Page 51 of Craving Sin

“Yes, but when you’re Rian O’Shea, I’m not sure that matters. They would love to find a way to lock me up and throw away the key. And even if our connections could get me off, I kidnapped you.”

“I won’t turn you in. Come on, Rian. You have to know that by now. I literally just blew you and asked you to come on my face so I could feel like I belong to you.”

“You do,” I tell him. “For now. But it won’t always be that way. It’s easy to get wrapped up in it while we’re here, but when you’re in the outside world again, that’s a different story.” He won’t want me anymore. He’ll go back to hating me. Well, he will if he’s alive.

“Don’t tell me how I feel. It’s beneath us both.” He continues cutting my food, then pushes my plate over to me.

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, you just want to kill me.”

I flinch. “I don’t want to kill you. You know that.”

He sighs, then closes his eyes. “Goddamn you. I do.”

Going off instinct, I reach over and take his hand. “I don’t understand this…what it is. Why I felt the way I did the first time I saw you. Why I followed you. Why I took you instead of killing you that night. Why I kissed you…touched you. Why I want you. I haven’t wanted anyone since her, and I know that doesn’t bring you any peace. None of it excuses what I’ve done and what I will do. I’m not a good man, Abbott, but you have given me something that I never thought I would have again. Something I never thought I would want again and something I won’t want again after you’re gone.”

Because it’s going to break my heart. I hardly survived it after Moira. I’m not sure if you can even call it surviving, but losing someone again and being the one to take his life, I won’t be able to come back from that. The only thing that will keep me going is Cillian and the fact that I won’t ever allow myself to abandon him again.

Abbott nods. “Tell me more about him, your son,” he says as though I’d just spoken about Cillian out loud. It’s just another way he shouldn’t know me, but somehow does.

“Okay,” I reply, and then I share my son with this man, whom I want in ways I can’t describe or understand, while at the same time, I wish he’d never met me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Rian

We spend a lot of time naked together over the next couple of days—in bed, out of bed—Abbott sucking me off, jerking each other off, or me jerking myself off—and every time I come, it’s on him or in his mouth.

He likes to wear it, walks around proudly smelling like me, and more than once, I’ve found myself wishing other people were here, that they would get close enough to scent me on him and know that he’s mine.

It was awkward the first time I wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling another dick that’s not my own, but I’ve gotten the hang of it now. I savor the feel of Abbott’s thick, hot shaft against my palm and the way he arches toward me, mouth open, soft, hungry sounds and pleading falling from his lips.

I’ll remember it forever.

I’m obsessed with his freckles. I kiss them, lick them, trace them—force myself not to tell him how addicted I am to them. No good will come of it.

When we’re not touching each other, we’re spending our time like we had been before—cooking and eating together, going on walks, sitting on the back porch, playing games, listening to music, and forcing each other to dissect our favorite pieces. I can’t remember the last time I let myself go like this—but I know that it had to have been when Cillian was a kid, and Moira was still alive.

It’s freeing in a way I need, in a way I didn’t know I missed until now, and I keep thinking about what it would be like to take time off with Cillian. To go on hikes or fishing or something like that—those things I used to sneak away and do with him when he was a child, and I was able.

I look at my phone when it rings, not surprised to see Conan’s name. He’s been messaging daily to check in, to make sure everything is okay, and to confirm I haven’t done anything stupid. It sucks to have a friend who is so observant. I love Finan—the other member of our family I’m closest with—like a brother, but he doesn’t pay attention enough to notice the kind of things Conan does. It would be a lot easier for me to pretend with him.

“Tomorrow?” Abbott asks. We’re lying on the couch, me on my back, him between my legs, with his head on my chest.

My heart squeezes.

Yes. Tomorrow. If I don’t make my way back to Boston, then I know Conan will come here looking for me, and he’ll have backup with him. I can’t hide out here forever, and the longer this goes on, the harder it will be.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Abbott I don’t want to talk about this. It’s the first time either of us has brought it up since we talked at dinner right after the first time we were together, but if he can be here, kissing me, touching me, knowing what I’m going to do to him, then the least I can do is be man enough to answer his question. “Yes.”

He sits up, fingers playing with my chest hair. “I told myself I was going to get close to you…pretend to accept my fate, but that I would always be looking for a way out…and that I would escape. I’d get away and turn you in and would never have to see you again—that I would win.”

“And now?” I ask, cupping his face, thumb drifting back and forth over his cheekbone.

“Now, I’m just tired. I’ve had too many realizations while I’ve been here, and I don’t have the energy to try and change something I know I can’t.”

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? How can I even consider hurting this beautiful, perfect man?