Two days passed, and then three. By the time the fifth day slipped by without seeing or hearing from Cillian, Olivia had convinced herself that their whole night together was a fever dream brought on by his head injury and her exhaustion. It didn’t help her feel less hurt by his rejection—because, really, what else could she call him avoiding Jameson’s as well as her?—but it was better than nothing.
And what if he wasn’t avoiding her? Head wounds were tricky beasts, even under the best of circumstances. He’d seemed okay when she’d left the hotel that morning, but what if something happened in the meantime? She could have left him to die, and the only way she’d know about it was hearing a news report—which was why she’d been spending a truly unhealthy amount of time searching the local news outlets for anything about deaths with corresponding head injuries. It wasn’t a perfect way to go about things, and knowing that only made her stress out worse.
“Why the long face, pretty girl?”
She grimaced and passed a beer to the guy across the bar. “Gas.”
He jerked back, nearly knocking over the guy next to him. “Jesus. Sorry I asked.”
It was too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. That, at least, she found some pleasure in. The men who came through this place were nothing to her, and for whatever reason, her pissy attitude had made her tips nearly double this week. It would almost be enough to change her mood if she didn’t think about how worried she was about Cillian. It didn’t help that Benji kept sending her worried looks.
She grabbed a rag to wipe down a spill. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say a word.” He measured three different liquors into a shaker.
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” She wasn’t sure why she was pressing this, let alone with her boss, but the need to talk to someone about what had gone down was nearly overwhelming. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t a sharer. She’d been blown off before, and hadn’t lost a second of sleep over it. But then she met that troublemaker O’Malley, and now she was losing her damn mind.
Benji poured two martinis and passed them over to a pair of women chatting about their week at work. Then he turned to face her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
If she didn’t, she might just explode. I am so pathetic. “The other night when I was taking out the trash and closing up, I caught two assholes beating the crap out of Cillian O’Malley.”
His mouth tightened. “You need to stay out of those kinds of conflicts. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He held up a hand at an impatiently waiting customer without looking over. “You’re tough, Olivia, but this is a whole different ball game from what you’re used to.”
That was the problem. It wasn’t. She’d grown up around the casual violence and threats that came from underground crime, even if she’d been on the outskirts for the most part. It wasn’t seeing those two guys beating Cillian up that spooked her so bad.
It was that she’d walked away from that night with all her convictions about the man questioned.
“It was fine. I scared them off with your trusty shotgun.”
“This time.” He took the order from the impatient guy and grabbed two Buds from the fridge below the bar. After the guy paid, Benji turned back to her. “Next time you might not be so lucky. You know what they say about heat waves—they bring out the crazy in people. That goes double for anyone under the umbrella of O’Malley, Sheridan, or Halloran.”
How had this turned into him telling her to back off? She propped her hands on her hips. “I can take care of myself.”
“These aren’t common street thugs—not in this part of town, and not giving a beating to an O’Malley. Whoever it was won’t forget that you intervened, and some of the families around these parts can have a long memory. If you’re not careful, you might turn down a street one night and find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.”
The sad thing was that if that ever happened, it wouldn’t be a Boston family threatening her. It would be the Romanovs. She couldn’t say that to Benji without explaining her past, though, and she wasn’t willing to go there. Not tonight. Probably not ever. “I’ve got it covered. I promise. That wasn’t even what was bothering me in the first place.”
He frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I patched Cillian up and made sure he was okay and…” God, why was she even talking about this? She wasn’t some high school girl with a crush. She’d already seen how that kind of thing worked out—with her in over her head and knocked up by a man who would never love her like she desperately needed. Olivia took a deep breath. “Never mind. It’s not even worth talking about.”
“Boy got under your skin, didn’t he?”
Of course Benji saw through her. One didn’t end up as a bartender as long as he’d been and not know how to read people. “Pretty much. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s so…” Gorgeous and broken and kissable.
“That boy has seen some things.” Benji hand washed a few glasses, his gaze on the room. “A year ago, I’d tell you to steer clear of Cillian O’Malley—not that you’d need the advice. That boy was trouble personified, and he had no little liking for the ladies. That’s all changed now, but you should still steer clear of him because of what family he was born into. He might mean well, but meaning well doesn’t count for shit.”
