Page 5 of Brutal Obsession

Despite the incredible inappropriateness of that suggestion, heat pools between my legs. One night with Cian. One night to explore his naked body. To feel his mouth on me and put mine on him. To experience the weight of his body pinning me to the bed and feel him filling me up, over and over again…

My face burns. “I need to go.”

“One hour.”

“Cian Mahoney, if you don’t get away from me…”

“Five minutes.”

I pause. “What could you possibly do infive minutes?”

Seems like a legitimate question until he runs his tongue along his bottom lip because, oh crap, that’s hot.

Is that what he’s suggesting then? A kiss?

Because kissing Cian would be an epic intelligence failure on my part.

Maybe that explains my sluggish brain and why I can’t stop zooming in on his lips.

He leans into me until our foreheads press together, his skin still damp and sticky from the wine. The scent of him mixed with pinot grigio swirls up like an alcohol-laced aphrodisiac.

“Is that a yes?” he rasps.

Our mouths hover so close together that his lips brush mine as he speaks. Even that miniscule bit of contact is enough to turn my skin feverish.

It’s as if his nearness fries the logical part of my mind at its power source. I’m short circuiting. That’s the only explanation for what I say next.

“Two minutes.”

His lips crash onto mine faster than I can shut my eyes and give in.

Kissing Cian is terrible. Mainly because he’s such an amazing kisser that it turns me into a hypocrite for hating on all the women who throw themselves at him.

If I’d known that making out with him would feel this incredible, that he wouldtastethis incredible, I might have jettisoned my dignity and offered myself to him on a plate ages ago.

That’s how good his mammoth hands feel as they stroke up my ribcage, grazing the sides of my breasts. That’s how good his tongue feels as he plunders my mouth, stirring a tight warmth in my lower belly with every stroke.

As we devour each other, a strange sense of triumph surfaces. Maybe it’s because I always suspected Cian would be like this. Adonis on the outside, prowling jaguar on the inside. Or maybe that flare of victory comes from the knowledge that publicly making out with someone other than my fiancé on the eve of my wedding is the most defiance I’ve shown in my entire life.

Tonight, I’ve broken every rule I could possibly break, down to fooling around with one of the Kings’ top enforcers. I’m almost proud of this wild detour my night has taken, but when the phone at my hip buzzes, I remember who I am, and why I need to stop kissing Ciannow.

When he groans against my lips and yanks me closer, pressing every inch of his erection into my belly, I realize I don’t know how to stop.

It’s not until his hot palm brushes over the bare skin of my stomach that my eyes startle open, the trance breaks, and I’m able to extract my lips from his.

In this moment, I know I’ll remember the sensation of his hand on my belly, branding me forever.

Kissing Cian is hot yet bittersweet.

It’s like kissing the Kings goodbye.

Panting hard, we stare each other down.

Cian, the prince of poker faces, usually hides beneath an arrogant mask. Not now.

Now, lightning crackles in his eyes, and his hungry expression reveals everything in the electric silence.

Even though it would betray his best friend—and the rules of the family—Cian Mahoney wants medesperately.

---