Page 106 of By His Play

“Please, Luck. Let me look after you.”

A fire ignites inside me and I surge to my feet.

“I think you did more than enough of that last night, don’t you?” I snap, placing my hand on my hips and glaring at him.

His lips press into a thin line as his eyes narrow.

“Are you serious? All I’ve done since I got here is try to help. Sure, I’m not perfect, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m trying my best. Last night…last night…”

Ripping his eyes from mine, he stares up at the clear blue sky as he tries to find his words.

The air crackles between us, and my skin prickles as I wait for what he’s going to say next.

Finally, he lowers his face and his eyes find mine. His expression has softened, and it makes my stomach knot.

I preferred the anger. I could deal with the anger. I could meet it head on and give as good as I got.

The softness, the compassion…

“You were drowning, Effie. I either let you drink that entire bottle of vodka or...so, I did something. Was it the best option? I don’t know. But it worked. For those few hours, you forgot. For the first time in…a while, I saw you, Effie. I saw your colors. Hell,” he laughs, rubbing his jaw, “you were in fucking technicolor. It was?—”

Surging forward, I reach up and press my fingers to his lips.

“Don’t,” I warn, my face heating. The only saving grace is that he won’t be able to see it with the sunburn.

His mouth opens, but thankfully, no words emerge.

Instead, he wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs my hand away from his face.

“Come on, you need moisturizer.”

With my hand locked in his, he drags me up the yard and into the house.

The second we step inside and into the cool, I realize just how bad things are.

He doesn’t stop until we’re in the living room, and then he turns around, staring down at me. His bright green eyes are darker than I’m used to. They’re…they’re like they were last night as he gazed down at me.

“Sit down,” he demands before rushing out of the room, leaving me sitting there with my head spinning.

He crashes around in the bathroom for a few minutes before his heavy footsteps get closer.

Coming to a stop before me, he lowers his ass to the coffee table and flips open the tub of Aftersun.

“Oh no, no, no,” I start, attempting to get away from him, but he’s having none of it.

Reaching down, he wraps his hand around my ankle and lifts it to his lap.

“Kieran, really. I can do this myself,” I argue, trying to pull my leg away, but he’s holding me too tightly.

“Luck,” he growls before lifting his eyes from my leg and holding mine captive. I feel it all the way to my core. “I thought you were my good girl.”

26

KIERAN

“Don’t do that,” Effie warns.

She doesn’t mean it.

---