That’s what she was afraid of.
“Benji, you’re an awful friend. The first rule of being a wingman is that you don’t warn the beautiful woman away from me.”
Olivia turned, half-sure she’d misheard, but there he was. Cillian sat on the other side of the bar, every hair in place and almost masking the still-healing gash on the side of his head, a casual grin on his face, looking like he hadn’t been beaten all to hell just a week before.
Like he hadn’t completely blown her off since.
She pasted a neutral expression on her face, but from his expression, it wasn’t all that neutral. “Can I get you something?”
“Your number.”
Good lord. “Thanks, but I like to reserve my time for people who actually make time for me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It took me longer to bounce back than I expected.” He even looked sorry, like he regretted the absence as much as she had.
Her anger wavered, but she held on to it with both hands. Being with him would always be like this—always me on a need-to-know basis and worrying my idiot self over him. “It’s fine.”
“I may not be a genius, but even I know when a woman says that it means anything but.” He looked at Benji. “How pissed is she right now?”
“She is standing right here.”
Benji raised his hands. “I’m staying out of it. Olivia, holler if you need something.” Then the coward fled.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re batting a thousand tonight, just like normal.” Except for that single night last week when he’d been downright human. More than that, he’d been a person she actually understood on some level and wanted to know more about. Now he had his pretty boy facade firmly back in place, and his charm grated on her like sandpaper beneath her skin. It was a slap in the face after how worried she’d been about him. “Apple juice?”
“Please.” He watched her grab a glass and pour the drink. “If it helps, I’m sorry I was gone so long. Things on the home front got away from me, and I had to take care of them before I could get back in here.”
He was probably telling the truth, but that didn’t really change anything. The fact of the matter was that she’d been right before—no matter how connected she’d felt to him during that night, he wasn’t all that different from Sergei—or every other man in her life up to this point. He would always put his family obligations before her.
She couldn’t go through that again. She refused to.
And to drag Hadley along with her? Unthinkable.
She passed the apple juice over. “Chalk my accepting your offer up to temporary insanity. I’m not going out with you.”
“Olivia—”
“That’ll be three-fifty.”
He sighed. “I thought we’d gotten past this.”
Hell, she’d thought so, too. But that night was a mistake, and a mistake she didn’t plan on repeating. No matter how delicious he looked tonight in that three-piece suit. Who the hell wore a three-piece suit to a pub?
You’re being petty and you damn well know it.
So what? I’m entitled to being petty.
She really needed to stop having crazy-woman conversations with herself. At this point, she was a few short steps from buying ten cats and holing up in her crappy apartment with Hadley while they waited for the end of the world.
“I’d like to talk.”
She shook herself out of her insanity spiral. “There’s really nothing to talk about.” She hesitated. “I am glad you’re doing better, though.”
“There you go again, making me think you might actually like me.” His smile was wan. “A drink, sweetheart. That’s all I’m asking for.”
It wasn’t, though. Because it wouldn’t stop with a drink. She’d get drawn in by the chemistry that was still sparking between them and, next thing she knew, she’d be crawling into his lap and getting into all sorts of trouble. Olivia knew herself well enough to know that. There was something about Cillian that was like catnip. Common sense didn’t have a hold there.
Which was exactly why she needed to keep him at a distance. “No, thank you.” A girl a few feet down the bar caught her eye and she moved away to fill that drink order, but she could feel Cillian watching her the entire time. It made her skin hot and tingly and, holy hell, it made her want.
Having sex with him had been a mistake. After over a year of celibacy, she should have known there was no way to keep her neat little boundaries in place, no matter how sure she was that she didn’t particularly like Cillian. That was why she was responding so strongly to him. It had to be.
She turned around and nearly ran into Benji. He stopped her from mowing him over—or, more likely, bouncing off his chest—with his hands on her shoulders. “Whoa, there. You look a little out of it. Why don’t you take a break?”
