“Is that all?”
He exhales roughly, then drops his hands. “Yeah.”
There’s a war going on inside him. I can feel it. See it in his face, the way his jaw flexes and contracts. The agony in his eyes as they watch me.
I take a step back, needing to distance myself. I can’t think when he’s this close to me. And I’ve already suffered the consequences of listening to my body and heart when it comes to him.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I never wanted to hurt ye.”
But you did. You shattered me. You’re still shattering me.
He moves towards me. “Delaney, I–”
“Don’t.” I won’t be able to resist him if he touches me again. And if I’m going to hold on to what’s left of my shredded heart, I need to resist him.
“Ye want me to go?”
No. I want you to stay. I want you to fight for me. For us.
I swallow hard and nod.
His nostrils flare, and when he turns to walk away my throat sinks in my chest.
At the door, he stops, his back to me, and every muscle in his body is tight with tension.
He curses under his breath, then turns and storms towards me.
“What are–”
His fingers bury in my hair and his lips crash down on mine before I have the chance to utter a protest.
The moment he’s touching me, the second his hard body is pressed against mine, I know I’m lost.
His scent.
His taste.
They undo me.
All I can do is submit to his body and mouth.
When he finally pulls back, his expression has changed. It’s wild and possessive. And for a split second, I allow myself to hope.
“What are you doing?” The words come out breathy, need mixed with uncertainty.
“God, Delaney,” he says roughly against my lips. “I’ve missed ye.”
“I missed you, too.” I place my palms on his chest. They’re shaking. My whole body is now.
He tilts my chin up, making me look at him. There’s something in his eyes, a flicker of hope, that makes my chest tighten. I see the need there, the hunger for more than just words.
He kisses me again. This time slower and gentler, and I swear I can feel my heart slowly mending with each caress, each touch – and it scares the hell out of me. Because it only means he’ll be able to shatter it again when he leaves.
Chapter 32
Cillian
I know I need to take things slow, but the need for her touch, her body, her kiss, is too much. The past four months of my life have been hell, and now that she’s with me again, I finally feel like the piece of me that was missing is complete.
Tightening my fingers in her hair, I kiss her harder and moan into her mouth, “I need ye.”
She doesn’t hesitate, her hands are on me, fingers grasping at my clothes, trying to connect flesh to flesh.
We barely make it to her bedroom before I’m shedding my pants, my shirt, my boxer briefs. I remove her tank and pajama pants, and my mouth and hands roam across every inch of her body, like a man drowning, and her my only source of air.
“God, Delaney. Ye have no idea how much I’ve dreamed about touching ye again. How much I’ve needed ye.”
She lets out a small whimper in acknowledgement, and weaves her fingers through my hair, tugging my mouth back to hers.
Gripping her ass, I lift her so that her thighs straddle my hips and carry her to the edge of the bed. I crawl across the mattress with her still clinging to me as I pin her to the bed.
Our mouths collide, reckless and demanding. Her taking as much as I can give, which is everything. Every fiber of my being. I’m completely and utterly lost in her.
She moans beneath me. “Cillian.”
My name is a plea, begging me to fill her as she rocks her hips up, rubbing herself against my erection.
“Wait,” I breathe out roughly, pressing my forehead against hers, and holding back from burying myself inside her with no protection. “Do ye have anything?”
She blinks up at me, then shakes her head.
Shit.
“But, I’m…” A hint of insecurity flashes in her eyes. “I haven’t been with…anyone…not since…”
Relief floods through me at what she doesn’t admit.
“I haven’t been with anyone else either, not since long before I met ye.” It’s the truth. Not that I hadn’t had multiple opportunities, but none of them were Delaney.
None of them could fill the ache in my chest.
“I’m on the pill.” She runs her fingers down my chest, across my abs, then rests her palms on my hips.
It’s enough for me. Even if she wasn’t on the damn pill, it would be enough. Because I have every intention of claiming her completely.
I kiss her again, not holding back. I let out a harsh groan as her slick, warm flesh encases the crest of my cock, then I slowly sink into her. She stretches around me, her thighs opening, hips arching.
My muscles shake as I hold myself above her, and I barely hold onto the loose thread I have on my control. It’s been too long, and the feeling of her silky heat wrapped around my bare cock is the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt.
Beneath me, she moves her hips, her body begging for more.
When I catch her gaze, my chest tightens at the emotions I see in her eyes. They match my own. Lust. Affection. Love. It’s overwhelming. And scary as hell. I’ve never known this feeling for any other woman.
I want to possess her.
All of her.
Make her mine.
And never let her go – never again.
Her legs tremble as she tightens them around my hips.
Buried deep inside her, I lose my last ounce of control. I rock into her, again and again, savoring every little sound that comes from her lips, knowing I want to spend the rest of my life memorizing every moan and sigh, every place on her body that makes her whimper and shudder with desire.
