Page 2 of Twisted Secrets (The O’Malleys #3)
“See you later, Benji.” She was moving before she decided on a course of action, grabbing her jacket from behind the bar and heading out the front door. A quick look down the street showed a familiar figure striding away. “Hey!”
What are you doing?
She ignored her inner voice and started after him. “Hey! Cillian, wait!”
He didn’t turn around, and she cursed him in both Russian and English. Growing up the way she had, she knew plenty of creative phrases in both languages.
“Hey, stop!”
She ran after him, thankful she’d put on her badass studded boots instead of the pair of heels she’d been jonesing after. An eight-hour shift on her feet would have her hating herself if she’d gone with the pretty shoes—and they would have made it impossible to catch up with the O’Malley.
She grabbed his arm and froze at the feel of his muscles flexing in her grip. Holy wow.
He finally turned to face her and it struck her that, without the bar between them, he was so much larger than she was.
Not large like her ex, Sergei—this man was built lean instead of for brute strength—but he still dwarfed her.
And he smelled good, like some kind of spicy men’s cologne that instantly had her thinking thoughts she had no business entertaining.
Like what it would be like to bury her nose in his neck and inhale deeply. The desire to do so almost overwhelmed her.
Everything about him was overwhelming, from his beautiful face, to his impeccably styled dark hair, to the tattoos peeking out of his clothes at the neck and wrists.
The ink creeping up the side of his neck was like a wild thing trying to escape from his expensive suit, a strange combination of brute strength and poised polish that she should have known better than to be attracted to.
Except, apparently, her body hadn’t gotten the memo.
She realized she was still clutching his arm and made herself let go so she could offer back the cash. Right, because that’s why you chased him down a dark street. “I don’t want your money.”
“It’s called a tip, sweetheart. It’s just good manners.”
“I don’t want it.” Even as she said it, she wondered why she was being so damn stubborn about this.
He hadn’t asked anything of her. All he’d done was throw too much money at a bartender, which was something plenty of drunks did from time to time.
Except he wasn’t drunk. She should be elated at having the extra cash—God knew she needed it.
Instead, there was a growing recklessness in her chest, one she’d thought she’d outgrown a long time ago. “Just take it, okay?”
“No.” His gaze narrowed on her face, giving her the sudden thought that he saw too much.
Before she could decide what to do with that, he moved closer, giving her another whiff of that cologne that made her whole body break out in goose bumps.
Or maybe it was the man himself, the streetlights creating a skeleton’s mask of his face, turning his eyes into dark pits of shadows. “Why do you care so much?”
“Oh my God, just take it back.” She should drop the cash and head for home. Or, hell, at least take a few steps away so that she wasn’t in danger of brushing against him if she took a deep breath.
But she couldn’t force her hand to unclench or her feet to create any distance between them. She cleared her throat, trying to get her thoughts back on track. “I didn’t ask for your charity.”
“Yeah, I got it. You win. I’m an asshole.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words, no.” His gaze raked her body much the same way it had back at the bar, making every alarm in her head go off.
Spending any more time in this man’s presence was dangerous, though she couldn’t say for sure what she was most afraid of.
She lifted her chin in challenge, demanding…
She wasn’t sure what she was demanding. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she licked her lips.
What am I doing? Walk away. Walk away right now.
No. Not yet.
He murmured, “If the shoe fits…”
And then he gripped her jaw and kissed her.
She was so surprised that she opened for him—or at least that was what she told herself when his tongue slipped into her mouth and stroked hers. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, and somehow that only made their point of contact that much more erotic.
It should have stopped there. He was even in the process of leaning back when her too-long-denied hormones got the better of her and she fisted the front of his expensive shirt and yanked him back to her. This. This is what I came out here for.
He froze for one endless moment and, frustrated, she nipped his bottom lip.
She barely had a chance to register his going tense before he dug one hand into her hair, tipping her head back so he could get better access to her mouth, taking her as if he had every right to it, his tongue stroking hers.
He tasted of apple juice and cinnamon, making her head spin.
She should stop this. She would. Really, she would.
No, you won’t. You’ve never been able to stop yourself once the recklessness in your blood takes over .
She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than maintaining the pleasure his touch brought her for just a few minutes longer.
Her back hit the brick wall, his free hand hooking the back of one of her knees and hiking it up and around his waist. And then…
oh my God . There was only his slacks and her panties between them, his cock a hard ridge that lined up perfectly with her clit, the contact so good, it temporarily overstimulated her.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “This isn’t what I planned when I kissed you.”
No, she had no one to blame except herself for the desperation beating in time with her heart.
She knew she should stop. She knew too many men like him.
She didn’t like anything that he represented—a pampered son of a family grown rich on the backs of others and their own illegal activities. Hell, she didn’t even like him.
But she didn’t want to stop.
It was like the last two years had her turning into one giant snowball of need, and Cillian just happened to be in the right place at the right time to shred her perfect record of self-control. That’s all this is. He’s beautiful and he’s here. Nothing more .
She was reaching and she knew it, but she didn’t want to stop.
He sighed, the same world-weary sound he’d made at the bar. “Another time.”
“Wait.” She clung to him, her inner voice screaming that this was a mistake, but she wasn’t listening.
