Cian’s head snapped up, his green eyes blazing like bright gemstones. One slow roll of his body caressed her from thighs to breasts, igniting her own insatiable hunger.
“Everything, Miranda.” His voice was harsh, edged with a touch of warning.
God help her she shouldn’t be excited over what sounded like a threat. But nothing could have stopped the frantic kick of her heart or the desire that cut a live current through her bloodstream. Everything was precisely what she wanted to give.
She exhaled tremulously. The sound hung between them, a suspended echo that confessed her surrender.
Cian’s mouth hovered over hers, his lips a breath away, close enough she could feel their heat. It enticed her beyond reason. His kiss…she needed his mouth on her. She tipped her head back, her lips parting, a plea on the tip of her tongue.
“If those papers stay with you, then I’ll have to convince you to stay.”
****
Cian couldn’t explain why he had Miranda trapped against the wall any more than he could explain how he had come to the conclusion he had to tell her why he needed the manuscript. Both ideas were equally ludicrous. Presently, however, he didn’t give a damn. Miranda had stepped into his house, his domain, and the darkness had surged beyond his control. The only way he knew to contain it was to use its power against the demonic callings. Kill her, no. Screw her senseless—yes.
No. Not screw, his rational side argued. That was for women he didn’t intend to keep around. Miranda deserved more. Further, he wanted more from her than just those damn papers. He’d meant it when he said everything. That confession hadn’t been a product of his sire’s vile blood. And the hungry way her tongue tangled with his told him she was more than willing to yield anything he wanted.
Power for which his demonic nature thirsted.
Trust his heart couldn’t tolerate breaking.
He kissed her until his lungs ached. Until his body felt afire, and the need to possess Miranda’s body and soul eradicated all thought of anything but the heavenly press of her soft curves. Tearing his mouth from hers, he closed his eyes, searching for a modicum of control. Control he needed before Belen, Rhiannon, and Dàire left the kitchen and witnessed him taking Miranda against the wall.
Miranda made it that much more difficult when she curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him closer, her mouth seeking his once more. “You’re a sickness, Cian. My sickness.” She planted her lips on his, taking greedily.
Cian groaned low and deep. Hers. Since he had met her, belonging to Miranda was all he craved. He chose not to acknowledge the fact she equivocated him to a disease, and wound his arms around her waist, lifting her body into his, molding her as close as humanly possible. He broke the kiss, touched his lips to hers once more, before reluctantly lowering her to her feet and moving a half step away. “If you don’t stop long enough to let me think, I’m going to have you naked against this wall.”
Her laugh reached in deep to wind around his heart and give it a fierce pull. The smile she gave him as she linked her hand in his, tempered the beast within. The arousal that brightened her soulful brown eyes, however, made it rage.
“I have a few hours,” she whispered.
Cian couldn’t resist a smirk. “I need more than a few.”
As she chuckled again, he tugged on her hand, leading her toward the privacy of his bedroom. Deep down, he knew there would be a price to pay for the confessions he had given. Miranda would want an explanation about why he felt the need to protect her. But as he pushed his bedroom door shut behind them and dragged her close to sample the sweet flavor of her mouth again, he found he didn’t care. Nothing mattered except Miranda. Not his nearby family. Just making love to her. Balming the ache that ran so deep it terrified him.
Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, silken palms slid over his abdomen. His belly quivered beneath her inquisitive caress, and his cock pulsed in anticipation. Manicured nails pinched into the muscles of his chest, provoking another needy groan. He shook his head and eased her away, determined to ignore the hard, heavy beat of his heart. Last night he had given little consideration to Miranda. Shown her so very little about the depth of feeling that she alone caused.
This morning, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Keeping his eyes on hers, he popped the button at waistband of her jeans and eased the zipper down. His fingertips roamed over the smooth plane of her abdomen, dipped beneath the narrow elastic band of her panties. Sliding lower, he parted her feminine curls to stroke the sensitive nub between her legs, and moisture met his touch.