Taking a break would just give her more time to think, which was exactly what she didn’t need. She was about to tell him that, but the girl behind her squawked. “This isn’t a Cosmo! I ordered a Cosmo!”
Well, hell, there went all her arguments that she was fine. She never screwed up orders. Olivia glanced at the drink in the girl’s hand, but she couldn’t figure out what it was that she’d actually made. Shit. She forced a smile. “I think a break is a great idea.” Some air. I just need some air. “I’ll be back in ten.”
“Make it fifteen.” He softened the command with a smile. “You work hard, Olivia. Sit down and take a breather. I can hold down the fort.”
Of course he could. He’d been doing it for years. She managed something closer to a real smile. “You’re a good guy, Benji.”
“Don’t go saying that where people can hear you.” He gave her a nudge. “Go on.”
She went.
As soon as she stepped out into the cool night—a welcome relief from the heat wave that had hit during the last few days—she tilted her head back and took what felt like her first deep breath in a week. Cillian wasn’t dead on the street or something equally awful. He was okay—an ass, but okay. Great, now that you know that, you can move on with your life.
Easier said than done.
“Olivia.”
She turned; a secret part of herself that she’d never admit existed was simply thrilled at the sight of him. Cillian had cut quite the figure with his tattoos and expensive clothing every time they’d met, but knowing the meaning of those tattoos—and how extensive they were beneath his clothing—only made him more attractive. It really wasn’t fair. She drank in the sight of him like a woman in the desert who finally caught sight of an oasis, not sure when she’d be able to do it again.
You’re putting distance between you two, remember? Distance. “You shouldn’t be back here.”
“Neither should you.” He glanced at the spot where he’d been beaten. “I would have thought that would go without saying.”
“I can take care of myself.” Maybe if she said it enough times, the men around her would start believing it. She almost snorted. Unlikely.
“And you can take care of me, too.” He grinned, quick and easy, and she almost found herself grinning back.
It was an effort to keep any warmth from her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Well.” He moved closer, almost within touching distance. “If you won’t go out with me, I thought we could talk out here.” Something must have shown on her face, because he took another step. “I should have called. I’m sorry.”
She caught herself staring at his mouth and jerked her gaze up to his eyes. “Really, I should thank you for dropping the ball so effectively. I needed the reminder.” She took a tiny step back. “Now, please go. You’re ruining my break.”
“Do you really want me to leave?”
No. “Cillian…” Before she could think better of it, she grabbed his tie and hauled him the last step forward and against her. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Instantly, his arms came around her, and one hand cradled the back of her head while the other yanked her even closer. He took charge of the kiss before she could process the sheer bliss of having so much of him pressed against so much of her.
He teased open her mouth, any hesitance gone as his tongue stroked hers. It wasn’t the same kind of kiss that they’d shared in the hotel room. No, this was down and dirty and had her flashing back to the night in the alley, her legs around his waist and his cock buried deep inside her.
She arched against him, needing to be closer, needing to feel skin against skin. This is such a bad idea. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about anything except the next second and his mouth on hers. He backed her up two steps and pressed her against the brick wall. The cold provided a shocking counterpoint of the heat of him at her front, which only made her want him more. She rolled her hips, moaning when she encountered his hard length.
Before she had a chance to really enjoy it, he spun her around, forcing her to catch herself on the wall. “You are so damn determined to drive me out of my mind.” He sounded as frustrated as she felt. “I’m trying to do this the right way, but that isn’t what you want, is it?”
The only thing she wanted right now was exactly what he was giving her, his body against hers, his erection pressing against the small of her back. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m not going to date you.” I shouldn’t be doing this. Not here, not like this. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, tipping over the edge of the first drop, past the point of no return.
And she didn’t want to stop.
“You want me.”
She used her leverage on the wall to roll her ass against him. “I want you.”
“Fuck.” His mouth came down on the back of her neck, the move somewhere between a bite and a kiss. “And if I shoved down that ridiculous excuse for shorts and took you right here, you’d love every fucking second of it. But you won’t go out for one drink with me.” His hand moved across her stomach, stopping at the top button of her shorts.
Oh my God, is this really happening?
