Page 45 of Ciaran

Guilt washes over his face, and I understand why, but I’m not having that. The blame for who I chose to marry sits squarely with me. The treatment I received while in that marriage was Tanner’s cross to bear. None of what happened has anything to do with Ciaran.

I bring his palm to my face and hold it to my cheek. “It is not your fault I ended up with Tanner.”

His chin lowers to his chest. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” I say firmly. “It’s not. I didn’t know Tanner would turn into an evil, nasty little prick, so how could you? And you’re not an idiot. You’re utterly wonderful. But, God, I wish you’d told me.”

“What would you have done if I had? Because if you’re being honest, you never really noticed me. I was the invisible twin. The one who blended into the background.”

I won’t disrespect him by lying—not when he’s been truthful with me. I owe him the same honesty in return.

“You’re right. I didn’t think of you in that way. I always saw you as a friend rather than anything else. I guess we’ll never know what I would have done if you’d told me how you felt back then.”

I exhale slowly. This is a lot to take in, but at the same time, a quiver of excitement steals over me.

“I do know one thing, though. I may not have noticed you then, but I sure as hell see you now. There’s no point in looking back, wishing things had been different. They are what they are. All we can do is look to the future. I don’t know what it holds for us, Ciaran, but I really want to find out. Do you?”

He gently grazes his lip with his teeth, but his eyes burn with hunger. “Yeah,” he rasps. “I do.”

His husky tone, filled with angst and yearning, lights me up from the inside. I hold my hand up to the server, letting him know we’re ready for our food.

Although, if I’m honest, it isn’t the food on the plate I want to devour. It’s the man sitting across from me.

Chapter 18

Ciaran

We stumble out of the club, still chuckling at the last comedian on stage. I had some reservations about my choice of date, especially as some of the comics can be downright lewd—and they had been—but I needn’t have worried. Millie laughed so hard tears had poured down her face. I could listen to her laugh for years and still crave more.

“How about a quick drink before we head back?” I ask.

Millie wavers and puts her hand on my shoulder to help with her balance. “I think I may have had enough. My head is starting to spin.”

“Doesn’t have to be alcoholic.” I slip an arm around her waist, euphoria rushing through me that I can freely touch her. “I know it’s late, but I don’t want tonight to end.”

She glances up at me, then rests her head on my shoulder. My heart jolts, and my belly flips.

“Neither do I,” she whispers.

We cross the street and enter a packed bar. The thundering sound of rock music blasts through loudspeakers mounted on the walls, and I keep a tight hold of her hand as I force my way to the bar. I order a couple of sodas and weave through the crowds, finding space at the farthest point from where the band is playing.

Millie puts her arms over her head and sways in time to the music. Her eyes are closed, and a look of pure contentment is etched on her face. I can’t take my eyes off of her.

My gaze drops to her mouth to find her lips are slightly apart. I’m so busy staring, I don’t realize she’s looking at me until she reaches out, takes the drinks out of my hands, and puts them on a shelf behind her.

Hooking a finger into the waistband of my jeans, she says, “Dance with me.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice. I encircle her waist and pull her into my body, and she reciprocates by burying her fingers in my hair. Her mocha eyes shine, even in the dim lighting, and she begins to circle her hips.

Sweet baby Jesus. Every shimmy brings the lower halves of our bodies into contact with each other, and I react the same way as any other red-blooded male would when faced with a beautiful woman they’ve wanted for years rubbing against their body. Blood rushes to my groin, and my cock stiffens. A groan sounds in my throat, low and husky. Not that she’ll be able to hear me over the beat of the music, but the flare in her eyes tells me she can feel my erection pressing into her stomach.

She nestles even closer, so close that an atom wouldn’t fit in the space between us. Standing on tiptoes, she eases my head down to hers and kisses me. Not a testing-the-waters kind of kiss, but a full-on, open-mouthed, with tongues affair that sets off a surge of fireworks inside my body.

I take control, moving her until her back is flat to the wall, and I circle my hips. Her heart pounds against my chest. She must be able to feel mine, too. When my tongue touches hers, I know I’ve found home. I could do this for the rest of my life and never get tired of the feel of her mouth on mine.

“Fuck,” I pant as I draw back, but only because I need to take a breath. A second. A moment to stabilize myself. Then I’m kissing her again, harder this time. Earlier she said she saw me. Well, I want her to feel me, too. Everywhere.

She drags her mouth from mine. “Ciaran…” Her chest heaves. “God.”

---