CHAPTER 11

Renner

Work tonight sucks. I'm still sporting a headache from that damn Irish whiskey, no matter how many Nurofen—the Irish version of Tylenol—I took today. I make a mental note never to drink that stuff again, and I only hope Sean is suffering as bad as we are, since he's the one that kept buying the damn shots for us.

The end of last evening is still a blur to me. Some things I can remember clear as Waterford crystal. Like the way Cillian practically ate me up with his eyes when we first walked in. I had not wanted to wear that outfit but Teagan insisted. It was one of hers and she finally talked me into it after yammering at me relentlessly for an hour. I felt self-conscious as hell, particularly because a good breeze could lift my top away and expose my breasts.

I also remember, but not as clearly, as Cillian stood behind me while we listened to the music. His hands had glided up my sides, his fingertips just sneaking past the flimsy material of my top to stroke the barest swell of the side of my breast. I thought my body would go up in flames when he did that, but it was nothing compared to when he pulled my hips back into his and I could feel how hard he was. In my effort to be more spontaneous, I'm surprised I didn't combust right on site over that touch. It was hot as hell, because I knew that I made him hard like that.

He asked me to go home with him.

No... correction. He told me to go home with him.

Despite the way my body was reacting to him, I still had enough wits about me to know that would be a bad idea. I was trying to tell him that when Cady and Teagan suddenly appeared in front of me and hauled me away.

I was relieved and empty at the same time.

The rest of the night got blurrier, thanks to Sean's heavy hand with the shots. I vaguely remember the men loading us girls up in a cab, while they went home in another. I woke up on Teagan's couch this morning with a raging headache and nausea gurgling in my stomach.

Bussing off a table, I glance around. I've been doing that a lot tonight, wondering if Cillian will come in for dinner. I can't decide if I want him to walk through that door, or not.

When Cillian demanded I go home with him last night, my body wanted to say yes but my brain was saying no. It terrifies me to think, though, had Cady and Teagan not rescued me, he would have been able to convince me of surrender. His words, his touch...they are hard to fight against. He's proven it to me once before.

"Table for one, cailín álainn."

My body goes still at those words murmured just behind me. Turning slowly, Cillian is standing so close that I can smell his body wash. It smells like a forest after a spring rain. Taking a step back, I look up into his eyes. He's looking at me with a mixture of mischief and hunger, and I don't know if his intent is to joke around or seduce me.

Probably both.

"There's an empty table over there," I indicate with a nod of my head. "I'll be with you in a minute."

Turning away from him, I head straight to the water closet. I resist the urge to check my hair in the mirror, because I could care less how I look to Cillian.

Sort of.

No, I mainly came in here to take a deep breath, and figure out how I should deal with him tonight. He's going to whisper words to me that will make my bones sizzle. He'll figure a way to touch my skin that will make me want to strip naked for him. Cillian is too powerful... too carnal... and if I don't buck up against his brand of magic, I'm going to be lost.

I take ten more deep breaths, just for good measure. Then I glance in the mirror and yes, my hair looks fine.

Leaving the bathroom, I head to the bar and grab him a Guinness. It's what he always drinks, although never more than two when he's writing. I take it to his table and set it down before him. Those dark eyes pin me and I can't even get words out of my mouth to ask him what he wants to eat.

"Did you have fun last night, Renner?"

I swallow, just to coat my throat with wetness, hoping it will work. "Sure. It was a great time. How about you?"

He nods, all the while his eyes are boring into mine. "Especially touching you. Your skin feels like the softest of satin. Tell me... what would your answer have been last night?"

My stomach drops that he would hit me so fast with something like this. I thought I had mentally prepared myself in the bathroom to handle anything he threw at me, but I'm afraid the only thing I think I can manage is incoherent babbling. He scrambles my brain that much.

And while I might enjoy the fact that I've let loose on one occasion, I just don't know if I can get involved with someone like Cillian. I'm afraid I'll stop being me. That he'll consume me until nothing is left.

I take a deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth. It doesn't help the frantic beating of my heart. With as firm a voice as I can manage, I say, "My answer would have been no."

One eyebrow cocks at me in skepticism. "No? Truly?"

"Truly. Now what would you like to eat?"

"Now that's a loaded question," he says, attempting to lighten the mood. I have to fight to keep the corners of my mouth from turning upward in response. When I just continue to stare at him, he understands I'm not taking the bait.

Sighing he says, "Just bring me whatever the special is tonight."

I turn to leave and make it two steps when I hear his voice. "What are you really afraid of, Ren?"

I shouldn't respond. I shouldn't turn back to look at him. I should march right into the kitchen and turn his order in.

Instead, I turn around and walk up to him. "I'm afraid of getting lost."

His hands reach out and take mine. He squeezes them gently and I never thought I'd think of the word comfort in relation to Cillian, but that's exactly what I feel.

"I won't let you get lost." His eyes are serious, not a lick of mischief in them now. My heart starts a new rhythmic beat and I have to resist the urge to step further into him.