Her mouth parts on a cry, and I press my lips against hers, as I feel the first waves of her orgasm wrapping around my cock, ripping through my senses.
Flames scorch my already heated skin.
“Cillian,” she cries out, fingers digging into my hair.
An eruption of heat tears through me, the pleasure too much. I explode within her, each pulse of my release matched by her own small spasms.
I nuzzle her neck and press a gentle kiss to the hollow beneath her ear, before rolling over, keeping her with me, not willing to let her go. After tonight, I know that losing her isn’t a possibility I’m willing to live with.
She’s mine.
But even as I think it, I know the truth. It’s me who belongs to her. Every last shredded ounce of my soul is hers.
Chapter 33
Delaney
The bed is cold and empty when I roll over, and before I even open my eyes, I know Cillian is gone.
I want to be wrong. I pray I’m wrong as I roll out of bed and gather my pajama bottoms and top, then put them on. I check the bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen. But they’re all empty.
Fresh coffee brews in the machine. Which I take as a good sign. He must have left recently. Maybe he went to get muffins, or some other romantic gesture, like in the movies. Because he wouldn’t just leave. Not after last night.
It meant something.
It had to.
Then where the hell is he? And why didn’t he wake me up? Or leave me a note?
I sit down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and wait.
He’ll be back, my heart assures me. My brain isn’t as convinced. He’s gone.
My brain and heart battle against hope and despair, but as the hours go by, and morning turns to afternoon, I realize he’s not coming back.
God, I’m such an idiot, believing his words. Thinking he’d actually changed. All he wanted was sex. Or maybe revenge.
I throw my coffee cup against the wall and it shatters, sending
fragments across the linoleum floor. Cursing, I open the cupboard and grab the dust pan and broom, then start to sweep up the tiny pieces.
My breath catches in my throat when I catch a glimpse of white under the counter, the familiar words etched in black ink.
Find your happiness.
I pick it up and blink back tears. The remaining section of Maeve’s list, discarded just like he’d done to me. He must have tossed it there before leaving.
I crumple it in my fist, then fling it across the room with a silent scream.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
I exhale slowly and rub my hands over my face, numbness settling in my chest. When I toss the broken mug in the trash can, I hear Kiersten’s door open.
Shit, I can’t deal with her right now.
“I feel like shit,” she moans, trudging her way across the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “What time is it?”
“Noon.” I keep my back to her and take a few steadying breaths. I don’t want her to know what happened with me and Cillian. I’m already humiliated enough.
“Ugh. I barely remember getting home.”
“Cillian brought you.” His name tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Right.” She sits at the table with her coffee, and moans when she takes the first sip. “He kept asking questions about you on the ride over.” She winces. “Oh, God. I’m pretty sure I threw up in his limo.”
I hope she did.
Even hung over, Kiersten doesn’t stop talking. “When you said you knew the band, I didn’t realize you knew them. He’s the guy, isn’t he? The big Irish love affair that had you all mopey for months.”
“I wasn’t mopey,” I say defensively. “And it was nothing…just…sex.”
“Was it nothing again last night?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
Her brows shoot up. “That bad, huh?”
I shake my head. I can’t talk about this. Not now. Not with her. What I need are answers. I deserve fucking answers.
Back in my bedroom, I grab my phone from my dresser and scroll through my contacts until I find his name. I press call, and wait for him to answer. I grunt when it goes to voicemail. But then, I should have known he wouldn’t have the courage to pick up.
Screw you, Cillian Gallagher.
After the beep, I let him or his voicemail know exactly what I think of him.
Chapter 34
Cillian
“Thanks for coming with me.” I say to Emer, while leaning my forearms on the glass counter of Tiffany’s.
Holding a three-carat princess cut engagement ring, she beams at me. “Are ye kidding? I think I’m as excited as Delaney is going to be.”
“I hope not,” I chuckle.
“I love this one. It’s delicate and bold. Just like her.” She hands it to me.
Rolling the ring in my fingers, I smile. “I think ye’re right. I’ll take it.”
“Do you want me to size it for you?” the man on the other side of the counter asks.
“How long will that take?”
“A couple of days.”
“No.” I can’t wait that long. “I’ll take it as is. She can have it resized later.”
The man nods, and takes the ring and my credit card.
“I’m so happy for ye,” Emer says, wrapping her arms around my chest and hugging me hard.
“I just hope she says yes.”
“Of course, she will. She’s in love with ye.”
“I know.” I do. “But there’s still a lot we have to discuss. I don’t know if she’s willing to give up her life here.”
“And if she’s not?”
I shrug. “Then I guess I’ll be moving to Chicago.”
Emer grins up at me. “Now I know ye really love her.”
“I do.” And I want her to know it. I want to remove any doubt from her mind that I’ll let her go again.
