Page 35 of Crimson Tears

Either way, it has made today easier somehow to know we will be making a move soon. Cillian seems more relaxed, and Nessa does not appear as flustered as when he first arrived. As much as she tried to reassure me that he was of no threat to us, I could see she did it just as much for herself too, but not now.

I look in the foyer mirror, tying my tie again to make sure it is straight but get frustrated when it still feels off. When I hear the click of heels heading down the stairs, I turn, only to lose all thought beyond the woman in front of me as she floats down the steps like the striking goddess she is.

Soft, elegant fabric highlights every inch of her beautiful frame, shimmering in the light as she makes her way down the stairs. My mouth is most likely hanging open, but all I can seem to focus on is her. The smile she flashes me when my eyes finally reach her face is breathtaking, and I drink in my stunning Irish princess. Her blood-red hair is fashioned into a low bun at the base of her neck. I have the sudden urge to wrap my hands around it and tug, hard.

No, that will be for later.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare all night?” she asks me, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Perhaps,” I confess, my eyes still unable to leave her.

“Stop it.” Nessa swats at me with her hand and I finally blink. “You’re freaking me out a bit.”

“You nearly gave yer oul fella a heart attack,” Cillian says from behind me, startling us both.

It was not said in a rude manner though, more humorous. Every time his Irish accent comes out, it makes me want to chuckle. He walks up to me while watching Nessa, then leans in and takes my tie in his hands, adjusting the knot.

When he releases me, I double check it in the mirror. To my surprise, it’s perfect.

“Thank you,” I say as I hold my arm out for Nessa.

It is clear neither of us know how to respond to that. While he has grown on me a bit this past week, I still do not know how to act around him at times.

“You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” Cillian traces a finger down her cheek, much like I normally do. For once, I do not find his presence threatening. With her, he is always soft and gentle.

Nessa takes my arm and that blush creeps even further, making me grin. This girl is not one to seek attention, but when she receives it, she glows brighter than a flame.

“Thank you,” she says, grabbing her purse from the table in the center of the entryway. “Shall we?”

“Of course.” We step to the door together, but I pause and turn to Cillian. “Our chef, Kevin, said he will make you anything you wish tonight.”

It is not a big offer, but I want him to know I do not forget about my company while I have my girl on my arm.

“Oh, I have a feeling that what I want isn’t on the menu.”

He shrugs and turns, walking away before either of us has the chance to process what he said. In fact, I’m not sure I am processing it. Or maybe I simply do not want to.

Instead of saying anything, Nessa pulls me out the front door. I had my favorite car brought around. It is a heavily modified Lamborghini Huracan that is as red as my girl’s hair. Nessa parts her legs to step in, flashing me her very thin and very see through panties.

My jaw tenses as I force myself to swallow and not haul her out of this car and take what I want on the hood of it. We did that nearly a month ago and it hardly settled the craving in me to have her on every surface imaginable.

Just in case, I was sure to bring her to the garage and try it out on every car we own.

Taking a deep breath, I close the door. Nessa watches me with great satisfaction, knowing exactly where my thoughts wandered. As I get into the driver’s seat, I realize I must have miscalculated her thoughts. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breaths coming in almost a pant.

Ghosting my fingers over her dress, I slide them up the slit that ends only an inch from her core. She inhales sharply as I get close, and then I pull away to shift the car into gear.

“Tease,” she mocks me.

“You’re one to talk,” I say as I glance over at her. The blush has fully taken over her face, making every inch nearly as red as her hair. I adore it.

As we drive, our fingers stay intertwined. She is so full of anticipation about the ballet, I can tell she has forgotten we are going to dinner first. Her head tilts to the side when we arrive at a restaurant which is only a short walk from the theater.

“Happy Birthday,” I say, bringing her hand to my lips and kissing it softly.

“Thank you.” She tightens her hold on me and brings my hand to her lap. Not in a tempting way, but one that shows me she is seeking comfort.

“Are you nervous?”

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