“You know, I never got my fifty grand,” I tease with a smile, and he laughs.
“I’ll make sure to transfer your accounts from the High Roller to your new one.”
“Keep talking dirty to me.”
God, he’s so fucking handsome, especially when he smiles at me. His fingers are feather-light against my face as we stare at each other.
“I think we’re going to be okay,” he says.
“I don’t think I’m done making you suffer just yet.” I smile as I say it.
“What torture did you have in mind?”
“Besides spending ridiculous amounts of your money?”
“That’s not torture, that’s a given. You need to be more creative.”
I tap my chin, thinking about all the things I want.
“I want a cat.”
“Done.”
“I want a wedding ring, something custom-made that symbolizes the four of you when we bond.”
He smiles. “Done.”
“I want you to tell me all the things you like about me besides my scent or my looks,” I continue insecurely.
He moves his body even closer. His body heat is radiating off of him when he speaks.
“Where do I start? I like that you’re loyal to a fault. You stand up for yourself, even when you’re scared to. When I saw you that first night at the High Roller, I knew you were scared shitless. Your scent had this slightly bitter edge to it, but you faked it flawlessly. Even when you’re scared, you’re brave. You ran away with hardly any money in your pocket and a half-ass plan, butyou made it work for you. You’re a fighter. Even when you’re still mad at us, you stood up to my mother, which hardly anyone does. And I know you’d be a great mother.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I nearly leap into his lap to wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.
His scent is as comforting as his words were. This wall I’ve been keeping between us is crumbling down piece by piece.
“I forgive you,” I whisper to him, and he holds me even tighter.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, with me on his lap and his arms around me, but at some point, I must fall asleep.
“Lorcán is going to carry you to bed,” Cillian murmurs, and I groan, not wanting to leave his warm embrace. “I can’t carry you with my leg,mo stór.”
I pull back with sleep weighing me down.
“What does that mean?”
“My treasure.”
My brows furrow, and I wonder if it’s because I’m drunk or tired.
“But that’s the first thing you called me.”
He smiles. “Because it’s what you are to me. You’re my greatest treasure.”
I grab his face and kiss him. It’s probably messy and uncoordinated, but I don’t care.For the first time, I feel nothing but happiness about Cillian O’Brien being my scent match.
The amount of deliveries that have shown up for me is ridiculous, but with all my Luxe Nest items currently taking over the driveway, I remember Cillian telling me my room—which now has visible windows—is not my nest.
