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She could handle a psycho ex that wanted her man back, could even handle this week, but what she didn’t know if she could handle was this blossoming sensation inside of her. It was a feeling that maybe she could fall for this man, and what scared the shit out of her was that she knew with time it would grow if she allowed it to.
Hell, to feel anything but annoyance and hatred for Rian after only being with him for this short time should have made it clear that she could be totally and utterly lost to him.
20
The coffee table was set with candles, the overhead lighting low and intimate. The curtains on the floor to ceiling windows were pushed aside, and because the room was so dimly lit the lights outside seemed exponentially brighter. Although she hadn’t been with Rian very long, she had seen a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act with him.
He could frighten her with just a look, have her needy and wet with the way he stared intently at her, and could kiss her off like nobody’s business. It was a love and hate relationship she had inside of her, one where she wanted to hate herself for feeling anything for him aside from disgust, but then she loved the way he made her feel when he touched her, or told her what to do.
She had actually been surprised the sex with him hadn’t been anything insane. He was rough for sure, but the things he whispered, the way she felt him touch her at times, let her think that how he acted wasn’t all of who he was. It was a hard exterior that she knew could be broken.
She stepped into the living room and glanced around the opulent space. They had finished eating dinner over an hour ago. But instead of Rian sleeping with her he had retreated to his office to work. Even if she had pushed everything back a week so she would have this time with him, it seemed Rian was still preoccupied with work. There were deep, loud, and angry muffled sounds coming from down the hallway, and she turned and stared in that direction.
A second later the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps, and then she heard a door open and slam shut. Rian was making his way down the hallway toward her, his face angry, and she knew that right now the bastard side of him was in full swing. He wore a pair of dress slacks and a white button down shirt that had the first few buttons at the neck undone. His sleeves were also rolled up his toned forearms, and when he walked right by her without saying a thing she knew she should have stayed in the bedroom.
Sorcha turned so she could face him and watched as he poured himself a drink. He did this twice, filling up the glass and then tossing it back before he repeated the process.
“You want one?” he asked without facing her.
She swallowed and nodded, but realized he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, thanks.”
He didn’t respond, just grabbed another glass, flipped it over, and poured a generous amount of the dark alcohol he was drinking. He turned and handed her the glass, and once she had it, he turned around and poured himself another one. Sorcha smelled the alcohol, wrinkled her nose at the potency of it, but took a drink anyway. She needed something to help calm her nerves.
Of course she wasn’t afraid of him, but she was unsure of things still, or how she felt around him, and the fact that she knew if she opened herself up to the possibilities that Rian wasn’t as evil as he liked to portray, she might have a hard time keeping her resolve. But in the last twenty-four hours they had surprisingly spoken several times, conversations that were personal, intimate even.
He’d asked her about her life, despite the fact that she knew he had dug up everything about her. And in return he had shared a few details with her, about his life, and how while growing up he had been alone most of the time. She wasn’t a therapist, but she assumed that maybe some of his aloofness stemmed from that.
But right now he was pissed over something, most likely work related, and she knew that his anger would be transformed to insatiable lust, and would be directed at her. It was fast, raw, pounding sex, and although she knew that he transformed his rage into the sex he gave her, there was never any anger directed toward her.
After he was finished with his drink he set the glass down and moved over to the window. Sorcha finished off her drink, and when she had consumed the liquid fire, she breathed out and set her glass down, too. Her eyes watered from the bourbon, and her stomach roiled. She breathed out and wiped the tears from her eyes. She so shouldn’t have tossed it back.
