Page 6 of Shattered Diamonds

A strong sense of awareness advises me not to touch him without permission. As if I did, I would be reprimanded in some vital way. My shaking hand hangs midair. His black left brow lifts, almost as if daring me to be so confident. Would I be so bold? Could I? To touch a man I don’t know, let alone one that rattles my insides with nerves. I’m frightened to my core, but also intrigued, locked in the green glittering flecks of his one eye while the other dominates with a saturated royal blue so deep, it absorbs the sparse light the hallway offers and denies a reflection in return.

I’m drawn to them, pulled in, awe struck, and flirting in an unknown world. I’m being absorbed by a man who has many years on me. Instead of my hand dropping to my side, I reach forward and brush the tips of my trembling fingers over his ticking jaw. My eyes lift, nervously becoming locked on his, seeking permission as I already commit to the urge. I revel in the feel of his obsidian beard. It’s thick and lush and… manly. The air between us becomes heavy. I feel as if I am suffocating by his sheer domineering presence. My fingers drop to the muted colors on his neck, trickling my way down to the red. A lotus flower spans the depth of his muscles. When I drop my gaze to the soft skin that has been manipulated by a needle, my eyes become blurred, and my mouth becomes slack, seeking air.

In my smoky tone—and what I think is a lustful gaze—I breathe, “You are beautiful.”

He snatches my hand away with force, glaring at me, holding my hand hostage.

“Did you have my permission to touch me?” His gruff voice demands an answer.

I’m stunned at his harsh question but worship the deep baritone that it was delivered in. I knew I was right in my assumption, but I am enthralled by the reserved power of this man who’s at least a decade my senior.

“No, sir,” I automatically reply with an apologetic tone to my unsteady, husky voice. “My apologies. I don’t know what came over me.”

His intensity is jarring as it rests between us. He leans in and breathes, “One day you will be given permission. Today is not that day. You have not earned it, giovane cucciolo.”

My feet plummet to the ground with his release of my waist. Although harsh in nature, he still had control over the way my body landed. And I, mesmerized by his aura, never realized my heels dangled carelessly in the air.

Before I know it, he is gone, vanishing in a swam of anger. It’s as if I imagined the whole interaction between us. But I know I didn’t. I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers over my mouth. Because I can still feel the heat of his breath on the soft skin of my lips.

ChapterFour

HAVEN

“Paisley,I swear, the place was amazing. The lights, the people, the energy. It was so cool.” My voice rises with each description.

“What about the boys?” Her eyes grow big as she throws herself back against her pillow and twirls her finger around her chestnut hair.

“No boys. Stop moving the phone around so much.”

Her mouth flaps open like a half-dead fish. “Do not tell me there were no boys at this club. In America, you must be of age, which I believe is twenty-one. Especially if they serve alcohol. It sounds like the club Ciarán took you to is an exclusive one, which means there were no boys there but men. Did you dance with any? Oh my God, did you kiss one? How did you get in by the way?” She twists, setting her phone down on the stationary stand so I don’t get motion sickness. These FaceTime calls with my female bestie back home can get animated. She has been given the gift of being high on life. Whereas I am the opposite and even-toned. We complement each other well. I bring her down and she brings me up. She gets crazy and I rein her in. She finds trouble and I steer us both clear of it.

“Yes, they were men. Not boys. And no, I did not kiss anyone. I am not going to just kiss some random guy.”

Although, I did want to.

“You’re going to get your first kiss in America. I just know it. The boys around here are just gross.”

“Paisley, you cannot say that. Just because your first kiss was sloppy and unbecoming, it doesn’t mean they will all be like that.” She gets super quiet. My best friend radar tells me something is wrong. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Paisley!” I shake my phone with effort, wishing it was her. She is hiding something from me. “Tell me!”

“I did it.” She turns on her side and grabs her phone, so she is closer to the screen like she is telling me a secret. Which, I guess she is.

“Did what?” I nonchalantly ask, already knowing but not fully grasping her confession or wanting to believe it. Then it hits me full force. “You what?!” I shoot up in bed, my hair flying in my face. After I clear it away, I see she is unhappy. “With who? When? Where?” I slide down into my covers and pull my white comforter to my chin. “Why?” My shocked excitement now diminishing as I wait for her answer. “Why?” I quietly ask again.

A long time ago, she and I made a pact that our first time would be with someone we loved. It didn’t matter what age it would happen, but we had to be in love. Foolish as it may seem, we were kids when we made the promise. The decision was made after we saw both our brothers with different girls all the time. They would come and go, often. When I left Ireland to come to America with Cillian and his army of men, she wasn’t dating anyone. We’ve only been here a short time. She wasn’t in love then and love doesn’t happen that fast. I wait in silence for her to explain.

“We made a silly agreement a long time ago.” She lets out a heavy breath, shifting to get comfortable.

“It wasn’t that long,” I correct her. “We were sixteen and it was right after Cillian’s so-called girlfriend caught him plowing into another girl. Do you remember how hurt she was? If he loved her, he would not have cheated on her.”

“I do. This wasn’t… I went into this with my eyes wide open.”

“You just gave it away?”

“I gave what I owned and wanted to get rid of.”

---