My phone rings, but I don’t get to it on time.
There’s a message.
I press the voicemail button, and smile when I hear Delaney’s voice. “I’m not surprised you didn’t pick up. But this is easier.”
My stomach drops when I hear the anger in her words.
“Cillan?” Emer asks, frowning.
I shake my head and put my hand up, then walk to the other side of the store.
“…this is the last time you’ll hear from me. Maybe I shouldn’t even have called. But I wanted to make sure that you never try and contact me again.”
Dread washes through me. I have no idea what’s happened in her mind since last night, but from the tremor in her breath, the tightness of her voice, I know she’s fighting back tears.
There’s a long stretch of silence. Then she sighs, and says with a finality that’s unmistakable. “Goodbye, Cillian.”
“Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Emer is beside me, worry wrinkling her forehead.
My call goes to voicemail when I try to call Delaney back. “Shit.”
I try again.
“I can’t answer your call right now, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Goddamn it, Delaney, answer yer phone. I don’t know what the hell that message was about, but I need to see ye. Now.”
I hang up.
Emer is frowning at me. “What’d ye do now?”
Dragging my hand through my hair, I exhale an agitated breath. “I have no fucking clue, but I’m going to find out.”
Chapter 35
Delaney
“You okay?” Kiersten asks when I come out of my room. She’s lying on the couch, a wet washcloth on her forehead, face pale, dark circles under her eyes. She’s looks how I feel – terrible.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
The need to move, to walk, to run is overwhelming.
Pulling my hoodie over my head, I leave the apartment and walk. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I can’t be in my apartment. My room still smells like him. Shit, I still smell like him. Like he’s imprinted on my very soul.
Get a grip, Delaney. That’s the same bullshit thinking that got me in trouble in the first place.
I’m supposed to start work in an hour, but I can’t go in. There’s no way I’ll be able to force a smile on my face and serve cappuccinos today. I don’t even like the damn job. It was just something I picked up to pay the bills. Let them fire me. It’s not like my life isn’t a complete shit show anyway.
I don’t know what direction I’m walking until I’m standing in front of the boarded-up pizzeria where Maeve and I used to come every Tuesday night when she was sick.
When had it closed down?
A different kind of sadness fills me.
Maeve. I can almost see her sitting at the small little iron table, head tilted back in a full belly laugh. God, she loved to laugh. And it was infectious.
“You’re really going to marry Matt?” She’d asked, shaking her head.
“He’s a nice guy. I don’t know why you don’t like him.”
“Sure, he’s nice. But he’s…stuffy and…safe.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being safe.” I’d laughed then, not seeing then what she did. It wasn’t that Matt was safe. He was stifling, controlling.
Sure, I was content with him. But she’d been right, I never would have been happy.
Not that I’m happy now.
But I had been.
I had a taste of happiness.
A taste of passion.
Of love. Even if it was only one-sided.
I don’t know what’s worse, never having it and not knowing what you’re missing, or tasting a moment of real happiness, and knowing you’ll never feel it again.
I keep moving, forcing the memories out of my head. Numbing my heart, replacing hope with anger. I know now why Cillian hardened himself. It’s easier not to feel anything than the pain of betrayal.
The sky
is a deep shade of purple with traces of orange when I finally stop and sit down on a bench in front of the Navy Pier.
My feet are aching, and I’m sure I have blisters on top of my blisters, but I welcome the pain. Anything to distract me from the empty pit in the center of my chest.
I turn my phone back on to check the time. As soon as I do, it starts ringing in my hand. I ignore the call, but almost immediately it starts ringing again.
I don’t recognize the number, but I know it’s not Cillian’s.
With a heavy sigh, I answer. “Hello?”
“Thank God, Delaney,” the woman says breathlessly.
I frown, recognizing the voice. “Emer?”
“Where are ye?” She sounds frantic.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Just tell me where ye are.”
“In front of Navy Pier. Why?”
“Navy Pier,” she repeats. The connection gets muffled, and I can barely make out what she’s saying.
“Emer?”
“Don’t leave. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Wait. What’s going–”
“Just promise me ye won’t go anywhere.”
“I promise, but–”
The call ends, and I’m left staring at my damn phone, not knowing what just happened. I think about leaving. I’m not sure what Cillian told her, or why she wants to see me, but I know it won’t lead to anything good.
Chapter 36
Cillian
“Go. I’ll tell Aiden and Shane ye found her.” Emer nods towards the limo that’s waiting for me outside the Waldorf.
The past five hours, I’ve been all over the damn city looking for Delaney. After going back to her apartment and interrogating her roommate, I went to her work, but she never showed up for her afternoon shift.
Emer hands me the small jewelry box. “I’m trusting ye can do this one thing without screwing it up.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
She chuckles. “Go make it right.”
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