Page 19 of Destroy Me
Grasping the strap, he repeated the cutting once more. As he dropped his hands, the backs of one set of knuckles brushed Lyse’s rigid nipple.
Lyse gasped, the sound shattering the silence like a rock through glass. Her back arched, pushing herself harder against his hands. No doubt it was instinct, but he couldn’t resist. An instinct of his own had his hand turning, the palm flattening on the plump curve of her tit.
So soft. So round.
Lyse whimpered. He caught a glimpse of white teeth biting into her lip, hard enough to be drawing blood.
“Lyse?”
Without thought his thumb swept up to circle the hard nub. Lyse’s head fell back on her shoulders, her mouth opening, arching herself harder against the touch. Begging for more. Such beautiful, innocent pleasure.
But she’s not innocent, is she?
He pinched her nipple at the thought, then again when her hand came up to grab his bicep, her fingernails digging deep. She turned her head, and her gaze latched on to his mouth. He knew exactly what she was wanting.
She licked her lips. He leaned closer, close enough to taste her breath on his tongue.
“No!” The grip on his arm stopped pulling him closer and pushed instead. Fionn stopped dead.
Glistening eyes met his. “Don’t.” Lyse sucked in a ragged breath. “If you don’t mean it, then don’t.”
Mean what? That he wanted her? His body had desired hers for far too long, but that was all this was. Except, looking into her eyes, he couldn’t help remembering Deacon’s words.She’s in love with you.
He jerked back as if her skin had burned him. The sheen of tears caught his eye before Lyse tucked her chin, hiding from him. He couldn’t identify the ache in his chest, and he didn’t want to. Instead he circled to his side of the bed, turned off the light, and lay down, but he didn’t think he’d sleep.
He didn’t deserve to.
Don’t hurt her.
As much as he believed she was guilty and deserved punishment, Fionn thought he had indeed hurt Lyse. What kind of man did that make him?
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Nine
Lyse stretched her cramped muscles, rolled over, and snuggled back under the covers like she normally did, on the side she preferred. Facing Fionn like she hadn’t been able to last night because of her hand being cuffed.
Facing Fionn.
Her eyelids shot open.
The pillow directly in front of her held the imprint of his head, but the covers were thrown back and, when she touched it, the mattress was cold. Fionn was gone.
She guessed she should be grateful he’d uncuffed her before he left.
A shudder went through her as she stared at the spot where he’d lain beside her all night. She’d held herself very still as Fionn had settled into sleep, not wanting to risk his attention, unsure she’d be able to tell him no a second time. Her first kiss and a man’s hand on her breast all in the same night. She should be celebrating, but even as good as Fionn’s touch had felt—like a dream come true but far, far hotter—it had also felt wrong. She’d been a convenient female body to him, and she’d rather not have him at all than to have him not care.
Obviously she wasn’t the casual-sex type.
You wouldn’t still be a virgin if you were.
Sitting up, she scooted to the edge of the bed, pushing the thick fall of her hair out of her eyes. She would have to face him today, after what they had done. Or rather, what he had done. If she regretted anything, it was that—not getting to touch him too. But she wouldn’t get that chance, not again. Fionn was a lot of things, but not a rapist. She’d told him no; she knew he wouldn’t touch her again. And something inside her mourned his loss all over again.
Slipping quietly from their room, she made it to the bathroom without running into anyone. Cool water helped her wake up, and she used her fingers to comb her hair back and tie it into a sloppy knot at the back of her head. There was nothing she could do about her lack of a bra, but she straightened the rest of her clothes, retrieved her glasses from her bedside table, and made her way to the kitchen.
Siobhan stood at the stove, turning bacon. The scent of coffee and frying pork filled the air, and Lyse’s stomach growled. She’d never gotten her chicken soup last night.
Siobhan glanced up at her as she entered. “Morning, dear.”
