Page 46 of Three Irish Kings

With Cillian, I don’t think attempting to seduce him would get me anywhere. I was right in front of him, nearly showing him my breasts, and he didn’t even blink.

I look across at him now.

He’s eating and not paying me any mind. His jaw works as he chews, a seemingly permanent five o’clock shadow covering it and his strong chin.

Cillian’s hot, but also cold. It’s like there’s something simmering just below the surface. Something maybe I would be curious to find out if circumstances were different. If my life was not on the line. If he wasn’t the likely candidate to pull the trigger on me.

Because, sure, all of them said they wouldn’t hurt me, but they are not the boss, are they? So, what happens if Ronan orders them to torture me? Or kill me?

Will they do it?

Will he?

He’s certainly talking a lot more than when we first met. Of course, when we met, I was screaming and he was putting me in a trunk, so there wasn’t much room to talk.

Why am I thinking about Cillian as if I want something from him? As if I wanthim?

Isn’t it enough that Dare and I hooked up?

God, it’s all I can think about. Experiencing that feeling again. The way he’d stretched me out...

But the worst part? I don’t just think about Dare. I wonder what’s in Cillian’s pants, if there’s a monster in there like Dare’s hiding. And Liam? What could he be packing?

God, why am I thinking about them like this? This isn’t me.

It’s like I can't stop thinking about sex. But not just sex. Sex with them.

But when I really think about it, that morning with Dare was the first time I’ve had sex in... God, it’s been years.

Not since Scott, and that was… my senior year in college, I think?

How have I denied myself pleasure for that long?

It’s not even like Scott and I had some big bad end or anything. He got a job in California, and I wanted to stay on the east coast. It’s really that simple.

So, when he left, I focused on my career and forgot about putting myself first once in a while, I guess.

“How was your sandwich?” Cillian’s voice startles me.

I’m surprised he spoke first. I’ve been carrying the whole conversation all day.

“Good. I’m usually a PB and J kind of gal, but that roast beef really hit the spot.”

“You know you can have whatever you want in the kitchen, right?”

“I didn’t. Thank you.”

It’s nice to be able to get snacks on my own. But if I’m allowed in the kitchen whenever I please, I guess they’ve removed all the sharp things in here already. They’re always two steps ahead of me, it seems.

I stand up and place my plate in the sink.

“I’m going to watch some television, if that is okay?”

Cillian grunts, and I head to the living room, lying down on the couch and resting my head against the armrest.

I expect him to stay in the kitchen, but instead, he walks in to sit in the recliner across from me, watching me intently as I watch some stupid reality television show about the rich elite in Texas.

After a few minutes of pretending to watch the show, I sit up straight. “Can I ask you a question?”