Page 40 of Crimson Tears

To be honest, I think I’m more of an exhibitionist than I realized. First Cillian and nowthis. I make my way to the bathroom, hoping like hell I can clean up enough to be able toenjoy the last act. I can’t keep the smile off of my face as I lock the door and pull up my dress.

Thankfully, it appears my chair took the brunt of my arousal. It takes me a few minutes, and the voices outside the stall grow more distant as everyone files back into the theater. With one last check, I feel confident enough to push open the stall door before moving to wash my hands.

Looking in the mirror, I almost laugh at myself. My hair is falling from the bun I had it in and my makeup is smeared. But I look happy, even if something feels like it’s missing.

Bracing my hands on the sink, I take a deep breath and prepare myself to walk back out there. If no one noticed the small wet spot on my dress, there is a lot of other evidence to the fact that I just had a very powerful orgasm written all over my face.

I turn to grab a towel to dry my hands when a figure moves in the corner, startling me and making me reach for the knife between my breasts.

One second I’m looking in the mirror at my freshly fucked appearance, the next I’m being pushed against the counter as I hold a very sharp blade to Cillian’s throat.

My breathing kicks up, my head swirling with a thousand questions when he finally speaks.

“You just love to tease a man. Don’t you, Sweetheart?”

My brows pinch, but the second I realize what he means, I nearly drop my hold on the damn knife.

“What the fuck, Killer?”

My face is red, adrenaline sky high as I look into the eyes of the man I once thought was the love of my life. Now, all I see is a rabid creature. One who looks hungry for more than my flesh and blood. This monster looks like he wants to consume my very soul.

Has this always been him, or is this one of the things that changed when we were forced to part ways?

I find myself asking that question almost daily, but the interesting part is that no matter the answer, the current me still finds him every bit as attractive and adoring as the old me did.

Maybe even more so now that his crazy can match my thirst for blood.

His fingers reach out as I move to set the knife down on the counter, my hand hovering over it in case he gets any funny ideas. Which is a joke, all he has are horribly funny ideas. Ones that my body craves just as much as it wants to run away from them.

“You look good right after you come.”

Those fingers trace my cheek the same way Boris’ does, and I slap his hand away.

“Get out of the women’s restroom,” I say, my face twisting in rage for god only knows what reason.

All I know is I’m hot all over and his presence isn’t helping. He risks my wrath, shaking his head as he leans in further. His lips catch my attention, and when he licks them, I get a glimpse of something I didn’t notice before.

“You have a tongue piercing?” I blurt out.

Because apparently that is the appropriate question to ask when you’re being bent backward over a counter by a man who is very muchnot your boyfriend, while saidvery dangerous retired mafia don boyfriendis right outside the door.

He chuckles. “Sure do.”

His tongue darts out again, this time curling in a way that has my belly flipping.

“I bet I could make you come so much harder with it than he can.”

That comment snaps me back to reality right as the door to the bathroom creaks open, and we both freeze as Boris steps inside.A myriad of emotions flit across his face. Confusion, anger, sadness, but then, something I don't quite know how to interpret settles across his features.

My hands are still on Cillian’s chest and he is pressed up against me, caging me into the counter.

“What do you think, Old Man?” Cillian nods to Boris as if he expected him to come in.

“You think you could make her come harder than I did?”

Boris’ eyes never leave mine as he folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other in a move that is both casual and sexy. Almost the same way he does during a business deal when he believes he has the upper hand. This is either going to end badly, or very badly.

“Prove it, Kid.”

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