“Watch your mouth,” he growls, spinning me to face him. My hair tumbling down my back as the force of his movement pins me to him. His face is inches from mine, eyes storm-dark, his anger rolling off him in waves I can feel in my bones. “You don’t get to rewrite what the fuck we just did because you’re mad at yourself.” His words hit deeper than they should because he’s right, and that’s what makes me furious. I open my mouth to tell him off, to shove him away, to say anything that will break the pull between us. His gaze flickers to my lips, and his mouth crashes into mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s a clash of anger, want, and denial. All burning through the space between us.
The spark that’s been simmering since the start roars to life. My hands find his chest without thinking, meaning to push, but they linger. His heartbeat pounds against my palms, a violent rhythm that makes my stomach twist as I’m sinking into him. No. Not again. The thought slices through the haze, sharp and cold. My jaw tightens, and I bite down hard.
He jerks back with a hiss, his grip loosening. The taste of copper blooms on my tongue, metallic and real dragging me back to myself. Our breaths are ragged. Cyan stares at me half-furious, half-smirking.
“Do that again and I’ll bite off your fucking tongue.”
Cyan’s grin is all teeth, blood flecking his mouth. “Careful, Aria.” I ignore him. My hand snaps up to slap him, but he’s ready and takes hold of my wrist before my palm lands. My pulse thunders in my ears; my hands shake in his hold. I open my mouth to scream, to spit something vicious. Then his other hand is at my throat, and his mouth is on mine, his tongue hunting mine like a dare. Fuck him. I give him what he wants. I bite down, but this time he doesn’t jerk away. He takes it, uses it, like possession made flesh. Victory flashes through me—wicked, stupid, hot—as he finally pulls away.
There’s a sliver of blood on his bottom lip. Before I can settle on the feeling of winning this round, his fingers clamp around my chin, rough and possessive, hauling my face until his thumb drags over my mouth, smearing his blood across my lips as if marking them. The logical part of me screams, warning, get as far away as I can. The rest of me leans in, intoxicated by the sharp edge of him, by the thrill of touching fire and not burning.
“Oh, lass, what a pair we make.” His brogue is thick and deliberate. A reminder that he’s not a man to be denied.
“Like I said, I’m not yours. I had an itch, and you scratched it.”
Cyan drags his hand through my curls, tumbling down my back. Fuck, I just fixed it too... glaring at him, hating that my pulse skips at his touch. He leans in, his breath brushing my ear. “You can say you’re not mine all you want, lass. But we both know those are lying words.”
A sharp exhale escapes my lips, trembling with barely contained fury. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch.”
His eyes narrow. “Careful, Aria. I’ve killed men for less.” I freeze, realizing my words had gone too far. Cyan takes a calming breath. “Now go back to your spreadsheets. We’re done here for now, lass...” Gulping, not waiting for another invitation, I turn to leave. “Aye, Aria, tell your aunt hello for me when you speak with her later.” I didn’t miss the veiled threat in his words. I force my legs to move pushing open the door and step out of the car... My legs tremble as I hit the sidewalk. “One more thing, Dove.” His words stop me again. “I’ve assigned you a driver. His name is Johnny. From today, he’ll drop you off and pick you up. He’s also your bodyguard. Coordinate your schedule with him.”
I stare at him, my vision blurring with outrage, disbelief, and the terrifying realization that I am losing control of my life. I want to let the scream out, but I keep it locked in my throat. Cyan doesn’t even look remotely sorry. Cyan MacBrady is a monster.
***
When I finally return to my office floor, I ignore the eyes following me, and the judgment in those stares. But I don’t stop walking, my shoulders back, my chin high, praying no one notices how my hands shake. I still feel that bastard’s touch on my skin. I reach my desk and freeze. The glass covering the framed photo of my parents and grandmother catches my reflection, and my stomach plummets, because now I can see what I look like, and the lingering heat in my cheeks. Cyan successfully achieved his goal today. I look fucked, claimed, and completely owned.
