Page 74 of Dirty Eoin

His fingers drift from my arm to my shoulder, unexpectedly hard and calloused. His hand then lingers against my throat before wrapping around it.

Perfect fit.

His fingers feel like they belong there, holding me in place, acting like some sort of possessive collar. He uses his thumb to tilt my chin up, so I have no option but to look at him.

Green on green.

I don’t want to know what the trigger is this time. Hopefully not anger. Given his hand placement and after what I witnessed at the docks, I’m fully aware one squeeze could end my life. That if he had reason to, he wouldn’t hesitate, wife or not.

“Why did you kiss me, Jaine?” His eyes search mine.

Watching. Waiting. Expecting.

Demanding.

“Father O’Reilly asked us to.” It’s partially true, but I’m still aware my answer lacks any real conviction, leaving it sounding pathetic and weak.

His eyes drop to my mouth. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

I swallow thickly. His hand will be able to feel it. It will also be able to tell just how fast my heart’s fucking beating.

“Because I wanted to know.” I change my response to the truth.

“Know what?”

“If it was something or nothing.”

“And which was it? Remember. Don’t lie.”

“Something.” It’s barely a whisper.

There’s no point in denying it. We both felt it at the church. Then again at the docks.

I should grab his hand. Pull it off. Push him away. Run for my life, but I don’t.

Because he knows exactly what I want. He knows exactly why I’m not running. He knows I want more.

Way more.

I lied to Jessie. My brain isn’t in control. My body is.

And I hate it.

“Do you want me to kiss you again, Jaine?”

“No,” I answer quickly. Too quickly. He growls in frustration; he knows I’m lying. The low, animalistic sound is like a fucking aphrodisiac. Maybe I need to lie some more because it’s making me wet. Weak. Wanting.

His fingers tighten around my throat. I’m testing his patience.

I close my eyes and swallow thickly once more.

“Yes.” I keep my eyes closed. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see his smug expression or what’s lurking in the dangerous depths of those green eyes of his.

He walks me backward until my ass is pressed against the edge of the basin so there’s no escape. My hands clutch the edge of its surface so hard my knuckles must be white.

When his breath mingles with mine, I let out an audible sigh.

Lust. Desire.

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