Page 20 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

The space between his brows crinkles as he slides his gaze down my body, pausing at the dress that’s molded to me. “Now, this dress is bloody hot.”

“Yeah?” I retort sharply. “Great. Imagine wearing the equivalent of a latex glove. I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean stuck ?”

I try to pull my hands free, and they don’t move like they’re in one of those finger puzzles I did as a kid. “I mean I’m quite literally stuck . I can’t get it off. You’re going to have to I don’t know… cut it off, I think.”

Cillian holds it together for longer than I probably would have.

I’ve gotta give him credit for that.

Then he loses it, tossing his head back and laughing. It’s one of my new favorite sounds, deep and raspy, echoing off the walls of my bedroom.

I try to be annoyed, I really do, but God, this is so absolutely fucking ridiculous and something that would only happen to me, that I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me.

Except the material of this stupid, godforsaken dress is so tight I can’t even really laugh because I can hardly breathe.

“Please, for the love of God, get this off of me,” I wheeze. “S-Scissors are in the drawer. Over there.” I jerk my head toward my nightstand.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but that’s fucking hilarious. And hot. Definitely hot too,” he chokes out between a laugh. “In the literal sense, not the figurative one since I’m sure you’re sweating in that thing.”

“I’m going to murder you if you do not help me out of this dress, Cillian Cairney, I swear to God.”

His hands lift in surrender, even though he’s still sporting a shit-eating grin. “Okay, okay.”

I stay rooted in place as he strides over to my nightstand, bending to pull the drawer open. He rifles around inside it for a second before turning back to face me, his cheeks suddenly red.

Why would he be tur—

Oh my God.

“Please pretend that you did not see that and carry on with your task.” My words tumble out in a rush. Of course, he found my vibrator. Of course. Because what else could make this entire embarrassing fiasco that much worse? A hot guy finding your battery-operated boyfriend.

Perfect.

Not that it’s something I use regularly because, sadly, I’m not that great at it. It’s overstimulating, and I’m more of a finger kind of girl, but that’s beside the point.

That’s not something I need to defend to him. There’s nothing wrong with self-care.

“Nice. Very girthy , St. James.” The lazy grin curving his lips only furthers my mortification and I’m positive that I’m going to die any moment now.

Truly, RIP, Rory.

She’s gone now.

Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pretend that he’s not standing there holding my vibrator in his hand. “You’re going to forget this ever happened, and you’re not going to tell a soul, I swear to G—”

“I wouldn’t. I’m just fucking with you.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t judge you anyway.”

Finally, freaking finally, he drops it back into the drawer, pulls out the scissors, and shuts the drawer. He makes it back to where I’m standing in two short strides.

He holds up the scissors. “How are we doing this?”

My brow arches. “What, you’ve never cut a dress off a girl before?”

“Can’t say I have, but here’s to the first.” He smirks lazily, giving me a wink that makes my stomach flip.

I truly don’t understand how someone can be so effortlessly charming but also a broody, grumpy dick sometimes. How does he do both entirely too well?

“Well, I’m also naked under here so…” I trail off, lifting my gaze to his. His green-flecked irises seem to darken, and I swallow the lump of whatever sitting in my throat. “Couldn’t exactly get this on with anything underneath it.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess we just cut it down the center? I don’t think you’d be able to get the scissors beneath anywhere else, but there’s a small enough gap between my boobs,” I add, nodding toward my chest.

Cillian’s gaze drops down, and I watch his jaw tense as he swallows.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I honestly would like to move to another country and assume a new identity. Witness protection of sorts, but the protection is from myself.”

With a raspy chuckle, he takes a step forward until I can feel the heat of him sliding over my exposed skin, and his fresh sandalwood scent invades every single one of my senses. It’s the first we’ve ever been this close and it feels… intimate. In a way I’ve never felt.

The air around us feels thick and charged, as if there’s a current surging through it.

“Hold still,” he murmurs as he brings the blade between my cleavage and begins to cut the leather fabric. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I’m practically holding my breath as he works, but it’s more so because of his proximity and not the fact that he’s got a sharp object so close to my skin.

My pulse races as I watch him, concentration etched onto every inch of his face. Those dark eyebrows pulled tightly together, creating a furrow between them, his pillowy bottom lip held hostage between his teeth. He’s got a small freckle just above his upper lip that I’ve never noticed until now.

Carefully, he cuts through the fabric with calculated precision, and after a few slow seconds, I can finally pull my hands free and suck in a deep breath. My body relaxes slightly at the liberation of breathing freely again, and I groan. “Oh God. I will never take breathing for granted ever again.”

“When I cut this a little more, you’re going to be…” Those raspy syllables trail off, leaving the statement hanging densely in the air between us as he slowly lifts his gaze from my chest to my eyes.

I slip my hand beneath the fabric to my boobs and cup them in my palms. “Well, I have to get it off, so you’ll just have to be a gentleman and avert your gaze.”

“And whatever gave you the impression…” he says, the warm caress of his breath cascading over my skin and sending goose bumps erupting over my flesh. “That I’m a gentleman , Rory?”

My God.

That may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and instantly, every single nerve ending on my body feels like it might be on fire.

Sometimes, it feels so… easy with Cillian that I forget how insanely hot and intense he is, but right now it’s all I can seem to think about. I’ve never been so aware of how good he smells, or how sexy his tattoos look as they wrap around his strong, corded arms.

The fabric of the dress falls around my rib cage, split open in the middle, and for a second he doesn’t move. His gaze is pinned to my heaving chest, on my hands that are doing a poor attempt at keeping my puckered nipples hidden.

Both of us are breathing heavily, but we don’t say a word.

My eyes flutter shut as shallow pants burst past my lips. It’s no longer the dress that’s controlling my breathing, it’s… Cillian.

“Why’d you order this?” he rasps.

I find myself lifting my shoulder in a shrug, trying to tamp down a nervous swallow. “Because… I wanted to feel hot. I thought maybe it would help me feel more confident. And I guess to see if guys would be more interested if I wore something like this because they clearly haven’t been so far.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes burning into mine as he rakes his teeth across his bottom lip.

I feel the warm brush of his knuckles down the smooth skin along the center of my chest as he slowly drags the scissors lower, cutting through the fabric and causing a shiver to waltz its way down my spine.

“You’re perfect exactly the way you are, St. James, and if any arsehole makes you think that you have to change to be what he needs, he’s the problem. Not you.” With every syllable, the rough pads of his fingers linger on my heated skin, the same way his words feel branded into my heart.