Shame crushes my ribs. I rip my gaze away and bolt to the restroom. The door locks behind me, and I slump against the cool surface, my breath ragged. Merciful silence. Finally I’m alone. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see a woman who has lost control of her own life. I rip a wet wipe from my bag, scrubbing at my lips and my neck after seeing a love bite there, as if I can erase Cyan’s touch. It doesn’t work. I reapply my makeup with shaking hands, swiping at my lips, my eyes, anything to make myself look normal.Get it together, Aria. Get it together.I smooth my blouse, but the missing buttons gape, exposing the swells of my breasts beneath my green lace bra. Damn it. Quickly, I grab the stapler. Stapling the fabric shut and wincing at the solution. I try to tame my curls, pulling them into a ponytail. I still feel like his. At least I look somewhat like myself again. I step out just as the elevator dings.
Simon walks out, sees me, and quickly looks away. Simon’s assistant, Cherice, along with two accountants on temporary assignment from the Boston office, Carla and Sam, glance away after meeting my eyes. These are the same colleagues who, just this morning, would have smiled, greeted me, and asked about my weekend. Now? They look away, no greetings, no questions, and no acknowledgment. Cyan got what he wanted. I’m off-limits.
Sixteen
“She called it meaningless. But I can still feel her hand on my cock and her moans in my fucking bloodstream.” – Cyan MacBrady.
Ipress the call button. “Call Johnny.” I listen to the ringing, waiting for him to pick up. Aria’s words slam around inside my skull. It means nothing to me. Like I wasn’t the man who just had her trembling under my touch, moaning my name, shattering apart in my hands. My grip tightens on the steering wheel, the leather creaking beneath my fingers. The streets blur past me, but I don’t see them. I only see her. The way she defied me, the way she pushed me away like I was just some passing indulgence.
As if I weren’t the man who marked her in a way no one else ever would. For a split second, I’m back at the house, a helpless teenage boy, frozen in place, forced to watch as my world rips apart. No. I’m not that weak, sniveling teen anymore. That part of me died a long time ago; I made sure of it. I yank a tissue from the console, scrubbing at the dried streaks of cum from my pants. The mess of it pisses me off more than it should.
I should have been inside her, have had her writhing under me, screaming my name, taking every inch of me until she understood exactly who she belonged to. Instead, I let her dictate the pace, and then she had the fucking nerve to act like it meant nothing. That won’t do. She thinks she can dismiss me and walk away. She hasn’t learned yet—but she will. Johnny answers.
“Change of plans. Keep more eyes on her. I want every move she makes watched.” Aria Concetta Boschett might think she can escape me, but she doesn’t understand yet. She’s already mine. “Can you keep up with everything else and watch Aria?”
“Yeah, C, I’m ahead with most of the projects and can take my work with me. I’ll call James and get myself an office space in her building so I can work while she is at office.”
“Good.”
“You want me to put men on her floor?” The thought enthralls me for a second. Yes. Box her in. Let her feel my presence with every step she takes. Let her know there’s no slipping through my fingers, but I shove the impulse down. If I push too hard now, she’ll dig her heels in deeper. This game requires patience. She needs to believe she has room to breathe before I close the walls in around her.
“Nah. Put some of our guys into their security and around the building.”
“Got it, C. I’ll arrange it.” Johnny hangs up, but my mind is still stuck on her.
That was the best fucking orgasm of my life, and it was just her hand. I still feel the ghost of her touch, the way she lost herself in my arms, the way her breath hitched, the heat in her cheeks as she came apart for me. Everything was perfect; she had to open her mouth, and her words cut deeper than any blade ever did. That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble, Aria.
I need to focus on Collin. I know my brother. He didn’t hear a damn word I said earlier. “Call Collin.”
“Yello,” Collin’s fake jolly voice grated against my ears.
