Page 64 of Destroy Me
“I’m letting you go, Lyse.” Another thrust, another cry as his cock sent a shaft of pleasure through her body. “I’m not taking you back to the States with me. I won’t let them hurt you. Tomorrow, after this is all over, I’m letting you go.”
“Fionn, you can’t—”
“Shh.” He picked up the pace, put all his force behind his hips, driving into her again and again until Lyse’s protests were lost in the need for orgasm. He pushed her over the edge with the press of a finger on her clit, then finally,finallygave himself the gift of oblivion.
Chapter Thirty
He’d almost killed her last night. Not with the sex, though that had torn her apart in ways she hadn’t known were possible. It was him telling her he’d let her go when this was all over. That had been too much.
And yet she hadn’t answered. The future she had hoped for, the one she’d fantasized about all those years ago—that would never happen, not now. Not after what she’d done. Ironic that the thing she’d hoped would save him would now be what pulled them apart. If she went back to the States, Global First would prosecute her. There was no avoiding that. But if she continued running, she’d never stop.
And the slim chance that she could have some kind of future with Fionn? That would be gone forever.
This morning he’d greeted her with hot coffee. Already dressed, he’d gone into soldier mode, where she couldn’t reach him. The silence as she dressed and ate hadn’t been oppressive, though. More like…resigned.
It definitely wasn’t where she wanted to be emotionally on their last day together, but the weight of the future sat on her stomach like a boulder. From the fact that Fionn didn’t eat much either, she knew he felt the same.
The drive out to the estate was as beautiful as anywhere else in Ireland. Even the motorways—interstates in the US—were lined with lush views, but deep in the country— She’d never realized there were so many shades of green in existence. The beauty carried through smaller and smaller villages and narrow roads cutting through the forest until they reached a gated lane leading into what seemed like nowhere but more woods. Fionn got out, retrieved a bolt cutter from the trunk, and made quick work of cutting the chain locking the gate. A few minutes and they were through, traveling down a tunnel of trees toward…something.
And then the trees opened up and a house appeared in the distance. “It’s gorgeous.” Lyse rolled down her window, letting in the air. The hush that greeted her was the kind you sensed when nature overwhelmed you, overpowered you. The rush against her face was fresh, cold, clean. Leaves and grass rustled in their wake. And then the trees opened and a three-story manor came more clearly into view.
“Oh, Fionn.” Traditional stone, the building held more charm than elegance, the kind of place meant to be a home rather than a museum. The perfect home for Siobhan. Whatever Robert’s faults, the man had obviously known his wife well.
Fionn parked the car in the front drive, turned the key, and stared up at the symmetric gray stone, the windows in neat row after row. His expression was unreadable, but her heart knew pain when she sensed it. She dared to reach for him but didn’t speak. The man was seeing his father’s future, the one cut off so abruptly, for the first time; she let the warmth of her hand on his arm say what no words could communicate.
After a long minute Fionn looked her way. Tears shone in his eyes, the green luminescent in the shadowed car. “Even after all this time, all he did, the way he tore us apart, I miss him so fecking much.”
She leaned hard into his shoulder, wishing she could take away the hurt. “He was your father. Of course you do.” No one ever said family was uncomplicated.
The muscle in his jaw clenched. “All this could’ve been theirs. My mam—” A shake of his head cut off the words. Lyse waited while he breathed deep, forced himself back under control. Finally a firm kiss landed on her head. “Let’s be goin’, yeah?” he said huskily.
The front of the manor had the same flat face as most of the places she’d visited while occasionally doing the tourist thing around Ireland. Small stone casements jetted out above the windows that marched like soldiers along the facade, and a shallow set of steps led to the double doors that waited at the top. If Lyse had to guess by the overgrowth of the landscaping and the encroaching woods, the place had been closed up since Robert’s death. Like the lost dreams Siobhan had shared with her husband, this place would be confiscated by the authorities, sold off; the family that was supposed to live here would never know the comfort of the strong walls around them.
Such a tragic fucking waste.Judging by the tense set of Fionn’s shoulders as they went up the stairs, he was thinking something similar.
After trying the doorknob—locked—Fionn dropped to his knees and pulled a pouch from the pocket of his fatigues.
“Lock picking?” she teased, wanting to lighten the mood, ease Fionn’s burden. “I had no idea that was a hidden talent of yours.”
His grin with half-hearted, but she could tell he was trying. “There’s very little I can’t unlock, open, plunder. I especially enjoy plundering.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and satisfaction seeped into his gaze when she laughed.
“I just bet you do.”
The lock clicked open. Fionn stood, threw a reassuring glance her way, then opened the door. Stale, musty air greeted them. Fionn passed her a flashlight, then flicked on one of his own, using it to illuminate the darkened front hall. Gesturing her forward, he said, “Ladies first.”
“No way.” Sweeping her light up his body, she grinned. “That height was meant for only one thing: taking down any potential spiderwebs we run into—or you do. As long as I don’t, I don’t care.”
Shaking his head, Fionn went first.
From the look of the dated furniture and the unfamiliar portraits on the walls, Lyse guessed that Robert had inherited everything from the previous owners. Probably waiting for Siobhan to put her personal stamp on the place. She looked at Fionn’s back. “Where should we start?”
With a methodical sweep, apparently. She shouldn’t even have needed to ask. “I came so we could split up the searching duties, you know,” she said as she followed him through the first-floor rooms.
“And let you be wanderin’ around an unfamiliar place, unprotected?” He threw an arrogant look over his shoulder—one brow raised, stern look in his eyes, mouth almost a smirk. “That was never gonna happen.”
She grinned at the American phrasing ince his back was turned. He’d sounded just like Deacon there for a moment, despite the accent. “At least tell me what to look for.”
“Locked rooms. Hidden passages. A big chest.”
