Page 111 of Carnal Wagers

I snickered, happy to have dodged another evening third-wheeling with them. It almost made this emotional rollercoaster worth it.

The newest message was from a couple of minutes ago.

Hey, just checking in. It’s been sixteen hours, and you’re starting to freak me out. You alive over there?

The aroma of gluten rising and the caramelization of sugar along the crust soothed my nerves. I texted back before she decided to go all vigilante after Cillian with a shovel and mortar bricks.

“I should probably head home after the cake is ready and leave you in peace,” I said, head buried in my phone, actively avoiding his stifling presence.

For a big man, Cillian moved faster than expected. One second, my fingers flew over the keys. The next, they typed over a void before my brain caught up with my empty hand.

He dangled my phone high above his head and buried his other hand in the back of my hair. Stony seriousness morphed his features.

“No such thing as peace, love. Did you think I wasn’t serious?”

While I wasn’t a small woman by any means, without my heels on, he still had a good head over me.

“Give it back. I outgrew these sorts of games years ago.”

“Let me make this clear, unless you didn’t understand me the first few times.” Prickles of pain ran over my skull as he tugged my head back. “You’re never leaving my side again, even if I have to tie you to the bed. Even if I have to chain you to me.”

I frowned, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. His emotions seemed to be jumping all over the place.

“I’m not a toy. If you say jump, I won’t ask how high.”

“I can’t lose you.” He nuzzled my hair and breathed me in. “I won’t.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“You. Fuck. It’s all you.”

This switch from cold aloofness to controlling clinginess was like drowning in icy water, only to come up for air and be scorched inside out within the mouth of a volcano. I wasn’t sure which one I’d rather die by, and I found myself holding my breath, expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. My heart skipped around my rib cage, pinball-style, while I internally prepared bandages to stop myself from bleeding out when he inevitably pushed me away. I’d done that all my life: got stabbed in the heart, pressed some gauze to the wound, and let it heal, only for another wound to appear.

Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment. Scar tissue layered every inch of the muscle, but I always came back for more. However, I was beginning to think that everything before Cillian was child’s play. My parents, my siblings, my exes—their rejections and condemnations hurt, but Cillian’s touch and words made hope sprout roots and vine around my brittle heart as every tender moment pumped life back into it. If he tried, he could absolutely destroy me.

“I’m tougher than I look. You’re always underestimating me.” I cleared my throat, my voice too small for my liking. “Give me my phone back before I make you.”

“Say you’ll move in, and it’s yours.”

“It’s already mine.” I avoided the first part because there was no way he actually said that.

He sucked my lower lip between his teeth and bit down. “I mean it. Move in with me.”

I scoffed and spun away. “That’s not something you joke about.”

As he caged me against the wall of cabinets, his hard shaft pressed against me from behind.

“What will it take to convince you to move in?”

I cocked my head. “You’re serious?”

He nodded, and again a flurry of butterflies took flight in my belly, but I cinched a belt tight around my insides to shove those down.

He was giving me a blank check, wrapped with a bow and an expectant look. This was my chance to move things forward, in case whatever this was spectacularly failed.

“Help me as the Toxic Fiend make five weapon sales in the States. Be my intermediary.”

From his look of shock, he probably expected me to ask for something more romantic, but if those butterflies were any indication, I needed a heavy dose of practicality before I exposed my heart to his caprices.