Page 98 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“It won’t happen again.”

Cian nodded. “No one touches you. Think I made that clear.”

“I did, too,” I replied, raising my eyebrows. “He’ll be lucky if he fathers children.”

He scoffed and kissed my forehead before dropping his head back to the pillow.

I fell asleep with Cian’s hand in my hair and his heartbeat in my ear. At some point he must’ve gotten up and turned out the light, but I never noticed. When I woke up the next morning, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.

“I’m sticky,” I murmured, rolling toward him. “Where are you going?”

“Mornin’, baby,” he replied, turning. “It’s early.”

“Why are you leaving?”

Cian smiled, brushing my hair away from my face. “Need to get to work.”

“No,” I groaned, glancing at the clock.

“You need to get to work, too,” he reminded me.

“Let’s call in,” I said, wrapping my hand around his wrist. “I feel a cold coming on. I think it’s contagious.”

“Don’t work, don’t get paid,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me. “You wanna get some dinner tonight?”

“Like a date?” I asked in surprise, pulling away.

Cian laughed. “Sure, like a date.”

“We’ve never been on a date,” I pointed out.

“I’ve taken you out a bunch of times.”

“Those weren’t dates.”

“Then what the hell were they?”

“I don’t know. Just dinner.”

“You put makeup on,” he mused. “Wore those jeans that you know make me want to bite your ass—”

I let out a choked noise of amusement.

“I picked you up and I paid.”

“So?”

“You wear those jeans out with Lou and Frankie?”

“No,” I conceded. “But those still weren’t dates.”

“They were.”

“Dates end with a kiss,” I pointed out smugly. “Or banging.”

Cian let out a throaty laugh that made me grin proudly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bang you tonight,” he joked, kissing me again.

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