She moved against his hand, gyrating her hips in a slow counter to the lazy swirl of his fingertip. The shudder that racked her body compounded the fierce way her hands bit into his muscles as she struggled to remain upright. Cian fought for the ability to breathe. The need to sink inside her and lose himself in Miranda was blinding. He gritted his teeth against the demands of his body. Slow. Nice and easy.
Cian repeated the mantra in his head, gaining restraint with the low chant. With one hand on her waist to hold her steady, he eased a thick finger inside her. Her eyes glazed over with rapture. Long lashes fluttered to her cheeks.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
The struggle was evident as she forced those thick lashes to lift. Her gaze locked with his, unfocused at first, then sharpening to pinpoints of warm light. There was something unexplainably erotic about watching pleasure pass over her face. The way her eyes flickered between spellbound by rapture and deliberate concentration as she teetered on the edge of release. Around his thrusting finger, her inner walls clenched. Tight. Blisteringly warm.
She was close. Closer than he wanted her to be.
To bring her down from that high precipice, Cian withdrew his hand. He knelt before her, eased her clothing down her legs. As he lifted each foot, she balanced against him with a hand on his shoulders. Trust. Surrender…
Goddess above, he was coming apart at the seams. Feeling surged through him, a conflict between life and death, the claiming and the taking. His hands shook. His entire body trembled.
As he rose, her sweet musk tempted him, and he paused to place a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin above her downy curls. Miranda gasped. Her fingers bit into his shoulders like talons. “Cian,” she exhaled.
He knew what she craved. He longed for it as well. Too much time had passed between them, and the memory of her taste no longer satisfied. Standing fully, he nudged her backward, pulling her sweater over her head as she moved. When the back of her knees touched the mattress, Miranda sank into the bed. Her eyes fastened on him, appreciation glowing as he peeled off his clothing. Each sliver of skin he bared, her gaze caressed, making him so painfully aware of his arousal it became a physical ache. His cock throbbed. His heart battered into his ribs.
Still, he refused to yield to desire. He needed her to feel the same wild abandon he knew would consume him the moment he sank inside her silken heat.
Bracing one knee between her thighs, he nudged her legs apart and knelt between them. Rosy nipples pebbled, begging for attention. More than happy to satisfy those tight little peaks, Cian bent over Miranda’s body and sucked one into his mouth. Her fingers delved into his hair, her hold on the verge of painful.
As he suckled, she undulated beneath him. The press of her hips enticed, the way they fell away teased. He held on...barely. Then, as he clamped his teeth around her nipple and gave it a tiny twist, Miranda bucked, and Cian’s faltering control threatened to snap in half. He released her breast, drew in a sharp breath, and dusted kisses along her ribs.
Almost there. She was almost where he wanted her.
Chapter Eight
Cian’s masterful tongue speared through Miranda’s intimate center, and her back arched with so much force she nearly dislodged them both from the bed. He wrapped one corded arm around her waist, secured her in place, and lapped with slow devastation. She fisted her hands in the sheets, her teeth clamped into her l
ower lip to silence a sharp cry. The sound came out in a muffled moan.
Her lover let out a satisfied grunt that vibrated into her core. She writhed beneath him, on the verge of something she couldn’t fully understand. She was coming apart, coming together…
“Oh, God, Cian.” Miranda clawed at the mattress. “Don’t st—”
Stop. And yet…he already had.
She whimpered, the pleasure too intense, the precipice too high to reach. He had taken her there, then left her to dangle in the wind. Wanting. Yearning.
His long blond hair dusted over her shoulders as he bent over her, his chest compressing hers, the heat of his body soaking into her skin. Capturing her mouth in a wild kiss, he nudged her legs further apart. Before she could comprehend his shift in tactics, Cian eased his thick erection between her damp folds. One agonizingly slow thrust buried him deep inside her throbbing flesh.
