Page 68 of Reckless Promises

I’m taking every detail of the city in as the car drives us to the restaurant. Cillian is on his phone as he usually is. Working, stressing. But I can’t take my eyes off everything as we pass.

The bustle.

The people.

The buildings.

Every aspect is a harsh realization of how sheltered I’ve been for the past twenty-one years. Cillian has traveled the world. He’s seen so much he doesn’t even bother looking out the window when it’s all I can do.

Glancing over at Cillian, he’s still focused on his phone. The pinch that lives between his eyebrows is prominent,and I wonder what he’s worried about right now. But I don’t ask. He won’t tell me.

Or—maybe he would. But if he hasn’t already shared it, he doesn’t want to. At least, not yet.

Before marrying Cillian, I thought I had a clear picture of who he was based on the vividly painted rumors I’d heard. But the man they depicted and the man he is to me aren’t one and the same. And I don’t know if I’m his exception to the rule or if they’re wrong and he cares about people more than they realize.

Because no one has cared for me the way Cillian does. With conviction. It doesn’t matter when in my life the pain occurred, he wants me safe from it. He shields me, protects me. He might be a violent man, but his touch has only ever felt gentle.

He keeps me safe without having to ask. Protects my body and my heart.

The night he took my virginity and later showed up in our bathroom covered in blood, I didn’t have to ask whose it was. I already knew. And it didn’t scare me that my husband was willing to go to those lengths for me. If anything, I understood his loyalty more in that moment.

Cillian’s eyes dart to mine when I’ve been caught staring too long. “Everything all right?”

“Perfect.” I try to bite back my smile and fail.

He reaches for the back of my neck and pulls my face to his. “Good.”

This man’s kiss might be the end of me. It’s as intimate as sex. How he claims my mouth without apology.

Our teeth clash as he deepens the kiss, and I’m tempted to ask him to turn the car around so we can go back to the hotel room and finish what we started when we first got to Bridgeport. But something about him taking me out in public is better. He doesn’t want to hide me away like my family did. He wants me at his side.

So I resist the urge and settle for his kiss.

Cillian was my first, and now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t get enough of him. I’m desperate—needy. And thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

He made me come three times before we left for dinner—once with his hand and twice with his tongue. I swear it’s my husband’s new life mission to see if he can unravel me completely. Because he’s close to doing just that.

But once he was done, he refused to fuck me, and he wouldn’t let me reciprocate. He said my pleasure was enough for him. Except all that does is make me want to test his resolve.

Skimming my fingers down his tie, he grabs my wrist before I reach his cock.

“Nice try, wife.” He plants my hand on his leg instead.

“I want to touch you.” I groan against his mouth. “Why won’t you let me make you come?”

“Because…” He pulls back, brushing his thumb over my lips. “I’d rather please you first.”

“You did. Three times,” I remind him.

“And I told you I want more.” He grins, pulling away. “Speaking of, we’re almost at the restaurant, and I have something for you.”

“Cillian.” I narrow my eyes. “You already got me shoes.”

Before we left the hotel, Cillian gifted me black stilettos with a silver snake that winds up the heel and around my ankle.

“This isn’t for your feet.” He smirks, reaching into his pocket and trading his phone for something else. “Open your legs.”

Tentatively, I tip my knees open. Excitement rushes through me at whatever Cillian has planned. The lengths this man goes through to please me can’t be considered normal. Although, I’m not sure anything about our relationship is.

---