Page 70 of Godless Saints

Cillian immediately dragged me against him, arms locking around my waist in a crushing hold, chest flush to my back, one leg hooked over mine. His cock, still half-hard and slick, nestled against my ass like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space.

“You’re thinking too loud again,” he murmured. “Stay. Just… stay, Moonshine.” His hand slid down, palm warm over my hip, thumb brushing slow circles. “You okay?” he asked. “Any pain?”

Fuck. Why was he looking at me like that?

“This changes nothing.”

His arms tightened, fingers flexing. “Moon…” The way he said my name cracked something dangerous in my chest.

I sat up slowly, ignoring the protest in my body, the sticky mess between my thighs, the way my arms still shook. Control. I needed it back before I let this destroy me. I reached for my clothes. The fabric felt cold and wrong against heated skin.

“You got what you wanted,” I said, even as my fingers trembled on the buttons. “Tell Mikhail I’m ready to leave.”

Cillian sat up like I’d struck him. For a second he just stared, chest rising and falling too fast. Then, in one frantic motion, he surged forward, arms wrapping around me from behind, pulling my back flush against his chest. His grip was iron-tight, almost bruising, one hand splayed possessively over my stomach while the other gripped my hip.

“Stay,” he rasped. The word cracked. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

His whole body was coiled tight against mine, trembling. His lips pressed open-mouthed to the nape of my neck, desperate. I stepped forward, breaking his hold. His fingers lingered, sliding down my arm as I pulled away.

“No. This was a mistake.”

Silence stretched. When I glanced back, his jaw was locked, eyes too bright.

I smoothed my shirt down. “I said… Tell Mikhail I’m ready to leave.”

“You goin’ back to her?” Raw with jealousy. “Right after you begged me to fuck you?”

My chest went painfully tight. Zara was nothing. Just a shield. Saying it now would make this real.

“This has nothing to do with her.”

He watched me for a long moment. Then he reached for his phone, defeated.

“Fine. I’ll message Misha.”

I gave him my coldest smile. “It’s just sex, Ashbourne. Get over yourself.”

I was already carving out my own heart and calling it control. I headed for the door before stupidity won. And stopped. There, on the heavy oak desk beside an open Korean textbook, pages covered in Cillian’s messy, determined handwriting, phonetic notes underlined twice, sat my penguin keychain.

The little blue penguin stared back at me. He’d been practicing. For me. Don’t act like it meant something. Why the fuck does it feel like it did?

I focused on the floor. Legs still shaky. I stepped into the corridor. The door clicked shut behind me like a final fuck you. I should never have let him inside me. I already missed the burn of him. And the worst part was knowing I would let him do it again the second he asked.

CHAPTER 17

CILLIAN

The door shut behind him.

I stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving. Sheets twisted. Moon’s scent everywhere, on my skin, in my mouth, flooding my lungs. Cock still hard against my thigh. Back burning where his nails had torn me open.

Fuck.

It was more than sex. He hated being vulnerable, but he trusted me. Tonight the mask slammed back on the second he came. I thought he’d at least stay the night.

I shoved a hand through my hair.

The Korean textbook sat open on the desk. My messy handwriting. Phonetic notes. That fucking penguin judging me for how far gone I already was.