He went still, but it wasn’t with surprise like the last time. No, this was a predator ready to pounce. “Say what you want, sweetheart. I need you to be perfectly clear.”
Again, her common sense tried to say this was an awful idea. Two years of being good and keeping to the straight and narrow. If I’m going to jump off a bridge, it might as well be with this man. There’s no chance of feelings getting involved and me making the same mistake I did with Sergei.
One night.
One time and then I walk away with no strings attached.
She reached between them and cupped the front of his slacks. “I want this.” She stroked him, the feel of his thick length in the palm of her hand making her entire body perk up even further. “Just this once.”
He didn’t back up, his lips brushing hers with each word. “This is a mistake.”
“Yes.” There was no way she could pretend otherwise.
“Fuck.” He nuzzled her neck, making her shiver. “Just…fuck.”
And then he lifted her off the ground, waiting until she wrapped her legs around his waist to walk a few feet down the street to an alley.
It was cleaner than the one behind Jameson’s, but not by much.
She didn’t care, as long as he didn’t stop touching her.
Cillian readjusted his grip so he could wrap a fist around her hair, tilting her head back so she was forced to meet his gaze. “You’re sure?”
“Stop talking before I change my mind.” She kissed him, rolling her body against his until he cursed and kissed her back. The barely controlled desperation in every muscle of his body made her feel wild and free in a way she hadn’t in a very, very long time.
He guided her to stand, his hand going to the hem of her skirt. When he hesitated, she took his hand and guided it up to cup her between her legs. “You have a condom?” she asked.
“I don’t get you.”
“You don’t have to. Just don’t stop.”
“You don’t like me.”
“Nope.”
His thumb dipped beneath the band of her panties, stroking her so lightly, she was half-sure she imagined it. She made a sound of frustration and the bastard chuckled. “Damn, sweetheart. I think I like being someone you don’t like.”
He pushed a single finger into her, cursing when she clenched around him. She had the wild thought that it’d been too long and too much had happened and it would never work, but he pumped a few times, her pleasure building with each stroke.
She kissed him for everything she was worth, needing this more than she needed her next breath. A second finger joined the first, spiking her desire. “ Yes .” She rolled her hips, trying to take him deeper, but he apparently wasn’t about to let her drive things.
Cillian’s whole hand dipped into her panties, cupping her even as he continued working her. “When’s the last time—”
She reached down and squeezed his cock. “Are you really going to ruin this?”
“Hardly.” He slipped an arm around the small of her back, holding her in place while he stroked her, his thumb sliding over her clit, teasing her until her breath came in gasps and her whole body was strung so tight, it was a wonder she didn’t fly apart at the seams.
“The condom.”
He didn’t argue, just shifting enough that he could withdraw it from his pocket. She had the wild thought that he’d expected to take someone home tonight, but it didn’t matter. He had protection and that was the most important thing. He freed his cock and rolled the condom on. “How do you want it?”
Has anyone ever asked me that?
Stop thinking so much .
She turned around, shoved her panties to her knees, and braced her palms on the brick wall.
Cillian’s chuckle curled her toes, and then he was there, pressing against her back, his lips on the sensitive spot behind her ear as he notched his cock at her entrance.
“You think if I take you from behind that you won’t know it’s me.
” He shoved into her, drawing a strangled cry from her mouth.
His hand snaked around to stroke her. “Please, sweetheart. It’s my cock inside you, my hand on your clit, and it’s me who’s going to make you come. Right. Fucking. Now.”
He filled her impossibly, the feeling of him sliding in and out of her almost too much.
And he was right—there was no escaping the knowledge of him, like he was imprinting himself on her skin.
He circled her clit as he fucked her, surrounding her until her entire world narrowed down to Cillian and the orgasm that drew closer with every stroke.
“Now.” His free hand came up to cover her mouth, his words in her ear a dirty fantasy she never knew she had. “Let go.”
It was too late to go back, even if she wanted to. She came, crying out against his hand as he pushed her over the edge, her orgasm so intense, her knees actually buckled. He kept her pinned to him as his strokes became ragged, and he followed her over the edge, muttering her name as he did.
Olivia opened her eyes and tried to find her place in the new order of things. She took a deep breath, and then another. Nothing has changed. It can’t. But that was okay. He’d allowed her an escape, no matter how brief.
She withdrew and straightened her clothes, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he did the same. “Thanks.”
“Did you get what you wanted?”
She inhaled sharply. “That’s not what this was.”
“Don’t insult me.” He took her elbow and walked her out of the alley.
“That’s exactly what this was. You had a need and I fulfilled it—gladly.
” He flagged down a cab that had just deposited a group of men in front of Jameson’s.
She started to protest, but the look he gave her stopped her dead in her tracks.
Still, she made herself keep going. “I’m taking the red line.”
“Sweetheart, you can barely walk straight right now. Put your pride in the backseat and let me get you a cab.”
“But—”
He gripped her chin exactly the way he did when he first kissed her, those dark eyes seeing entirely too much. “You’ll be seeing me again, Olivia.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, opening the back door and guiding her inside. Then he shut the door before she could formulate a response, shoving some money at the cabdriver and stalking away. Olivia watched him go, her body still aching from his touch, her mind terrifyingly blank.
Oh my God, what did I just start?