Pas de Deux: Part Two (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 2) (4 page)

Immediately, Cillian froze, and there was nothing but the sound of the cheesy movie playing in the background and her noisy, panicked breathing.

“W-wait,” she stammered again. “I just—I just—”

Cillian kept his hands still but his warm, soft lips grazed her cheekbone. “I'll stop if you want me to. But you don't have to be scared. Okay? I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“P-promise?”

“Promise.”

He's not going to hurt you. He's not going to hurt you.

He squeezed her fingers gently before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, touching her cheek. “I just wanna touch you. That's all. If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sammi lay perfectly still, her breath hitched in her chest as her heart kicked into an impossibly high gear, and after a moment, he returned his fingers to her inner thigh, close to her knee, and brushed her skin with a light touch that made her shiver.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured.

“No.”

“Sure?”

“...Yes.”

She shut her eyes as the low simmer between her legs flamed into white-hot tingles and the aching sensation returned with more intensity than before. She bit back a gasp when his fingertips, with the lightness of a breath, brushed her through the lace material of her panties. The surge of pleasure that followed made her eyes fly open.

After a pause, gauging her reaction, Cillian took her lips with his again and continued the light, grazing movement of his fingers that made her jolt every time she felt them. They brushed the edge of her panties, slipping just beneath.

“Okay with you?” he asked into her neck, the touch of his lips and the velvety, aroused gruffness of his voice making her shudder with need.

No. Yes...he won't hurt me. I trust him. I trust him.

Sammi nodded once, terrified but desperate for more, and his fingers moved slowly, further in, until the tip of his finger brushed her flesh. Wetness glided with his finger and this time, she couldn't suppress the loud, sharp gasp of pleasure she sucked in.

Cillian made a soft noise of approval deep in his throat as he stroked the tip of his finger slowly upward, her wetness carrying him along, until he reached the tiny area at the apex of her core that screamed to be touched. His finger circled lightly, over and over, until the slow, pulsing heat warming her insides began coiling tighter and tighter.

Sammi tried to tell him that something strange was happening to her, tried to tell him how
good
it felt, when that coil wound just a little too tight, and with a final swipe of his finger, it snapped like a taut violin string. The tingling heat burst deep and low inside her, and she came in a shuddering, gasping rush, her eyes flying wide open but seeing nothing as waves of pleasure slammed into her and she took it all, shaking in his arms.

Cillian held her close until her shaking calmed. When she was still, he arranged her panties back into place and pulled the skirt of her dress back down, returning his fingers to her thigh as his lips moved against her neck. His hand ran languidly up her abdomen, stopping at her sternum to press lightly there as his lips moved to the pulse in her neck. It was still beating fast and hard, matching her quick breaths, but a slow, deep, satisfied sense of extreme relaxation she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before settled over her.

She could still feel his hardness pressing into the back of her thigh; if it was possible, it felt even harder than before. Sammi shyly met his eyes, certain her blushing was visible even in the dark, and swallowed, biting down into her lip. His smoky eyes moved over her face and he tilted his head, lowering his mouth and slipping his tongue between her lips to find hers. It did nothing to help slow the beating of her heart or extinguish the slow burn of desire down low in her belly.

He gave the tip of her tongue a little flick with his before chastely pressing his lips to her temple and wrapping his arms around her tightly, pulling her into chest.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured into her hair.

She wanted to protest, wanted to move her hands against him, wanted to taste his lips some more, but the shock of pleasure her body had just endured melded into a sleepy, soft heat, pulling her down to relax in his arms and she was asleep before any other part of her could move.

The little bundle of warmth that had spent all night pressed into Cillian's chest was suddenly gone. Years of military training had taught him to be instantly alert and he opened his eyes in the darkness, reaching out, searching for the warmth. A small hand grabbed his.

“Hey,” a sweet voice whispered in the darkness. “Just stay there and sleep a little. I have to get ready to go into the café.”

“It's four-thirty. Come back here.”

Sammi's small form sat back down next to him and a pair of soft, pillowy lips pressed into his cheek and then his neck.

“I need to get there early this morning to make it up to Jazz. Otherwise I'd still be laying with you, I promise.” She trailed a finger down his cheek and along his jaw. “Just lay here for a little bit while I go get ready. It's too early for anyone sane to be up.”

Cillian watched as she got up from the couch and disappeared into her bedroom. After a moment, the shower in her bathroom turned on. A small, lithe shadow leapt onto the couch beside him, a low purring noise accompanying it.

“Hey, man.” Cillian held out his hand as the cat leaned into his palm. After a few moments of being scratched between the ears, Rocky jumped down and sauntered into the kitchen to nose his empty bowl and lap up water.

Cillian leaned back against the sofa cushion and shut his eyes, but he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He thought about Sammi in the shower and couldn't help the way his body instantly responded to the image that flashed through his brain. An ache, deep in his lower stomach, reminded him that his body had unfinished business from the night before and he shifted uncomfortably.

Ain't enough sports talk in the world to make this go away...

Despite the ache that bordered on full-blown pain, he couldn't hold back a surge of triumph. Last night had been all about her in every way possible, and Cillian was certain he'd done a good job of making her happy...and satisfied.

A half-smile tugged up one side of his mouth as his fingers slid together, feeling the phantom warmth and slickness of Sammi's excitement, and it did nothing to quell his own. Easing her back into intimacy was a challenge he was looking forward to undertaking; she had sky-high boundary walls, and they'd have to test them together. He was willing to wait for her no matter how long it took, but...

