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“Hey,” I called out first, waiting for him to turn around and look at me. His eyes slightly widened when he saw me approaching, and as he sat down, placing his plate on top of the table, I noticed a barely there frown between his eyebrows and wondered what it was about. “I see you’re already making yourself feel at home,” I laughed, pointing at the sandwich on his plate.
A smirk played on his face as he leaned against the backrest of the couch, his eyes slowly dragging over my body, burning me slowly in its wake. But I stood strong, refusing to think of what it would feel like if he looked at me as more than just a friend.
“And I see you look freshly fucked.” My blood froze at his words, the small inkling of fear that he knew more than he let on freezing me in place. “I came by yesterday,” he continued while I just stood in the same place, keeping my face even. “And the way she screamed your name…” he trailed off, plastering a wide grin on his face, but not before I saw something else flash through his eyes.
Something akin to jealousy.
But it was gone faster than it appeared, and I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing.
When I first brought her to the apartment, I could barely restrain myself from hitting him for even talking about her. Yet today, in this new light, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he joined us. If he was there, taking and giving. But wishes and dreams were one thing, and I knew I would never be able to put these into reality.
“It’s been a day,” I chuckled, striding down toward him. “She’s still sleeping.”
He hummed, biting into his sandwich. “I bet.”
My toes curled as I walked over the cold marble, the icy tendrils rushing from my feet through my entire body. I sat down on the couch opposite of the one where Chris was sitting, creating some much needed distance between us. After yesterday I didn’t trust myself not to blurt out what I wanted to say.
I almost said he could have joined us yesterday, that he should have been there as well with the two of us. But I kept my mouth shut, my jaw straining from the force with which I was grinding my teeth.
His baby blue eyes stayed on me the entire time he ate, while silence enveloped itself around us, making everything seem so much more elevated. My breathing, his every move, the slight shuffling as I moved on the couch, crossing my legs. He spread his arms over the backrest of the couch, his shirt stretching over his chest, and I both hated and loved the small zings of anticipation humming in my blood at the mere sight of him.
I suddenly wanted to get up and walk over to him, to see if he was hard all over, or if his skin was as soft as it looked. I needed Evelyn here, dammit, if nothing to play interference, because I couldn’t be having these thoughts about him. Not today of all days.
I’ve been so good hiding my feelings all these years, but it was as if my day and night with Evelyn had opened something up in me, pushing me to act upon my desires, and it couldn’t fucking happen.
“So,” I started, breaking through the electricity in the air. “Wanna tell me why you are here this early?”
* * *
Christian
Jealousy was a tricky little feeling.It would make a lesser men commit murder for the way I felt today, after finally, fucking finally realizing that I didn’t want to hide what I felt for this man sitting right in front of me.
Cillian Nightingale was the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my entire life, and I was done trying to hide the fact that I couldn’t live without him. The moment I stepped into his apartment yesterday, I could hear them both—fucking, moaning, loving each other in the way I wanted to be loved. My cock throbbed in my pants just remembering the way she called out his name, or the way he moaned for her, his deep voice echoing through the entire apartment.
I almost came undone just listening to them, panting in front of those doors like a fucking teenager with a boner.
The needy little sounds both of them produced almost brought me to my knees there and then, but I stopped myself from barging in because I knew he wouldn’t want me to be there. I’ve been in love with Cillian Nightingale since we were children, and it killed me to see him slowly dying in front of my own eyes, drowning in the misery and pain his parents caused.
I still remembered him as a grinning teenager that just wanted to play video games and do nothing all day long. Until that teenager changed overnight, turning into this version of him that held so much terror in his amber colored eyes, and I had no idea how to help him. But today… Something was different today.
Gone were the taut lines around his eyes, replaced by a look of pure pleasure, and the jealousy I was trying to extinguish roared back to life in full force, because it wasn’t me who'd put it there. This wasn’t the first time Cillian had slept with somebody, but it was the first time that he didn’t feel the need to kick them out as soon as they were done.
This was the first time where my heart split in two, bleeding on this marble fucking floor, wishing it was me. I always wanted it to be me.
I saw the way he looked at her when he brought her over. I saw the protective stance he took when I talked about her, when I joked about taking her with me. And I fucking hated the fact that I started disliking the blond haired girl just because she gave him something I never could.
She gave him peace in a world filled with ugliness, and I resented the fact that I couldn’t be the one to do so.
My hands fisted, resting on the couch, as my eyes feasted on his form, on his perfect fucking face, and I allowed myself to imagine what he would look like on his knees, following orders issued by me. I wondered if he would cry out when I finally took his perfect little ass, or if he would try to defy me with mischief in his eyes.
Fuck, I groaned inwardly and dragged a hand over my face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, completely unaware of the filthy thoughts filling my mind. I’d been with my fair share of men and women over the years, but no one has ever come close to what I felt for him. I had a deeply rooted desire for this man. A deeply rooted love where I would stop at nothing to destroy those that wanted to harm him.
Including his own brother.
That little bitch was running around our city, our place, causing havoc wherever he went, and I needed to put a stop to it. I needed to put a stop to the frown that marred Cillian’s face ever since he'd returned from Santa Monica, telling me what happened with Ava and Tristan. I never liked either of them, but I always played along for his sake.
