Page 56 of While You Sleep

I stood and paced to the window, looking for his car in the driveway, but he still wasn’t home. A knot of worry curled in my gut. What if this business he and Declan had was dangerous? What if he was hurt somewhere?

I paced the house some more, asked Conor for the tenth time if he’d heard from Cillian, then forced myself to watch some TV. I couldn’t focus. Somehow, I drifted off again on the couch. But then, no matter what was happening, I could always sleep whether I wanted to or not, my disorder meant it was out of my control. Conor eventually gave me a nudge and said I should go up to bed.

I changed into one of Cillian’s shirts, closed the door, and got into bed.

My mind raced, but I still fell back to sleep, and when I jolted awake again, it was mid-flail with a cry about to burst from my throat. The room was dark and my hand shot out to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

I hadn’t woken like that in a long time, because of Cillian, because he’d held me down until it passed. Pushing back the covers, I jumped out, my legs shaky since I’d barely given myself time to wake up. I was about to run downstairs and ask Conor if he’d heard from Cillian, when I saw light coming from under his office door. Relief rocketed through me, and I ran down the hall and pushed the door open.

Cillian looked up, surprised, as I rushed into his office. His suit jacket was off, his shirt undone at the throat, no tie, sleeves rolled up. Not a single mark on him.

“You’re okay,” I said, my legs shaky now for a different reason. I rounded his desk.

“Soph—”

Without thinking, I climbed onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tight. “I thought…when I didn’t hear from you. I thought…”

“Hey,” he said rubbing my back. “I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you answer my text? You always answer my texts.” I was trembling, and I hated that my reaction was so strong. Someone on the outside looking in might say my growing attachment to Cillian was unhealthy, that I was projecting, that I had fucked-up daddy issues and a need to be wanted that was extreme, therefore being here with him was dangerous to my mental health, and they’d probably be right—but I couldn’t lock this feeling away.

“Somehow my phone ended up on silent. I didn’t see your messages until I was almost home,” he said and tilted my head back. “I didn’t want to wake you.” He studied my face. “You’re upset.”

Now I felt like an idiot, but I refused to blush or pretend I wasn’t feeling what I was feeling. “I was worried.”

“I should have thought, but I’ve never had anyone—”

“If you tell me no one’s ever worried about you getting home late, I’ll cry. Do you want me to cry?” I wasn’t lying. Somehow, I’d grown to care for this man. I hadn’t planned it, I’d tried to fight it, I’d tried to keep hating him, but I just didn’t anymore.

He searched my face, and shook his head, then his gaze went to the Band-Aid on my elbow. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell asleep by the pool, I’m fine.”

He made a rough sound and grabbed my arm to get a better look.

I stopped him. “It’s just a graze. You’re trying to look after me again, like you did last night.”

He didn’t reply, just tucked my hair behind my ear and looked into my eyes in a way that made my breath hitch. How we came together was insane, but the head of the O’Rourke family, Seamus’s brutal monster, had been nothing but kind to me. Maybe not everyone’s definition of the word, but slowly getting to know Cillian, I knew I was right. For me, he’d ignored the cold cruelty instilled in him by his father, the neglect, and he’d treated me with care and kindness.

No one had ever asked him if he was okay, and no one had ever taken care of him like he had me last night.

He gave to the people he surrounded himself with and all he asked for in return was their loyalty.

He’d asked nothing of me.

Not one thing.

I slid off his knee and his fingers dug into my hips for a moment as if he were going to stop me from climbing off him but then changed his mind. He expected me to walk away. Instead, I lowered to my knees in front of him. Confusion filled his eyes, until I reached for his belt. He said nothing, just watched me as I slid the leather through the buckle, undoing it. I looked up at him as I undid the button of his pants. “You’ve had a long day,” I said and slowly slid down the zipper.

“I have a lot of long days,” he rumbled.

“I’ve noticed.”

He didn’t reply, just waited for what I’d do next.

He wasn’t getting it, not yet. He thought I was playing some game, that maybe I wanted him to make me feel good, that I was teasing. He’d made me feel good so many times since I came here. But I’d never just given to him, just to give him pleasure.

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