Page 38 of Fearless

He moves so suddenly I don’t even have time to yell. Grabbing my face between his two big hands, he slams our lips together and demands entry.

Which is exactly what I wanted, obviously. Which is why I don’t fight him. But that doesn’t explain why my entire body suddenly feels like someone just threw a toaster into my bathwater.

With me still inside.

His hand slides down my face until his fingers wrap around my throat. He pushes me into the bed, but somehow doesn’t strangle me.

Yes! I did it! I’m seducing him!

But victory pales in comparison to the feel of his rough stubble and his smooth lips. His kiss deepens, becomes even more demanding.

I moan into his mouth, and fuck knows why. Theatrics, I guess.

Explain to me why you consider this an act, Meisie? Can you not feel how your body reacts to him?

Oh my God, Doctor Patricia fucking Lundy, PH. D. Get the hell out of my head!

The mattress sinks down beside my hip as Cillian climbs onto the bed, our lips not breaking contact for even a second.

He straddles me, grabs the hem of my dress, and slowly pulls it up my legs. That should have terrified me, but instead I kiss him even harder than before.

Cillian lets out a surprised sound and rears back from me.

When I try to follow, my restraints jerk me back with a soft clink.

Fuck. I forgot about them.

We stare at each, both breathing hard. Before I can make a sound, he grabs the front of my dress and tugs it down to my ribs, baring my breasts. He ducks down, working hungry kisses down my breastbone until he reaches one of my nipples.

They’re already tight little buds, but when he draws one into his mouth and sucks, they harden even more. I gasp as my back arches from the bed, urging more of my breast into his mouth.

I’m dimly aware that this is not even close to what I’d intended, but I can’t even remember what my plan had been. To kiss him? To make him think I might open my legs for him?

Oh my God, my legs arealreadyopen. He’s gone and wedged himself between my thighs and I didn’t even realize.

Also, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that you haven’t had an anxiety attack yet. Do you feel you’re making some progress working with your PTSD, Meisie?

Well slap my ass and call me Sally. I think you’re onto something, Trish!

But as soon as Cillian’s hand slides behind my back and he touches my zipper, my body goes stiff.

No. No! I told him—

As if he doesn’t realize anything’s changed, he slides his other hand between my legs and strokes me through my underwear.

I don’t know who realizes it first—him or me—but when he discovers how wet I am, he lets out a low growl.

Maybe the little bunny rabbit in me suddenly comes alive, I don’t know. But one second all I want is for him to yank off those wet panties and do what he’s been threatening since he coerced me onto his lap at club Asylum, the next a panicked, “Peaches!” bursts out of me.

He sits up in a rush, blinking at me like he’s just woken up.

And fuck, I don’t blame him. My mind’s still reeling from the feel of his lips, his hands, his mouth.

“Peaches,” he replies slowly.

I squirm under him, dropping my eyes when I realize my tits are still out. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “It’s just—”

But he doesn’t seem to want to hear me out. I cut off when he yanks open my restraints. He climbs off the bed without a backward glance as I try and urge the dress back up my chest.

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