...this is gonna be hard. Literally.

Sammi emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, her dark hair swept up into a bun at the crown of her head, her face free of makeup. She was dressed in tight jeans, motorcycle boots and a soft-looking, slightly oversized black sweater that hung enticingly off one shoulder.

“It's awfully early for you to be that beautiful.” He tucked an arm beneath his head and smiled at her.

She smiled back, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. “I told you about sayin' stuff like that to me.”

“Yup. And I'm gonna keep sayin' stuff like that you.”

Cillian got up off the couch and stretched, the small bones of his back popping, then walked over to her. He trailed a finger over her shoulder before lowering his face to her neck, breathing in her freshly clean scent before he pressed his lips to her skin, enjoying the ripple of her flesh as she shivered.

“All right if I use your bathroom?”

She smirked up at him. “No. You gotta pee off the balcony.”

He shrugged. “Pretty sure I've done worse. I am in the military.”

She laughed and gently pushed him toward her bedroom. When he entered it, it was still warm and humid from her shower, the mirror slightly fogged, and the fresh, delicate scent that clung to her skin was in the air. Arranged neatly on the counter, in organizers, and on shelves hanging on the wall, was a vast assortment of girly things—makeup, an enormous collection of perfume, various bottles of scented lotions, scented candles.

A still-packaged toothbrush and a small, travel-size tube of toothpaste rested on the counter. Cillian smiled at her thoughtfulness and quickly splashed water on his face, then opened the package and brushed his teeth thoroughly.

As he rinsed his mouth, he noticed a small amber pill bottle on the counter.
She still taking those?
It wasn't empty, at least. He thought back to the night at the gym, in the ring. How she'd reacted to forceful physical touch. How it had triggered her need for the medication.

Maybe inviting her to a violent-ass MMA tournament was a bad idea, Ronan.

Cillian met his own gaze in the mirror, running a hand over his more-than-five o'clock shadow. He'd like to think that she'd come with him, because she liked him just that much, but if she declined, he couldn't blame her.

It'd be like what happened in the ring, all over again. And...that's never happening again.

In the living room, he found Sammi leaning over the table in her small kitchenette with a grocery store ad open on the table in front of her. He walked up behind her and rested his hand gently on her back. She turned and straightened so she could give him a proper hug.

“You know,” he began, pulling her close. “I was thinkin' about the tournament. How I asked you to come with me.”

“Mm-hmm.” She nuzzled his chest.

“I was thinking maybe that wasn't such a great idea.”

Sammi lifted her head and stared up at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Just got to thinkin' maybe it wasn't the best environment for you. Loud. Violent. Dudes walking around like they got somethin' to prove to everyone.”

“Those are some of the things I'm thinking about. But you just can't
disinvite
me.” She frowned at him.

Cillian couldn't help chuckling. “Sorry. I just want to make sure you're gonna be okay. That it's a safe place for you. If you decided you didn't want to go, I'd understand.”

“Thanks,” she said, pushing up on her toes. “I really appreciate that.”

She brushed her lips lightly against his, and his body, already heated and at a low simmer, burst into a full roiling boil at the slight touch. Cillian took her lips slowly, suppressing the urge to growl at the way her mouth opened eagerly beneath his. She tried to press herself as close to him as possible, and the feeling of her warm body up against his did nothing to help his arousal. He gripped her waist in his hands and held her away from him slightly.

No one needs to feel that at five o'clock in the morning...

“Thought you said you needed to get to work,” he said against her lips, then pulled his head back to catch his breath. She sighed and dropped her arms.

“I do. You're very distracting.”

“
I
am?”

Sammi went to the single-cup coffee brewer on the counter, jabbing a button to drip coffee into a mug and holding it out to him when it was done. He accepted it eagerly, taking a sip. It was delicious—definitely coffee shop-coffee, not generic crap from the grocery store, like what he drank at home.

“You didn't have to make this for me. I won't be able to drink it all before you leave.”

“Take the cup with you.” She smiled at him playfully. “I know where you work. I'll find you.”

He smiled back over the rim of the mug. “I guess I can't hide from you, then. I'll drive you to work.”

“Cillian, I can walk there in, like, ten minutes.”

“It's also, like, completely dark outside. C'mon.”

He grabbed his jacket and carried his mug to the door, waiting for her as she fed an impatient Rocky and locked up. Outside, the early morning chill whipped through the thin material of his button-up and he took another sip to warm up as he hurried to unlock the truck.

“So, what're you gonna do in there so early?”

“Get the front end going, the machines ready, then get the bakery case loaded, stuff like that.” Sammi stretched in her seat. “What about you?”

Cillian glanced away before she caught him checking her out. “Paperwork, study film. Train. Spar. The usual.”

“I notice you said nothing about catching another hour or so of sleep.”

“No rest for the wicked, is what they say.” He flashed her a smile.

One dimple appeared in her cheek. “Are you wicked?” Her voice was low, and like brushed velvet against his ears.

The sound alone had his blood singing in his veins. He stroked a finger along the back of her hand. “Sometimes.”

When they arrived at the café, he insisted on walking her to the front door and waited while she unlocked the gate, pulled it aside, and unlocked the door. She wedged her foot between the heavy glass door and the frame and looked up at him, dark eyes searching his intently.

He reached out to push a stray lock of hair that had fallen free of her bun behind her ear.
I had a great time last night, too.

“Take care of my mug,” she said finally.

“I'll protect it with my life.” He ran his thumb down the curve of her cheekbone. “Have a good day today.”