I grab Sasha before heading to the pool’s changing room. Cillian trails behind me the whole way but doesn’t follow me in. I want to grab him and pull him in there with me and demand to know what’s up with him and Maria, which is so freaking stupid.
I’m not his girlfriend. Really I’m not his anything. But I’m so damn jealous. Which is crazy considering that I’m about to try on wedding dresses so I can marry another man. Still I can’t help the jealousy. How is Cillian not jealous? Does it not bother him that I’ll soon belong to someone else? That there’s a possibility of me having another man's child?
The idea of him marrying another woman and making a baby with her would kill me. But the truth of the matter is, for all I know, Cillian could have a child. He never shares anything about his personal life. There isn't a ring on his finger, but not all men wear them. Especially in his line of work. The thought of his heart belonging to another only sours my mood more.
I dress quickly, hurrying to get this over with and get back to my room. All I want is to be away from everyone in this house.
I give Sasha one last pet and kiss on her head before I head out. When I open the door I’m immediately pushed back in by Cillian.
“What are you—” I’m cut off when his mouth comes down on mine. The kiss is hard. He tries to push his tongue into my mouth, but I don’t let him.
I do, however, open my mouth but only to take a bite of him. My teeth come down on his bottom lip. It’s not too vicious, but I make my point. He jerks back, his eyes almost looking wild.
“You won’t kiss me back?”
I lick my lips, enjoying the taste of him. I might be mad at him, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I’m still in love with him. But he can’t keep pulling away from me and then turn around and expect me to be open to him.
“No.” It hurts to get that one word past my lips, but I have to do it.
His nostrils flare. He slowly releases me and steps back.
Staring at him, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been doing this all wrong. Cillian doesn’t like to be ignored.
That makes two of us.
7
Cillian
She’s driving me crazy. I think that’s her intent. Skimpy clothes, precious attitude, and giving me just enough to make me starved for her. Cara will be the death of me.
I lean against the wall outside the downstairs guest suite and listen to the commotion inside. Maria is squawking as usual, and even Calida showed up to watch Cara try on wedding gowns.
Just the thought of her being someone else’s bride makes my guts churn. It shouldn’t. I keep telling myself that—what happens to Cara is nothing to do with me. I’m here for my family, not for her. But each time I tell myself that litany, I know it’s lies. She snared me from the moment I first saw her. I’d be a fool to claim otherwise. A beauty with fire and heart, she’s a walking dream.
“No, you look like a slut in that!” Calida slurs loudly from the room within.
“Takes one to know one,” I grumble under my breath.
“Mother, she needs to look attractive. The Sutcliffes expect perfection.”
“She looks like a low dollar slut.” Calida doesn’t give in.
“I’ll change.” Cara sighs, and I can hear her passing through to the attached bedroom where the seamstress waits.
“No?” the woman asks her.
“No, not this one.” Cara’s voice is low, almost detached.
I hate the sound of her giving up, but I can’t blame her. To her, her wedding to that Sutcliffe moron seems inevitable. It’s never going to happen, but I can’t tell her that. So now I’m fucking stuck between my family and comforting her with the good news. Good news, at least, on the marriage front. She might not be too pleased about the O’Donnells taking over, especially when my grandfather is just as heavy-handed as Kaden.
The seamstress opens the door and hurries out, a bunch of fabric draped over her shoulder. She doesn’t close the door all the way, giving me a view of Cara sitting on the bed, her eyes downcast. She’s wearing nothing but a veil. A tear slides down her cheek and lands on her full breast.
Calida is in the next room talking about how she intends to vacation at the Sutcliffe estate every summer, going on and on about how she’ll be the lady of the manor, not Cara.
I can see Cara growing smaller with each word, her spirit curling up inside her and trying to protect itself. It tears me apart. It’s been torture watching her the past two days, shadowing her steps and doing my best to stick to my mission. I can’t let my family down. But letting her down isn’t an option anymore, either.
Another tear slips down her smooth cheek.
I can’t let her feel like this, not when I can do something to stop it.
Though I know it’s a reckless mistake, I enter her room and close the door silently behind me.
Cara looks up, and I swear when I see her eyes light up, I’m on fire. Desperate for her. Even more so than I was an hour ago by the pool. She spurned me then. I let her. But now? Now I’m not giving up.
“What are you doing in here?” she hisses and glances at the attached sitting room where Calida and Maria are squabbling.
“Helping you.” I waste no time as I drop to my knees in front of her.
She gasps, and I reach up and cover her mouth with my palm as I push her back onto the bed. Using my shoulders, I push between her thighs and get another full view of her bare pussy. It’s almost too much to take, the beauty she hides away where only I can see it.
I release my hold on her mouth and splay my fingers against the insides of her thighs. Then, with a long lick, I finally taste her.
She makes a low sound in her throat.
I look up, my lips grazing her. “You’ll have to be quiet, angel,” I warn and glance at the adjoining room.
“Cillian, you can’t—” Her eyes are wide as I grip her wrist and place her own palm against her mouth.
I don’t know when the seamstress will return, but I don’t need much time. Not when I’m pleasuring my sweet angel. I flick my tongue against her clit. Her body arches beautifully, and I don’t fuck around. I focus on that little nub, stroking and licking until Cara starts fucking my face, her hips moving against me as I give her all my attention.
Her body tenses, and her thighs start to shake. When I plunge one finger into her tight, wet cunt, she moans against her hand and comes in a wave. I feel each spasm of her release squeezing my finger as I lick her clit.
When she pulls her palm from her mouth and gasps in a lungful of air, I kiss her pretty pussy then stand and lick my lips. I’m pitching a fucking tent in my slacks as I look down at her wetness, the way her nipples are so hard and bite-able, the way her cheeks are flushed and her eyes glassy.
“Cillian,” she breathes.
I back away from her. “Relax, angel. Pick any dress you want. It won’t matter.”
“It won’t?” She sits up, her eyes clearing. “Why not?”
I can’t tell her even though I want to so badly. The look she gives me, the green depths of her eyes pleading with me, I’m about to break when the door opens.
The seamstress stumbles in, more fabric draped over her than before.