She could stop it with a word…but that wasn’t what she craved. No, what she wanted was exactly what his angry words were promising. She pushed back against him, silently demanding more. “Sounds about right.”
“No.”
She blinked, trying to focus through the haze wrapped around her mind. “What?”
“I’m not doing this again.” He undid the button, and dipped his hand into her shorts, bypassing her panties and pushing a finger into her. “So goddamn wet for a man you’re not even sure you like.”
She rolled her hips, trying to take him deeper, but the damn shorts prevented it. “Cillian.”
He kept kissing her neck as he pushed another finger into her. “No, sweetheart. I was down for exactly what you offered last time—a no-strings-attached quickie—but that’s not what I want this time. Not now. Not like this.” He pushed her shorts partially off her hips, giving himself some more freedom to move. “I like you, Olivia.” His words were so soft compared to the harsh way he fucked her with his fingers. “I want to get to know you.”
She was strung so tight, it was a wonder she didn’t burst into a million pieces. He was here saying things she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear while doing things that she most definitely did want him to do. “Cillian, please.”
“You want to come?”
Her breath sobbed out. “I might die if I don’t.”
“Good.” He stopped moving, his fingers still inside her, his breath heavy against her neck. “That’s about how I feel right now.”
She tried to focus, but he withdrew, sliding his fingers over her clit in a torturously slow movement. “Wait—”
“I’m not a toy you can just pick up when it suits you.” He kissed the back of her neck again. “I’m sorry about the last week. It was a fucked-up situation, and you’re entitled to be pissed. But you can’t tell me to get lost and then practically jump me the second we’re alone. It doesn’t work like that.”
He was seriously stopping this. She wasn’t sure if she should throw something or cry. Olivia tried to keep her chin up as she turned around, her body sparking from the lack of distance between them and the denied pleasure that was so acute it actually hurt. “You’re a bastard.”
“Probably. But I’m the only one willing to say what you won’t.” He was still too close, his breath coming as fast as hers, his cock making a tent of the front of his pants.
“You want me. I don’t…I don’t understand.” Any other guy would have taken what she offered, no questions asked. He had taken what she offered once before. Now here he was, riling her up and then backing down unless she agreed to go out with him. “This is blackmail.”
“No, sweetheart. This is respect. I want more than sex, and I don’t know how to prove that to you other than saying no.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Thanks? Fuck off? Please don’t walk away when I want you so desperately, I’m about to break my own damn rule and start begging? She crossed her arms over her chest, but the motion did nothing to combat the feeling of vulnerability creeping over her. What if this was it and she never saw him again? Fear that that was the truth forced words past her lips. “Cillian, please…” Her voice broke in the middle of the word, and she had to try again. “Please don’t leave like this. I…I’m sorry.”
He took half a step back, and then a look came over his face, something both fierce and apologetic at the same time. “Fuck.”
And then he had her against the wall again, his mouth on hers, his hand burrowing into the front of her shorts. Two strokes of his clever fingers and she was at the edge again. He pulled back enough to say, “A date, Olivia. Your next day off. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
She looked up into his dark eyes. “If I say no, are you going to walk away again?”
“No.” He pressed his palm against her clit, applying almost enough pressure to send her over the edge, and pushed a third finger into her. “But I want this, sweetheart. I want the conversations and the time, and then I want you naked in my bed so I can taste every inch of you before I fuck you.” He pulsed his fingers, little strokes that set her blood aflame. “I won’t leave you hanging tonight, but this is a onetime thing. It won’t happen again.”
“Are you sure?” She cupped the front of his pants. “You feel as out of control as I do.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He kissed her again, taking away her ability to argue, and then picked up his pace, ruthlessly pushing her to the edge and over, swallowing her moans as she came around his hand. And still he kept finger fucking her, drawing out her pleasure until her knees buckled and he was the only thing keeping her off the ground.
Then and only then did Cillian remove his hand and gentle his kiss. He took a step back, and then another, and pulled a card from his back pocket. “Call me. We both know you won’t regret it.” He pressed it into her hand, and then he was gone, striding off into the darkness and leaving her staring after him.
She licked her lips. “I’m pretty sure I already regret it.”