Page 70 of Brutal Obsession

I don’t want to tell him.

“Does it matter?” The teenage petulance in my voice embarrasses me to the point that I want to curl up and die.

“It matters.”

The sincerity of Cian’s assertion surprises me.

I almost wish I could see his face.

“Why?” I know I’ll regret asking this question as I comb a strand of wet hair off my face.

“Because you’ve been on my mind nonstop since that night in the bar.”

I know he’s not flattering me, so why am I flattered? So what if I’ve starred in a few of his wet dreams or whatever? Who cares?

I try to make my voice haughty even while my heart flutters. “So I turned down your invitation to fuck. That doesn’t explain any?—”

The curtain rod squeals, and the fabric shoves to one side. I cringe against the cold tile as Cian pushes under the water, into my space, his hulking body eclipsing me.

“You’re such a spoiled brat,” he snarls, his hands coming up to grip my arms, squeezing them as he shakes me just a little. “I was worried about you. I drove myself crazy hunting you down.”

I swallow, my mouth dry even as the rest of me drowns.

Cian worried? Aboutme?

My internal organs somersault as I struggle to wrap my head around that idea.

“So crazy,” he continues, still squeezing my arms, oblivious to my plight, “that I wasn’t even going to come after you when we finally figured out where you were. I didn’t trust myself not to let it get personal.”

I gaze up at him as water soaks his clothes and curls his already-curly hair. Is this really Cian Mahoney staring back at me with that bitter, pained twist to his mouth?

After a minute, I find words again. “What changed your mind?”

“What?”

“I mean, why did you come get me if you didn’t want to?”

His eyes flicker a little, something flashing in them that I don’t quite recognize, and then he pulls away like he’s finally noticed his clothes are sopping wet. I don’t realize I’m waiting for some grand, emotional explanation until he says, “Didn’t have a choice. No one defies Shane.”

His hot gaze skates quickly over my breasts before his jaw tenses and he ducks back out of the shower, closing the curtain behind him.

The disappointment deflating my chesthurts.

I shove my palms against my eyes and breathe deeply. “Well, how did the De Lucas know I was in Hawaii?”

“No idea. We thought they’d kidnapped you. When we went to rescue Finn after the De Lucas got him, Enzo told us that he had you.” Cian’s words spike my heart rate even more. “No one knew where you were, and the De Lucas were after Finn and his new bride, so it seemed possible, likely even, that they’d abducted you.”

Cian thought I was in enemy clutches all this time?

And he was worried?

The shockwaves of Cian’s admissions rock me to my core. I’m perilously close to believing the most dangerous lie I’ve ever encountered. The one that claims Cian Mahoney, deadly enforcer and playboy extraordinaire, might care for me.

This is all too much.

Because if Cian cares about me, then…

Every sexual thing we’ve done to each other in the past twenty-four hours is?—

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