“Let me hear you say it, Dove.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Give me the green light to turn these dreams of mine into reality, yeah?”
Cyan’s accent is thick, his stare burning into me. The weight of his desire is tangible, warm in the space between us, coaxing me forward. For a second, I almost do it, tell him yes. It takes everything to look away, breaking from hisglasz,hypnotic stare.
What the hell was I thinking, stripping for him like I wasn’t terrified of the consequences?Why do I always think I can control him. He’s better at this game than I am, and we both know it. The questions creep in, curling through my mind like smoke.What will it cost me?Once I cross that line, it isn’t just sex. It’s choosing him, his world, and I don’t know if I can live with that choice.
He’s even more dangerous now, as I go from trying to escape Cyan, the mob boss, to wanting to understand Cyan, the man. That’s far more hazardous, I step away, retreating toward my side of the bed, faking a confidence I don’t feel.I need distance. Sliding under the covers, placing myself as far from him as possible. “Cyan, your dreams come with terms and conditions I’m not willing to sign away.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.“Aye, Dove.” Cyan joins me under the covers his arm snakes around my waist, dragging me backward until my spine collides with his chest and the long length of him, hard as iron presses against the small of my back. Raw heat vibrates off him like a live wire. I don’t move away; not waiting to. I wait expecting more, his hands, for his fingers to explore, to coax me further down this dangerous road, but nothing happens. Nothing at all. Cyan’s arm remains heavy across my waist, no fingers fiddling with my bellybutton. Frustration sparks low in my stomach, tightening between my thighs. Are we just... lying here?
The realization makes something twist inside me. That feels a little like disappointment. I shift slightly, testing, but his grip stays firm, possessive. What the hell kind of game is this?
“So we’re just going to sleep?” I finally ask, betraying the edginess I’m feeling.
Cyan hums, lazy amusement laced in his tone. “That’s a thing couples do in bed at night. Why? Were you expecting we’d do the other?”
The smug bastard. “You know exactly what I meant.”
He shifts behind me, his lips brushing just beneath my ear, his breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “All you have to do is ask, Aria, and I promise, this bed won’t just be for sleeping.” His accent is velvet-wrapped in sin, smooth and taunting.
Heat creeping up my neck, I say nothing. A slow, knowing hum vibrates from his chest.
“Okay, then. We sleep.” I don’t have to see him to feel the grin tugging at his mouth. “You know you’re playing with fire, right?” Cyan’s grip tightens around my waist, his breath warm at my nape. “You’re putting us both through the wringer. Believe me, Dove… your body’s going to have the final say. You’ll beg me to fuck you. Soon.”
My pulse slams through me. My core clenches around nothing.Damn him.I bite my lip, refusing to react. If I open my mouth, I’ll say something reckless, that would have me on my back and that glorious length inside me. The silence stretches, thick and electric. I know he’s still awake. I’m wide awake too. My thoughts are too loud. Lucilla’s slurred words echo in my thoughts again:That’s the thing about being a mobster’s wife.What if she’s right? What if I’m already halfway there? The way she looks longingly at Thomas is like an obsession she can’t seem to shake. Was Thomas like Cyan in the beginning of their relationship and changed once she gave in?
“Cyan…”
He hums in acknowledgment. I exhale, steadying myself. “Lucilla and Thomas. What happened to them?” Another hum. His fingers start a lazily ritual trace along my stomach. Not teasing. Just… thoughtless habit. “They seem like such a mismatch,” I continue, trying to keep my tone casual. But the question sinks deeper.Is that what happens in this world? Is that what happens when you let someone like Cyan win?His fingers dip lower, brushing lightly over my belly button, and I swear my breath stutters.
“Ah, so we’re taking the avoidance route, are we? That’s fine by me. I’ll follow your lead. So, tell me, Lass, why do you think Lucilla and Thomas are a mismatch?”
I shift a little, ignoring how my body warms under his touch. “t’s clear from observing them tonight she feels more for him and Thomas seems to resent her. The way she looks at him with such longing. Did you see the way she was drinking? She’s struggling with a lot.”
Cyan exhales, like this is a topic he doesn’t particularly enjoy. “Yeah. They are a mismatch, I guess. But as a family, we’ve made the call to keep our heads down and avoid the chaos.”
“Avoid the chaos?” I scoff. “They’re married and miserable, and Evie’s caught in the middle of it. How’s that avoid anything? They’re only punishing themselves and her.”
“Listen, I can only speak for Thomas, yeah? I don’t think he resents her–but it’s his damn vow. But Lucilla? That’s a whole different story. If she wanted out, she could leave. Thomas wouldn’t stop her.” That sticks in my mind. Why hasn’t she left? Is it a situation like Rosa’s? Lucilla’s hoping things will change.
“Why? What plausible vow does Thomas have for staying in that unhappy marriage?”
Cyan fingers still against my skin. “Thomas thinks he’s doing the right thing, yeah? He knocked her up and married her as a result. To him, that’s just what a man does.”
“So, what? He’s just going to let them both suffer for the rest of his life because of that.”
Cyan chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Trust me, you’ll never meet a man more stubborn than Thomas O’Connor.”
Yes, I have. You’re that kind of man, Cyan.I don’t say it aloud. “Okay, but what about Troy?” I press. “Does he want his brother happy?”
“Thomas and Troy? Different story, Dove. Troy lost his mum when he was really young. But Thomas? His mum didn’t die–she left. Abandoning him with a father who drank himself into oblivion. And that? That fucked him up in ways he’ll never admit.”
My chest tightens. Losing someone is agony, but being left behind by choice? That’s a wound that never scabs over. I know how it feels. That kind of hollow, the questions that gnaw at you in the dark.
Maybe that’s why Thomas hides behind his conviction—admitting the truth would mean facing his past. “So, what? Marrying Lucilla was his way of proving he’s better than his mother?”
Cyan’s beard grazes against my shoulder. “Something like that, and Troy respects his brother’s vow. They were raised to believe a man keeps his word. Doesn’t matter if it costs him.”
I swallow. It’s noble and tragic as hell, because staying for the sake of duty isn’t the same as staying for love. “I admire his resolve... But if you’re miserable, you have to know when to walk away.” Cyan shifts again behind me, adjusting his cock, so that his chest now presses flush against my back. He’s warm and solid.