There is no denying I want him. Physically, that is. Although he would never fit into my stereotypical, ideal relationship partner, there is something about him that is appealing to my need for security and order. I find that strange, given Cillian's middle name is probably chaos.

Before I can say anything, Keefe yells at me from behind the bar that I have an order up. I stare one moment longer at him, and then he releases my hands. With a sigh, I head back to work.

***

Cillian has finished his dinner, and true to form, he lingers over another Guinness while writing furiously on his notepad. I finally got a glimpse of it when I brought him this last beer, and he's writing music. It amazes me he can even concentrate to do that sitting in a busy pub, but he clearly knows how to focus.

As usual, when he's working, he pays me little attention and I'm okay with that for now. Taking stock of the few tables I have left, I see I don't have anything immediate to do so I walk up to the bar to chitchat with Keefe for a few minutes. I've not been able to see him and Aunt Shannon in a few days and I miss his cheery personality.

I'm almost to the bar when movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn and my breath freezes solid in my lungs. Tall, black hair, sparkling blue eyes... I had almost forgotten how handsome Cormac was.

"Hello, Renner."

I glance around the pub. Keefe is busy talking to customers behind the bar and I see that Cillian still has his nose buried in his music. Although why I should look to them is beyond me. Am I seeking help? Or do I want to avoid having them see Cormac?

"What are you doing here?"

"You haven't responded to me in a few days. I was worried. And I just wanted to see you." He reaches a hand out as if he's going to touch my face and I jerk back reflexively. He stares at me with hurt in his eyes and lowers his hand.

"Now isn't a good time."

"I'll wait for you to get off, if that's okay. Then we can talk after."

God no, that's not okay. First, I wouldn't be able to continue working, knowing that Cormac was here and we would have to confront our issues. I would be a nervous wreck. More importantly, Cillian is here and if he stays on course, he'll expect to walk me home tonight. And I don't feel like explaining Cillian to Cormac or vice versa.

Glancing at my watch, I say, "I can give you ten minutes, but then I have to get back to work."

He nods his head and I motion with my hand for him to precede me to the door. He walks out of the pub and I follow, heading a few feet away from the front door. I'm not sure standing here on a busy sidewalk in Temple Bar is the best place to have this conversation, but it's certainly better than inside the pub.

Cormac turns to face me, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. He glances down at the ground for a second, then back up to me. "Have you given any further thoughts about giving us another chance?"

Oh, boy. Here goes.

"Actually I have. And I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to be involved with you. We had our chance and it didn't work."

Cormac steps into me a bit closer and I hold my ground, even though every instinct tells me to back up. His face is sad but there's an urgency in his eyes. "But that's just it... we can have another chance. I swear I will make up to you all of the pain I caused if you'd just let me back in your heart."

There was a time, not but just a few days ago, where I would have given serious consideration to his plea. I'm not sure what has happened in that short amount of time, but now that I have said the words out loud, I know I'm making the right decision.

"I'm sorry, Cormac. But there is not any more room in my heart for you. It's done. We both need to move on."

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he places them on my shoulders and grips me lightly. "No. I can't move on. Not without you. Please, Renner."

His words are whiny...pathetic, and I'm surprised he doesn't stomp his foot like a child. It’s not attractive at all. Cillian would never act this way. He would demand I give him another chance and then probably throw me over his shoulder to carry me off. Why I find that sort of alpha behavior hot is beyond me?

I bring my arms up in between him with the intent to shrug him off, but his grip becomes firmer. "Cormac...let me go. My answer is no and it won't change. I have to get back to work."

"I refuse to believe that," he says with desperation. "You need to remember what we had."

Before I can even process what he is doing, Cormac leans in to kiss me, pulling me into his body to meet him the rest of the way. My hands come up to his chest and I try to push him back. All the while his tongue is trying to gain entrance into my mouth.

I'm repelled by his attempt to kiss me but my efforts to push him back are like me trying to push The Hibernian down the block.

I do manage to wrench my head to the side and break contact between our lips. "Cormac... stop it."

His hands move to my face and he holds me in place, his eyes beseeching me. "It can be good again, I swear it."

He leans in to try to kiss me again, and I am just considering a knee to his nuts, when I hear from behind me, "I'm going to give you to the count of three to let her go, or I'm going to make you do it. And you can ask our girl, Renner, here but I don't give choices that often so consider yourself lucky."

I don't have to turn around to know the fury behind those words belongs to Cillian. Cormac appraises him over my shoulder, but he doesn't make a move to release me. I try to shove him backward again, but he doesn't move.

"One..."

"Cormac, let me go. He's not kidding."

Cormac doesn't move and his eyes go hard. He glances to me then back to Cillian. I can feel his body tense up.

"Two..."

"Let. Me. Go. He will spill your blood on this sidewalk if you won't listen."

"Three."

