Page 131 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Oh, right.” My pulse races,and I laugh nervously again because it’s all I’m capable of. “Don’t worry about it.”

Someone shoves me from behind, and Killian grabs my arm to steady me. He pulls me closer, his glare directed over my shoulder.

Now his mouth is nearly touching my forehead.

I blink up at him, defunct of all social skills.

He tilts his head so our eyes meet, then says into my ear, “I have a present for you.”

“For me?” I squeak. “You didn’t have to.”

“I’ll give it to you and be out of your way.”He looks around the noisy pub before meeting my eyes again.“You seem to be having a great time.”

He rummages through his pocket with a strange look on his face.

Am I imagining it, or is he nervous?

I watch as he takes out a small box wrapped in Tiffany-blue paper.

“Here.” He hands it to me. “Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing much.”

I tear off the wrapping with fat fingers, embarrassed at my trembling hands. It must be a side effect of the wine.

“Killian,” I gasp, staring down at the silver chain with a green heart. Blood floods my cheeks. “It’s… beautiful.”

He shrugs dismissively, but the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.

“It matches your eyes!” someone shouts behind me.

I turn around to see the women from yoga and Orla hovering, watching us.

My brow arches as I give Orla a harsh glare. “Are you guys listening in on our conversation?”

She smacks her lips together to tell me I’m a moron. “Of course we’re bloody listening.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Go away,” I hiss, shooing them away before turning back to Killian.

He smiles as he takes the necklace out of my hand. “They’re right. It does match your eyes. Now turn around so I can put it on you.”

I rotate, making eye contact with Orla and the women, still watching me and winking. His hands are on my neck, fastening the chain. I touch the heart and nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his lips brush my neck. A delicious shiver of pleasure runs through me.

He turns me back around to face him.

“Thank you,” I choke out.

The band launches into a bad rendition of a Dropkick Murphys’ song, and the pub goes wild with whooping and cheering.

I let out a girly laugh and stare at Killian. It’s safe to say he’s the only billionaire the pub has ever seen. It’s a far cry from his fancy hotel bars.

I might be a little hysterical.

He runs a thumb possessively over my bottom lip, looking lost in thought. For a moment, I think he’s going to bite it. My lips part involuntarily, and I exhale an uneven breath, my heart pounding away.

I’ve been sleeping with Killian for weeks.

During the day, he’s still my grumpy boss, barking one-word demands and sending cryptic text messages.

Every night, he comes to my studio, and we have the most out-of-this-world sex. Going at it like horny primates. I feel all shagged out.

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