Page 35 of Sweet Vengeance
But that someone is a murderer.
A murderer who wants to protect me.
It’s all so damn confusing. I don’t know what to do or say, so I try to ignore that part of it and say, “Blowjobs.”
“Hmm. I like blowjobs.”
“With Rory.”
“Keep bringing it up, and I’m going to think you’re jealous, Kitten.”
“I am not.” But the way my stomach shifts says there’s a chance I’m lying.
“Good. Because I’d like blowjobs with you. If you decide you want that, you can be my first.”
My cock twitches, hardening at just the thought of that.
“Look at you getting hard for me. I’ve never touched a dick that isn’t my own. You want to be my first, don’t you?” Cillian’s fingers make a journey up and down my torso again. He’s so gentle with me. He’s never been anything but gentle with me.
“Please,” slips past my lips. I blush at having said it but don’t bother taking it back.
“We will. But not today. You’ve been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. When I touch you, I’ll make damn sure you’re in the right headspace and you want it.”
I let out an embarrassing whine when his hand moves away.
“Get some rest. Your body needs it.”
This time, it doesn’t even bother me to do what he says.I’m too turned on and too much…everythingright now to let myself even think anymore.
My eyes fall closed, and they don’t open again, not even when Cillian slips my glasses off, not even when he pulls me closer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cillian
It’s the middleof the afternoon, and Ollie’s out cold to the world.
That’s a good thing. He needs his rest so his body can heal, but I’m bored as shit. I’m not used to sitting around like this. There’s nothing else to do, so I end up just watching him.
Ollie’s lips are slightly parted in sleep. God, he’s got a fucking mouth on him, his lips plump and kissable. He looks so peaceful, like he’s not always worried about a million things, which I think is true of him when he’s awake. He takes school and his responsibilities so seriously, I can’t help wondering what he does for fun, how he unwinds and relaxes that busy head of his.
I shouldn’t have told him what I did earlier, shouldn’t have let him follow those breadcrumbs of truth. He would have known whether I’d admitted it or not, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have denied it. I’m surprised I’m here, that I’m lying in this bed with him after he asked me if I’m a murderer and I didn’t say no. It makes me an asshole that I’m compromising his beliefs this way, that I know Ollie is firmly on the side of right while I revel in being wrong, but knowing what I’m doing makes me an asshole won’t change anything.I’m still going to stay here, I’m still going to protect him, because I want him.
I want Ollie more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, and that’s incredibly fucking fascinating to me. I’m not the type to deny myself something I desire, and I don’t plan on starting with Ollie.
I watch him for another moment. He’s soft, tender, but still masculine. Every other time I’ve seen him, Ollie kept his face shaved, but he’s getting a bit of splotchy scruff along his jaw.
The bruises on his torso and face pull another low growl out of me. I still plan to kill the men who did this to him, despite telling Ollie I wouldn’t. They’ll die for what they did, and Ollie will never know the truth.
I slip out of bed, trying not to jostle the mattress. Ollie makes a soft moaning sound that goes straight to my dick and makes me smile. I’m going to enjoy this bisexuality thing. I just hope I’ll be able to enjoy it with him.
I walk over to my duffel, make sure Ollie didn’t wake up, then open it to look inside. It’s got my clothes and toiletries, but there’s also a metal box, one that’s just big enough to hold my gun and ammo.
Hefting my bag into my hands, I go into the bathroom, open the case, and slip my gun into my holster, which goes at the small of my back. I put the duffel bag away, get my other one, grab Ollie’s keys off the table, find paper to write him a quick note, lock the door, and leave. I’m not planning on going far, but I need some fucking air. Need to be able to talk without worrying he’ll hear.
The sun is bright and warm against my skin as I step outside the building. I love this time of year, love the weather before it gets too cold and snowy, which is miserable as shit. The Ashford campus is gorgeous, the lush greenery standingout among the white-and-red architecture. I find a quiet spot at a picnic table under a tree, sitting on the top, feet on the bench and watching Ollie’s building as I pull out my phone.
Conan answers on the first ring.
