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But we couldn’t hide forever behind meaningless smalltalk, and I knew we had to discuss what happened yesterday, what happened today and what we were going to do. I thought I would be the one to broach the subject, but Evelyn beat me to it as she swallowed the last bite of her pancakes, licking her lips clean.
And that little movement made me want to stand up, walk to her and bend her over the table, fucking into her tight heat until she couldn’t even remember her own name.
Her green eyes flickered from me to Cillian, the strain between us, and the wicked smile she wore earlier when she ordered us around was enough to have my blood pumping, because I knew she would push us to the edge where we could never come back from.
And for whatever reason, I looked forward to it, since it was obvious that Cillian wasn’t going to talk.
“Just so we’re clear,” she said, smiling at us. “If both of you are fucking me I expect a lot of lube to be involved.” Coffee spilled from Cillian’s mouth, the cup he was holding in his hand clattering down on the table. My eyes widened, not in a million years did I expect her to say that. “I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “I saw your dicks, and I’m telling you—there’s gotta be a lot of lube involved.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cillian mumbled, trying to clean his lips and his T-Shirt, looking at the spilled coffee on the table. “Straight for the jugular, huh?”
“Well,” she smirked, “you two look constipated to say the least, and I have a feeling that you would much rather just brush it all under the rug than talk about it.” She looked at Cillian as she said that, and I admired the spunk she had in her.
Not many people would call him on his shit. Hell, I knew maybe three, and that was Ophelia, Kieran and me. The rest tiptoed around Cillian as if he would explode at any second, and I couldn’t exactly blame them—he was a ticking time bomb, always strung up high, always on alert, and he couldn’t keep on living like that.
She stood up, taking her plate with her toward the sink, rinsing it as her words hung heavily between us. I chanced a look at Cillian, my breath hitching in my throat when I saw him looking at me as well.
Heat enveloped my entire body, his emotions clear on his face, and I knew I wasn’t the only one that felt the insane connection we shared. And it wasn’t only him and I—it was Evelyn as well. I had no idea what it was about her, but she felt like the glue holding us together. Before her I never thought we would be here, talking about the best fucking sex of my life, while she ate pancakes, Cillian drank coffee and I resorted to water, keeping my head clear.
Evelyn came back toward the table, bringing with her a cloth and cleaning up the mess Cillian made when he spat out the coffee. Her eyes twinkled, filled with mischief as she looked at me, and I knew what she was doing.
She wanted us to admit our feelings, but she didn’t know that I wasn’t the problematic one.
Cillian was the one holding his emotions so close to his heart, that people sometimes thought he didn’t feel anything at all.
Cillian’s jaw tightened, the tick evident in his cheek, but he didn’t say a word as Evelyn pressed her lips against his cheek and then walked toward me, running her fingers through my hair as she deposited the cloth on top of the table.
“My ex-husband raped me when I refused to sleep with him and his colleague,” Evelyn blurted out, shocking both of us. I turned around, my head tilting up to look at her. Those brilliant green eyes filled with tears as she stood there, trembling, lost in the memories that still haunted her to this day. “He, uh…” She cleared her throat. “He was amazing in the beginning. He was everything I ever wanted.” The little green monster reared its ugly head at the way she spoke about him, even though I knew that she held no love for the bastard that hurt her so much. “He would bring me flowers, cook me dinner, massage my feet after a long and grueling day at work, but then it all changed. I have no idea how I didn’t see it at first, but the signs were there, you know?”
She pulled out the chair next to me, her eyes plastered on the dark wood of the table, without looking at any one of us. “But then it started, slowly at first. He would get pissed off because I worked ‘till late. He would accuse me of cheating, of being a slut.” Jesus fucking Christ. “And then the punches came in.” She shuddered, no doubt remembering all those times he hurt her. “He used to apologize at first, cry even, because he didn’t want to hurt me. But the apologies soon stopped and he decided that having me as a punching bag was what I deserved.”
Her hand splayed over her flat stomach as she looked up at me, then at Cillian. “I was three months pregnant when he brought his friend home, telling me to get ready to be fucked.”
Cillian cursed out loud, tearing himself away from the table and pacing from one side of the room to the other, his shoulders shaking.
I knew where this was going. I knew Evelyn didn’t have a kid. It would’ve shown on the report I got.
“He kept on punching me until I started losing consciousness, and when that wasn’t enough, he pushed me down on the floor, fucking his way through my blood as I lost my child.”
Something crashed from behind us, and as I turned around, I saw shards of glass littering the floor, and the murderous glare on Cillian’s face as he looked down at the shattered glass. I jumped up, going straight to him.
I knew this brought back memories for him as well. Memories he never wanted to talk about, but I could see what Evelyn was doing. She was sharing the painful pieces of her life with us, sharing her story with the two men she obviously wanted to keep.
“Kill,” I murmured as I stepped in front of him. “Come back to the table.”
“He hurt her,” Cillian blasted, his eyes connecting with mine. “That motherfucking piece of shit… He hurt her.”
“I know, I know.” I shared his sentiments, but we had to keep a level head right now. Evelyn needed us, not to fight her battles but to listen to her. “But you need to come back to the table.”
Cillian’s eyes filled with tears as he looked over my shoulder at the shaking Evelyn, and as I looked at her too, I saw the familiar fear. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders hunched down while she waited for the rejection.
“I know I’m broken,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I know I’m not what anyone would want to have. But,” she looked up at us, “for whatever reason, and please don’t ask me to explain it, you two feel like home. The past five years have been filled with so much darkness, and as fucked up as it might be, having both of you with me feels like the first rays of sunshine after the years of rain.”
Her words wrapped around my bruised soul like a balm, soothing the wounds I didn’t even know I had. I always thought I was the more functional one when compared to Cillian, but the years of solitude, of yearning for someone to call my own, of a place to call home, left scars that never truly healed, until she said that.
Something switched in Cillian and without even waiting for me, he strode toward her, lifting her up from her seat. Evelyn wrapped her legs around Cillian’s waist, and as he walked toward the couch in the living room, he looked at me, waiting for me to join them.
He sat down with her wrapped around him like a baby koala, his eyes never leaving mine as I slowly walked toward them, and sat down right next to him. Cillian’s hand found mine, wrapping his fingers around my clammy palm, pulling our hands between his and Evelyn’s body.
