Page 90 of Brutal Obsession

I’m still jumpy. I’ve worked to keep myself distracted ever since I agreed to return to New York. Luckily, Cian’s been helping with that.

One or both of his hands have remained in contact with me every single second since my meltdown in the parking lot. Iknow he’s doing it so he can grab me if I change my mind and attempt to run, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

All through the airport—from buying our tickets at the kiosks, through security and the indoor-outdoor hallways advertising authentic Hawaiian souvenirs—Cian’s threaded his fingers through mine. Or his palm has warmed the small of my back.

When we grabbed some food, he sat beside me instead of across from me, balancing one of his hands on my thigh the whole time.

Honestly, his behavior has me so switched around, I don’t know which way is up.

Just touching Cian for an extended period of time like this would create its own effect, but the way he gazes at me amplifies the experience. When I glance up and our eyes meet, he simply stares. Openly and unabashed. No shame. If I don’t look away or move, neither will he.

If the intensity of our connection didn’t warm me up inside, I’d question whether I remained among the living. As it is, I’m trying to enjoy these moments before the panic returns.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’d like to begin the boarding process for flight 8937 to New York City. At this time, we invite…”

Cian brushes my shoulder with his giant one.

“Hmm?” I shift toward him, not realizing how close our faces are.

“That’s…” Cian’s voice trails off. The weight of his stare falls to my lips, inches from his. “Our flight’s boarding.”

We should both pull away and stand up, so why am I tempted to kiss him instead? In broad daylight, in front of all these strangers?

Cian’s the sort of man who only allows women close under the cover of night.

At least, he was. Or I guess that’s just what I always assumed.

I promise that I will never, ever let anyone hurt you like that again.

His words from earlier trip my heart up like a jump rope. Warmth blooms in my belly.

Except for the night he saved me from a rapist, I never pictured Cian as good boyfriend material. Not with his tendency to cycle through women.

Not that I’m fantasizing about the idea of Cian as my boyfriend.

My cheeks start burning, so I drop my gaze to where our intertwined fingers rest in my lap. “Okay.”

After dragging my free hand through my hair a few times, I soothe myself enough to stand.

Cian rises with me.

Ten minutes later, we settle into the cushy four-grand-a-pop, super-ultra first-class cabin. We have two seats in the very front row, right behind two spacious, fancy bathrooms and the pilots.

I’m glad he bought first-class tickets. Not just because of the eight-hour flight, but because first class means the booze will keep coming, and boy do I need a few gallons ofthat.

I can’t stop thinking about everything Cian said in the back of that Porsche.

The promises he made moved me. A three-ton boulder squatted on my chest, and Cian pushed it aside with a few sentences. Every time I glance at his perfect face, I’m struck by it all over again.

Him? Mr. Sexy over here is the one who said all that?

To me? Of all people?

I’m still dying to know how Cian could assure me with so much sincerity and so little hesitation. He’d kill my father orShane oranyonewho tries to lay a hand on me? No man has ever given me such a vow.

Certainly no one like Cian.

If I let myself stare at him too long, the wordwhyrises to my lips. But then I remember the answer he offered in the car.

---