shiver rippled along her spine. Goose bumps popped up.
“Cold?” Fionn shifted back onto his heels. “We’ll be gettin’ you into a warm shower right quick.”
Couldn’t happen fast enough, not because she was cold, but because she’d be away from Fionn instead of right next to him, his hands on her bare skin. Her nipples tightened. At least she had a bra on. God, please don’t let him see how he affects me.
If he did, he didn’t mention it. Instead he cut the first strip of tape and laid it along the top edge of her bandage. She tried to look anywhere but at him, tried to ignore the feel of his rough fingers against her, tried to breathe…but not breathe too fast. She’d never been naked like this in front of a man before. Only in her wildest fantasies had the first man been Fionn.
Don’t think about fantasies right now.
Fionn smoothed down another length of tape. “Open heart surgery, yeah?”
Lyse glanced down. She hadn’t even been thinking about the long pinkish-silver scar that traveled the length of her breastbone. Now she reached up instinctively, rubbing away the phantom ache that too often came with her memories.
“Yeah. When I was a kid.”
“Why?” Fionn asked.
“I was born with a malformation of the heart,” Lyse said quietly. “My birth mother gave me up for adoption; she couldn’t afford my care, they said. I was with my foster parents by the time I had the surgery.”
Fionn worked silently for a moment. “But everything’s all right now?”
“Yes. All healed.” She rubbed at her breastbone again.
“It’s all right; no worries,” Fionn murmured, his hand clasping her wrist and pulling it down. Along the way, the back of his knuckles brushed the tip of her breast.
Her breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t help but feel how hard her nipple was, how aroused she was, even with the pain from her wound. He wouldn’t be able to miss the blush creeping along her skin. Lyse closed her eyes, turned her head away from him. Why did she have to feel this way? Why Fionn? Even if he did want her, even if he could forgive her, she would never be enough for someone as experienced as him. A clueless computer nerd dreaming about the sexiest man alive. She had nothing to offer him—
The touch came again, a brief brush against the cloth-covered nipple.
Lyse whipped her head around, her eyes opening. Fionn’s gaze was glued to her breasts, to their hands clasped together, barely skimming the underside of the round globe now. She fought the need to arch into that touch, to press herself harder against him. To beg for more. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, though, even when that molten gaze traced the pink stain of arousal from her chest to her neck to her cheeks.
His eyes met hers.
She couldn’t read the emotion swirling there; all she knew was, it wasn’t hatred. It looked a lot like anger, but she didn’t think that was it either. Remembering their kiss last night, she licked her dry lips instinctively, moistening them for him, maybe teasing him—if she even knew how to tease. Could she tease him?
She hadn’t realized she was inching forward, bringing their lips close, until Fionn blinked. The spell locking them together broke.
The disappointment hurt more than her side.
“We’d better be gettin’ you into the shower,” Fionn said, his voice hoarse.
Chapter Fourteen
His balls were drawn up tight, ready to explode, and all it had taken was a hard nipple and soft, silky skin. When she’d taken off her shirt—hell. His cock had threatened to punch through his zipper, and that was before he’d made the mistake of touching her. A mistake he wouldn’t be escaping, not if he had to protect her injury.
He should stand up, turn his back, walk away. Stop letting himself get close enough to Lyse to forget everything but her body. He’d walked away from enough women that it should be easy. So why wasn’t it? Why did he find himself wanting her every time they breathed the same air, then hating himself after? This woman had betrayed him. Why the hell did his body want hers?
He prodded at the idea like a sore tooth, but the anger he expected didn’t come. Maybe his blue balls were doing the thinking for him at the moment.
Drawing out another strip of tape, he secured one end at the bottom corner of
her bandage, laying the length along the edge until the opposite corner adhered to her bare skin, then cut the end. Two more strips and she’d be ready for the shower.
The next strip went down easy, but the last one crossed directly over the wound on her side. As he laid the tape firmly onto the bandage, Lyse flinched away, a pain-filled hiss escaping her.
His free hand went automatically to her opposite side, holding her in place. The warmth of her skin registered against his palm, and he splayed his fingers, seeking out more, covering as much of her as he could get. Smooth silk against calloused skin.