I hear a "snicking" sound from behind me and I see Cormac's eyes go wide. His hands immediately fall away from me and he takes a step back. I whirl around to see Cillian there with murder in his eyes and a switchblade in his hand.

"Oh, for God's sake, Cillian. Put that away before you get arrested."

He never takes his eyes off Cormac, but he closes the knife and tucks it back into his pocket, even as he's walking forward. When he reaches me, I grab onto his wrist, halting his progress, because there is no doubt in my mind he's not finished with Cormac. Laying my other hand on his chest, he finally looks down at me.

"Please don't. Just let it go, Cillian."

His jaw muscle is popping as he looks back to Cormac. "If you come near her again, I won't stop. No matter how much she begs me to."

I glance back at Cormac. His face is pale and I see at some point, he's even stepped a few paces further back. His gaze leaves Cillian and returns to me. "Are you with this guy? Are you fucking him?"

Cillian tenses under my hand so I squeeze his wrist reassuringly. "It's none of your business who I'm with, Cormac."

His face now mottling red with anger, Cormac blusters, "You can't possibly want to be with some... some... street thug that threatens people with knives."

"He's a musician," I say quietly.

"What-the-fuck-ever! That's not who you are, Renner. You like stability and reliability. There's no way you want him."

Cormac's last words are said with disdain and it almost makes me laugh out loud. Particularly the part where he is preaching to me about stability and reliability. I suddenly realize that although Cillian may turn my world upside down, tie my stomach in knots, and scramble my brains, I very much want to be with him.

Turning my back on Cormac, I look up at Cillian. He returns my stare, his eyes warm and curious. "But I do. I think I want him very much."

I vaguely hear Cormac blustering behind me. Cillian never takes his eyes from mine, but his words are hard when he says to Cormac, "Take a walk and don't bother coming around her again. You won't like what happens if you do."

I have no clue what Cormac does, nor do I care. I’m positive he will walk away like the coward I know him to be. He doesn’t have the sticking power to pursue me, not with Cillian’s threats hanging in the air.

The only thing that holds my attention now is the look in Cillian's eyes as they bore into mine.

"You want me, do you?"

"Yes."

Cillian moves so fast he startles me. Grabbing my hand, he drags me back into The Hibernian. Moving past the main bar, Uncle Keefe fortunately does not see this spectacle. As we walk swiftly by Maureen, I tell her in passing, "Can you watch my tables for a few minutes?"

Cillian is pulling me so quickly that I don't hear her response but assume she has my back. God knows I've covered her tables on more than one occasion when she's wanted an extended smoke break.

He pulls me down a dark hall and finally through a door.

The storeroom.

Pushing me gently through, he flicks on the light, closes the door softly behind me, and turns the lock. The soft click sounds ominous and when I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the door with a satisfied look on his face.

"What are we doing in here?"

"I need to taste you just a bit and I don't fancy everyone watching."

My insides tighten and I can't help the dampness that forms between my legs over those few words.

Pushing off the door, he practically stalks to me, reaching out to push his fingers through my hair.

"Cillian... we shouldn't."

"Shhh..." is all he says before he starts kissing me. It's wild and wet, just as hot as that night he kissed me in my apartment. Except now, there's not an underlying tone of dominance. Rather, this is pure need I'm feeling from him and my arms automatically go around him.

His tongue is warm, the ball of his piercing erotically touching the inside of my mouth. When I pull my mouth slightly back so I can suck at his lip rings, he issues a groan as his hand sneaks under my shirt.

His fingers leave a blazing trail of fire as they skim up my stomach, reaching my breast. He cups me gently at first, and then moves his thumb over my nipple. My body shudders hard and I gasp into his mouth.

Emboldened by my response, Cillian drops his hand to the button of my jeans. "Last time I did this, you told me to stop. Are you going to do that now, sweet girl?" He's teasing me, daring me to say no.

I think briefly about the fact we’re locked in the storeroom and I have customers waiting for me. But Maureen has me covered, and chances of us being disturbed are small.

"Don't stop," I tell him, insanely needful of something more.

He deftly pops the button on my jeans, and whether he's feeling the pressure of our limited time in here or what, he wastes no time in slipping his hand down the front. His fingers skim under the waistband of my panties and he runs his middle finger over me.

"Oh, God," he murmurs as he sinks one finger into me. "You're so fucking wet."

My head falls back as I feel his finger working inside of me, my hips responding to the movement of his hand.

He gives me a swift, hard kiss and looks me in the eyes, his face just inches from mine. "This is going to be fast," he warns. "I'm going to get you off with my hand, because I'm dying to see you come. Right here. Right now. Just for me. Then I'm going home with you tonight, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're going to be sore tomorrow. And every time you take a step tomorrow, every time you feel that little sting of pain, you're going to remember that it was me between your legs all night. Are we clear?"

His words are like heroin, or at least what I imagine heroin would be like... dark and addictive. I nod, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth so I don't scream over the sensations he's creating inside of me.

"That’s my girl. Now wrap your arms around my neck and hang on."