Miranda keened, long and low as her body arced to accommodate him. He felt good. Damn good. His hardness a perfect counterpart to all her softness. She glided her hands over his back, savoring the wide plane of maintained muscle, the narrow width of his waist. When he angled his hips, retreating from her feminine depths, her body chased his. He refused to allow her to rush headlong into ecstasy, however, and kept his strokes slow, his thrusts deep but restrained.
Slowly, certainly, she began to comprehend the meaning of everything. In all the times they had made love, she couldn’t remember when he had been so thorough. So agonizingly focused on pushing her into utter abandon. He was pulling things from her that she hadn’t realized she could give. Emotion she didn’t know could run deeper.
Each thrust consumed her in pleasure. Each retreat was an exquisite torture. Body and soul, he possessed her. She clenched her hands into his tight buttocks, fighting the burn of sensation that threatened to render her senseless.
Oblivious to her subtle demands for harder, faster, Cain maintained a relentlessly languorous tempo. Aching for air, she twisted her head away from the splendor of his mouth and gasped in short, uneven breaths. His breathing matched hers, the same hard shallow fall punctuated by clipped catches. Miranda slid her gaze to his glittering eyes and lost herself in the tenderness that radiated there. Her heart swelled painfully. Emotion tore at her soul.
I love you.
She had never said the words to Cian and wouldn’t utter them now. But she prayed he could hear the shout in her head. As ridiculous, unhealthy, as it was, she loved him beyond all measure.
As if he sensed the inner turmoil raging within her, Cian brought one hand to her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. His body moved within her, sinking deeper, touching her more completely than ever before. “Sweet, Miranda,” he murmured thickly.
A tidal wave surged through her, searingly hot and full of destruction. Tears touched the corners of her eyes. He had broken her completely. Every bit of resistance she had ever considered shattered into irreparable bits. He could throw her away, and still she would crawl back into his arms, his bed, at the slightest invitation.
Yet, somehow, she knew Cian wouldn’t toss her aside again. Whatever he was doing to her, he was experiencing the same pull of emotion. The same throat-squeezing flood of feeling that poured out of her with each penetration.
He belonged to her completely.
As she belonged to him, no matter how screwed up their relationship might be.
Cian shifted his hands to her hips, lifting her into him as he guided her into a more demanding pace. She met his punishing thrusts with equal vigor. Commanded him to jump headlong off the high cliff they stood on and freefall to whatever end the fates chose.
She felt some measure of his control break. Witnessed the rupture in his expression. His green eyes darkened, piercing through her with startling intensity, and his hands tightened on her hips. He plunged in hard, sending her world careening at right angles. Pleasure ripped through Miranda’s veins like fire, all-consuming and scorching clear through to her soul. She clung to Cian, his name tearing from her throat as release claimed her.
Distantly she heard his low groan, felt the relaxation of his hands, the slowing of his body. When he tumbled against her, his breath harsh and heavy against her shoulder, a strange sense of utter completion stole over her. She had given herself to Cian unlike ever before. He had taken without hesitation. Claimed what she offered greedily.
But he had given of himself as well, and she had stared into his eyes while he poured every particle of himself into their lovemaking.
With a faint exhausted smile, she ran a hand through the damp waves that clung to the back of his neck. “Where did that come from?”
He lifted his head to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Us.”
Miranda sensed he didn’t want to discuss the forcefulness of their joining, or what deeper meanings it might hold. She decided answers could wait. Right now, she simply wanted to savor the intimacy of his embrace, the quiet moments of being held by Cian as he eased himself out of her, rolled to his side, and tucked her in the crook of his arm. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the heavy drum of his heart.
“Sleep, sweetheart.”
His fingers stroked her bare shoulder, lulling her into the languor of his quiet murmur. She resisted the pull, knowing the work at the shop wouldn’t diminish no matter how she willed the books to stock themselves, the accounts to reconcile on their own. But the possessive way he fitted his hand into the base of her spine and pressed her even closer, made considering work impossible. Despite herself, she gave in to an expansive yawn.