A groan rose in his throat. He choked it back, lifted his head from the sight of all that creamy skin, those full tits—
And looked straight into gold-flecked eyes mere inches from his.
Lyse’s breath caught. Time froze as they stared at each other, as his heart thundered against his ribs and the pounding of Lyse’s heartbeat vibrated beneath his hand. He hadn’t realized he was moving closer until her breath whispered across his lips.
They opened.
“Fionn?”
He should stop—he knew it. Lyse probably knew it too. But he couldn’t; he had to be tasting her. Just a wee bit. One small taste…
Her mouth flowered open beneath his. Heaven, that’s what he found inside her. And hell, because she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth. He wanted more, and he went after it, licking into her, playing with her tongue, tracing the lips that felt like the softest velvet. He tilted his head until the fit was just right, until he could thrust inside her, tempt her tongue to join his. Until sweetly, tentatively, she did.
He couldn’t hold back the groan then.
Lyse tipped her head back, breaking free to suck in a deep breath, and he took the invitation, tracing her skin with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Goose bumps rose beneath his touch, telling him all he was needin’ to know about her response. Pleasure flared deep in his gut, unlike anything he’d felt before. This was where he was meant to be, lost in her taste, in the wonder of her smooth skin beneath his mouth and hands. He shouldn’t be kissing her, exploring her…should he? It didn’t mean anything. Lyse was convenient. Here. Except he wasn’t wanting to stop, especially not when his hand glided along her flat belly to the heated core of her body and pushed hard between her legs, seeking out the warmth he had to have now, this second, before his heart took its very next beat.
Lyse’s thighs opened to his demand. A shudder went through her as his fingertips reached her pussy. “Fionn!”
He jerked back, blinking away the fog of lust. Lyse’s face came into focus, desire giving her a sweet glow he’d never seen before. A glow he wanted to see over and over. He’d never be after gettin’ enough of her.
Of Lyse.
His gut lurched. He shoved up onto his feet and backed away until he hit the dresser across the room. As far away as he could get.
Lyse blinked wide, hurt eyes up at him. “Fionn?”
He leaned back, letting the hard edge dig into his spine. Refusing to speak.
“I don’t…” Lyse shook her head. Her gaze shifted from his, landing somewhere near his chest. “I-I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
He didn’t understand it either, and that was driving him fecking crazy. “I’m getting you ready to shower.”
“No,” she said, meeting his eyes again. Letting him look down deep inside her—or was she? A vee dug a groove between her brows like she was trying to find the words to explain. He wanted to shout at her to stop, to keep it all bottled up inside until he could walk through the door and out of her life.
Because he didn’t have the answers. He didn’t want the answers, didn’t want to think about it, talk about it, have it be real.
“I mean us, this,” she insisted. “Why, if you hate me, do you keep touching me?”
Because I can’t keep my hands under my control—and that’s never happened before. I’m always in control. And I hate you for breaking that in me more than anything else.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, pulling tight. “Feck if I know.”
Lyse rocked back, her eyes darkening as he stared her down. “So I’m a toy? Is that it?”
“You’re not a toy, Lyse. And I’ve never treated you like one.”
“Then this is, what? Convenience? You said you loved tits. Maybe mine are just irresistible when your hands get too close to them. You need a woman and I’m right there, so why not?” Fire lit in her eyes. Anger. Her body tightened as the emotion washed through her in an almost visible wave. “You want sex and you’re stuck on assignment with only one convenient woman, even if it’s a woman you hate, is that it?”
“Damn it, I’m not sleeping with you!”
“Why not?” She tried to shift back on the bed, stopping only when pain forced her to—he could see it in the way her fingers balled into fists, the way the white lines appeared around her mouth. The way her anger ratcheted up even more. “It’s not like you haven’t fucked plenty of women you had no desire to commit to. That brunette the other night didn’t want you to marry her, did she?”
Her eyes went wide; she hadn’t meant to say that.
“How the hell do you know about that?”
