I think she nods. She’s beginning to tremble, so it’s hard to tell. Her lips are parted, and I can feel the tension in her arm.
"It’s not that I didn’t want you. It’s that you were fucking terrified, and despite that, I wanted you anyway." The confession tears out of me. "If I'd stayed in that bed with you, I wouldn't have been able to stop. I would have taken you, consequences be damned, and I would have hurt you in the process."
Her lips part, shock written across her face.
"You're eighteen years old," I continue, my voice harsh. "A virgin who's never been touched. And I'm—I'm not gentle, Maeve. I'm not the kind of man who knows how to make love. I fuck. Hard and rough and possessive. And you deserve better than that for your first time."
"Sean—"
"So yes, I want you to stay away from Flynn. Not because he's dangerous to you—he wouldn't dare touch you because you're mine—but because watching him flirt with you, makes me want to break every bone in his body." My jaw tightens. "I've never felt this possessive about anything in my life, and I don't understand it—why the thought of anyone else touching you makes me homicidal. But I’m going to fucking beat the life out of my best friend if he doesn’t stop looking at you like that."
She’s trembling in earnest now. "I don't want Flynn," she whispers. "I want?—"
“Don’t.” I bite the word out harshly, because if she says she wants anything from me that I could give her, anything that would end with my body over hers, against hers,inhers, I’m not going to be able to fucking stop myself. “Just stay away from him.”
Then I turn and walk out, leaving her there, alone again. If I stay, I'm going to claim her. And once I start, I won't be able to stop. The possessiveness, the desire—it's growing stronger every day. Every time I see her, every time I catch the scent of herperfume or hear her voice, it gets worse. I've never felt anything like this. Never wanted to own someone so completely, never felt this primal need to mark and claim and possess.
It should terrify me.
Instead, it just makes me want her more.
14
MAEVE
The next day, Sean comes to find me in my room.
I call out for him to come in when he knocks, not realizing it’s him. Seeing him there in the doorway startles me. I’ve barely seen him since that strange, confusing conversation we had yesterday—only at meals, and even then he was curt and short, barely speaking to me. Flynn was more reserved than usual, too, and I can only imagine that Sean had a similar conversation with him.
I might be innocent, but even I could tell that Flynn’s flirtation is just a part of him—like the color of his eyes or his hair. He can’t help it. It’s amusing and fun to listen to, and heischarming, but I can’t imagine it ever being anything more. I’d never expect Sean’s best friend to betray him in such a way, and the last thing I need is something to complicate my marriage more than it actually is.
But Sean can’t seem to see that.
He steps into my room, closing the door behind him. My stomach clenches as I watch him move—he’s like a predator, graceful despite his muscular frame and every bit as deadly. Myhands tighten around my book as I look at him, waiting for him to explain what he’s doing in my room.
“I want you to learn how to protect yourself,” he says without preamble. “In the event that anything should happen while I’m not at your side.”
I stare up at him, confused. He's wearing dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that shows off the muscled lines of his arms, and I have to force myself to meet his eyes instead of staring at the way the fabric stretches across his chest and shoulders, the dip of muscle in his bicep that makes me feel oddly warm and prickly.
Ever since our confrontation yesterday, when he grabbed my wrist and told me he wanted me, when his voice went rough and possessive and made something low in my belly clench with unfamiliar heat, I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at me. The way he saidminelike it was a brand.
I don’t make love. I fuck.
It’s been rattling in my head since he said it. I don’t have any experience with either of those. But something about the way he growled the word, even though it was meant to be off-putting, has left me feeling fidgety and hot since, unable to concentrate on much for very long.
"Protect myself?" I manage to say. "From what?"
"From anyone who might want to hurt you." His dark eyes are serious. "Or anyone else who sees you as leverage against me. You need to know basic self-defense. How to handle a gun."
My stomach drops. "I don't think I could—I'm not—" I shake my head. "I don't think I'm capable of learning something like that." I swallow hard. “Is this about Flynn? About you not wanting him near me? Because my bodyguards are supposed to?—”
It's true. I've never been good at anything physical. Growing up, Siobhan was the athletic one, the one who played field hockey and went running every morning. I was the clumsy younger sister who could barely make it through a gym class without tripping over my own feet. Over the years I’ve tried yoga and other low-impact ways of getting exercise, going on walks, and those sorts of things, but in the last several months, everything has fallen to the wayside.
Sean's expression shifts, something almost like surprise crossing his face. "You're capable of more than you think."
The words catch me off guard. I blink up at him, searching his face for sarcasm or impatience, but I don't find either. He looks... sincere. Like he actually believes what he's saying.
No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
