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The overly excited fans did something to Cian. They flipped a switch, and now his protective urges are cranked up. And…oh…oh my gosh. I think I’m enjoying this.
My heart is in my throat as his fingers cage my jaw. He sweeps one thumb over my bottom lip, and it puts crazy images into my head. What else do I want him to rub against my lips…?
“Cian. I do believe you’re jealous.”
The growl from deep in his chest wets my panties. My breath shallows, my chest heaving.
“The ‘I love yous’ put me over the edge, Sparkles.”
The affectionate term is new to me and reminds me of the night we first kissed. He’d said I was the sparkle and shine.
“I don’t have to tell you that was just acting. Just playing to the crowd. Gotta keep the fans happy.”
Cian rakes one hand through his hair, making him look unkempt and even more ferocious. “I know…I know it in my head,” he grits out. “But I wanted to fight him.”
Is it stupid and unevolved to like watching men fight because one of them was rude to me or got too close? Because I fucking love it.
“Take it out on me then.”
He freezes. His eyes go dark, and his nostrils flare. He knows exactly what I mean.
With another growl, Cian lowers his mouth to mine in a fierce kiss, all tongue and teeth. He’s got me backed tight against the wall, but all I feel is his mouth, hands, and grown-ass body. It’s the wildest kiss. A bruising kiss. The kiss of a jealous, irrational lover makes my nipples strain against the tape holding everything in place. Cian tastes like coffee and mint and a touch of bourbon. He tastes like a comfortable escape from the world.
Cianismy comfortable escape from the world. I want to take him home to L.A. and keep him by my side forever.
The man is rough and ready, his length jutting into my hip. I want it, and I’m going to have it. It’s a heady feeling knowing this is happening sooner rather than later.
His hands release my face, dragging down the nape of my neck and lower until he’s on my hips. He fists my dress on either side like he wants to be rid of it.
I want that, too.
I could take him now. In the elevator. I could press a button, and we could steal a few extra minutes. I could take him in my mouth and make him come hard and fast…and I would swallow every drop.
But…there are cameras. My publicist would fire me instead of the reverse.
My lips ache when he finally pulls back from the kiss. “Serenity.”
“Say that again,” I say. “Just like that.”
He gives a half smile and repeats my name, sliding wet, open-mouth kisses down my throat and lower, dangerously close to my breastbone. “Serenity.”
My arms are wrapped around his shoulders, and my fingers curl against the fabric of his jacket.
“Cian.” I arch my back off the wall and press my breasts into his face.
His growl vibrates against my sternum. Do I dare? Too late, he’s already tugging the draping fabric aside and cupping one breast in his meaty hand.
“What are you wearing? What is this?” Cian rasps.
“N-nipple tape,” I stammer as he runs his fingers over it.
I can’t imagine it’s the sexiest look I’m sporting right now, but Cian is fascinated. His body might be blocking the camera in the far corner, but soon enough, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
Without another word, he shoves the material back where it belongs over my breast and hooks one arm around my waist. An older couple gawks at us as Cian sweeps me out of the elevator and down the hall, giving the couple a quick and polite “Evening.”
I’m crawling out of my skin as I watch him fumble with his room key.
Once inside, I don’t know who tackles whom to the bed. All I know is Cian is over me, hitching my dress up.