His voice had gone deadly soft, and Lyse hesitated, turned her head away from his. He was across the room instantly, her jaw in his fist, forcing her to look at him, to meet his eyes and face his demand for the truth.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. When he tightened his fingers the slightest bit, a whimper escaped her. He ignored it.
“Have you been watching me?”
She shook her head as far as his grip would allow her. “There are no cameras in your house, Fionn.”
That wasn’t what he’d asked. “Then how do you know anything about my sex life?”
She didn’t answer.
He wasn’t above using his body to intimidate; he loomed over her, letting her feel his power. He would have his answers whether she wanted to give them or not. “How. Do you. Know?”
“I-I saw you. At the bar. Milligan’s. A couple of nights ago with the brunette.”
Shit. “How?”
“CCTV.”
She’d been watching him that night. He remembered clearly—the woman between his legs, his fingers inside her. Except it hadn’t been the woman he was with that he’d wanted.
The knowledge tightened his stomach into a knot.
“You’ve been watching me on CCTV? For how long?”
Lyse shrugged, the movement abrupt. Anything but casual. She knew she was in trouble. “I’ve watched the whole team.”
“Have sex?”
The shrug came again as Lyse dropped her focus to the side despite his grip. “None of them have sex in public.”
The words hit him like a blow. Lyse flinched back as curses flew from his mouth. Only when she cried out did he realize how tight his grip on her had gotten. He dropped his hand and surged to his feet. He had to get away from her, had to get himself under control.
He slammed both fists down on the dresser top. “You had no right!”
The wood shuddered beneath another slam, echoing the feeling in his chest. He’d known she’d betrayed him. Known that everything about her was a lie. He’d even known she had the ability to be doing anything with a computer, including tracking each and every one of her coworkers.
Still, he hadn’t imagined this.
Lyse’s soft words sliced through his thoughts like a knife. “No, I didn’t have the right,” she agreed. “I didn’t. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you sure as hell shouldn’t have!” Fire flashed through him, part shame this time, and part something he didn’t have any desire to identify. Instead he used it like a weapon. “What are you, some kind of voyeur?”
Lyse hesitated for a long moment. Fionn kept his fists on the dresser, kept his back turned, afraid of what he’d do if he let himself get near her again. “No,” she said, just as quiet as before, “it’s not that a
t all.”
“Then what is it? Why watch me?”
“You know why,” she finally whispered, the words so quiet he would’ve had to strain to hear them if he hadn’t been so intent on her, hadn’t been hyperaware of every move she made, every breath she dragged into her lungs, every sound escaping her lips. He whirled around—
And stopped short. Lyse’s fingers were balled into a fist that rubbed hard at her chest like she had earlier, only this time— God, she was shaking. It hurt, looking at her, seeing her so vulnerable. And that fist…
It was her tell, he realized. When she was anxious or nervous. Had he ever noticed that about her before?
No, because he hadn’t truly noticed her before.
Except that wasn’t true either. He’d noticed her too much; that was why her betrayal had hit him so hard. Why he couldn’t let it go. Because this woman he wasn’t supposed to want was really the one who’d drawn him over and over. Hell, he wasn’t blind to the fact that most of the women he dated had dark hair and delicate builds, just like Lyse. That when he closed his eyes and touched a woman, took her, he was imagining someone else beneath him. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, though, not because Lyse was too young—the excuse he’d given Deacon time and again—but because she was too naive. Because the innocence shining from her eyes hadn’t been for him to take, no matter how much he’d wanted to.
Except she wasn’t innocent, was she? It had all been an act.
The frustration of that, the anger sharpened his voice. “There’s nothing for you to be worrying about. I’ll not touch you again.”
Sad eyes rose to meet his. Did she realize how much those eyes revealed? How they could tear a man to shreds with a single look? “I know.”
God, he was a bastard.
A heavy growl escaped him, and he realized he was shaking too—with the need to take her, the need to run. Before he did something he knew he’d regret later, he forced himself away from the dresser. “Let’s go.”
Lyse flinched away, then paled as pain had her flinching again. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I can manage on my own, thanks.” She gave him a smile, the same one she’d always given him when they used to work together, but this one never reached her eyes. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Would you tell Siobhan I need her for the new dressing, please?”
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 9