“Sleep with me?” she whispered.
“For a little bit.”
What the hell. A little bit was better than nothing at all. Closing her eyes, Miranda snuggled into Cian’s protective embrace.
****
The creak of floorboards dragged Miranda from the clutches of exhausted slumber. She opened her eyes, Cian’s alarm clock in direct line of sight. Quarter-after ten. Susan would give her hell when she wandered through the front door of her shop, not the upstairs entrance.
Her gaze flicked to the empty pillow next to her, then to where Cian sat at a table near the window. The shades were still drawn, and rain clouds had moved in, turning the room a dingy shade of grey. A librarian’s lamp glowed steadily, illuminating the Celt manuscript spread out before him. He wasn’t studying the writings as she had initially thought. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting, she observed he stared straight ahead, focused on the green paint on his wall. His mouth was drawn, his expression grim. The longer she watched, she became aware of the clenched fists he rested on the table, the tension that clung to his shoulders.
Cian expelled a sigh, then raked both hands through his hair in frustration. He shook his head, thumped the dark polished wood with an open palm.
He looked beyond exhausted. As if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Cian?” she called softly.
Her voice cut into his thoughts, and he startled. His gaze swung to her. The half-attempt he made to smile never made it past his mouth. Something was eating at him.
Miranda propped herself up on one elbow, setting her head in her hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She knew he was lying. For a man who found sleep as delicious as chocolate cheesecake, clearly he wasn’t okay. Her gaze narrowed. “What’s going on, Cian? You’re a thousand miles away.”
He shook his head again. “Just some family issues.” His blond hair clung to his bare shoulders, wet and wavy. He had showered, and something about that discovery churned her gut. She didn’t like the idea that he could so easily extract himself from the bed they shared. That he hadn’t invited her to join him.
“No.” She sat up straight and crossed her legs beneath the blankets. “That’s not all it is. When your brother got in trouble last fall, and your entire family was at odds, you didn’t bottle it up and hide it from me. What’s bothering you?”
Dropping his head, he held it in both hand
s. “Just let it be, Miranda. It’s complicated.”
Let it be—like hell. She couldn’t do the push-pull game any longer. He was tearing her to bits each time he dragged her close then thrust her aside. “Complicated.” She chewed on the word, rolled it over her tongue. “Like we’re complicated, right? Too complicated to explain to me how you can make love to me like you’re starved, and then pretend I don’t exist a little while later?”
She hadn’t meant for bitterness to creep into her voice, or for her questions to come out like accusations. But once she started, she couldn’t cork her frustration. Couldn’t pretend the pain of not knowing what he wanted from her didn’t exist.
His head snapped up, his eyes flashing with anguish. The brief glimmer, however, faded beneath the tight line of his lips. An edge of irritation crept into his voice. “Pretend you don’t exist? Hell, Miranda, you consume me. I can’t fucking keep my mind off you.”
Too stunned for immediate words, Miranda blinked. She consumed him? That didn’t sound at all like the determined bachelor she’d come to understand. It almost sounded like a man in love.
But if that were the case, why the distance? Surely, he knew how she felt about him. Nothing she did told a different story.
Warily, she asked, “And that’s…a problem?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice almost inaudible.
Because he didn’t want to be tied down? Her frown deepened. “I’m sorry, Cian, but I’m not following. Tell me exactly how that’s a problem.”
He looked at her again, and this time there was no mistaking the pain in his silent gaze. For several seconds he said nothing at all, merely studied her, as if he tried to look beneath her skin into her soul. Then, he looked away, his stare drawn to the wall once more.
She opened her mouth to push for answers.
“I’m in love with you.”
His strained whisper slapped her into silence. Her jaw fell slack, shock knocking her sideways. That was the last thing she had expected to ever hear from Cian McLaine. A few hours ago she realized he cared deeply for her, but until now, she’d become convinced he was incapable of the same all-consuming emotion that filled her heart.
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