Page 45

My dress remained in a crumpled heap beside the bed.

I glanced at it, then back at Cillian.

"I'm afraid I had a rather difficult evening."

He looked at the dress and then at me.

"Would you like me to pick that up?"

"No. I'd much rather you kissed me again."

He smiled, stepped closer, and slid his arms around my waist.

"That can be arranged."

I caught the front of his T-shirt and pulled him down to meet me.

He came willingly, one arm banding around my back, and the kiss that followed had nothing polite left in it. All day I'd been furious, baffled, and fascinated in rotating shifts, and now that I had decided what I wanted, I meant to be every bit as thorough about it as I was about everything else.

"I've wanted this since Saturday," I said against his throat.

"So have I." I felt him smile. "Give me a minute with these boots, and I'll prove it."

Cillian sat on the edge of the mattress and bent over his laces. I knelt on the quilt behind him, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and kissed the side of his neck, slowing him down considerably. He cursed the knots cheerfully until the first boot hit the floor, then the second, followed by his socks. At last he twisted around and pulled me down with him as he fell back across the bed. We landed in a laughing sprawl that knocked the headboard twice against the wall. The bed was a full, bought for one woman and her sensible habits, and he took up most of it simply by lying there, his feet hanging off the end as though the mattress were a polite suggestion.

His T-shirt came off in one yank. My sweatshirt took longer when it caught on my ear, and he had to work me free while neither of us could stop laughing. Once it was gone, I stretched over him with nothing between my breasts and his chest. We stopped laughing when he kissed my throat, then my shoulder, then the swell of my breast, and I arched into his mouth.

Neither of us had any patience left for the rest. I fought his belt open while he dragged his jeans down his legs. I shoved my leggings off and kicked them away. When we finally lay skin to skin in the lamplight, the quilt rucked into a heap around us, I heard myself make a sound I hadn't planned on making.

On Saturday I'd explored this same body without knowing it belonged to Cillian. Now the sight of his tattoos against my quilt and the hard length pressing into my hip sent a fresh rush of heat through me. I followed the black lines across Cillian's shoulder with my tongue, and he found the ticklish spot beneath my ribs and made me yelp and nearly knee him in the jaw. He apologized by kissing it, and then by kissing lower, and I lost track of what I'd been about to say.

I wanted my mouth on him properly, so I slid down his body to get there, kissing my way across his ribs and the flat, tight plane of his stomach while the sounds he made grew rougher with every inch I covered. I'd made it as far as his hip when he hooked an arm around my waist and rolled us into a new position, leaving me facing his feet, my knees braced beside his shoulders and my hips above his mouth. His cock was a breath from my lips.

"Both," he said against my inner thigh. "I'd like both, if you're offering."

"I'm offering," I said, and took him into my mouth at the exact moment he put his on me.

For a while there was nothing in the room but the wet, shameless sounds we made. Cillian was lapping at my pussy in long, deliberate strokes, and I moaned around him so deeply that his hips jolted upward and pushed him farther between my lips. Then his tongue found my clit, and he went to work licking and sucking that swollen little nub like a man with all night to spare. I tried to match him, taking him deeper, working the base of him with my fist, humming whenever he groaned. We kept trading, each of us pushing the other toward the edge and then easing back to make it last, until every sound he made seemed to land somewhere low inside me and I could no longer tell which of us was leading.

I couldn't hold my rhythm after that. He had settled into a slow, firm pull on my clit, sucking it between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and it wiped out every scrap of my concentration. I let him slip from my mouth, pressed my forehead to his hip, and told his thigh a number of things I'd never have said at the office. The orgasm broke over me in long, rolling waves that locked my hips to his mouth, and I cried out without caring who in the building might hear. He stayed with me through every one, greedy and unhurried, until I had nothing left but a shaky, breathless gasp.

I wasn't finished with him, though. When I could move again, I turned around and kissed him until I tasted myself on his tongue, then slid down his body a second time and took him back into my mouth with the leisurely thoroughness of a woman who had no intention of making life easy for a man who'd spent his evening confessing to grand larceny from Heaven. I took my time, learning what made his stomach go taut and his hips lift, what made him curse, and when I swirled my tongue around the head and sucked, Cillian's whole body arched off my quilt.

"Everly." His voice cracked. "I'm supposed to be immortal, and I'm beginning to have doubts."

I smiled around him and didn't stop. His thighs went rigid beneath me, and a ragged breath shuddered out of him. Just as I felt him start to tip toward the edge, he caught me by the shoulders and hauled me up his body.

"Not like this," he said, hoarse. "I want to be inside you when I come."

"I want that more than I've wanted anything all day."

I straddled his hips and sank down on him in one long slide. The feel of him with nothing between us tore a gasp out of me. He swore, low and reverent, and his head dropped back against the pillow. He felt enormous in this position, deeper than I was ready for, so I moved slowly at first, rolling my hips until the stretch gave way to something that stole my breath. Cillian watched me with stunned hunger, as though I'd rearranged his whole understanding of the universe, which seemed rich coming from a man who had robbed Heaven.

"I'm not sending you home early," I said, bracing myself on his chest. "Not after all that waiting."

"Take all you want." He caught my hips and rocked up into me, and I forgot what I'd meant to say next.

The headboard banged the wall in time with us, and the lamp on the nightstand began to wobble. I reached out and steadied it without missing a stroke, which I decided was the most Operations Manager thing I had ever done in bed. Cillian shook with helpless laughter, and I felt every bit of it where we were joined.