His eyes narrowed. “Careful Ciaran, you sound jealous.”
“Look asshole, I’m not jealous. I’m repulsed by your behavior. I prefer men who are decent and respectful. They are not men who treat people trying to do their jobs like shit, or who are known for sleeping with their patients, and they are definitely not men who have the audacity to finger someone in public. You disgust me.”
A flash of perfectly white teeth blinded me. “Lying again, aren’t you? Fess up, you enjoyed what you saw. I could see it on your face. You couldn’t look away. You were watching like you wished it was you.”
“Never,” I bit out.
“Oh, wait. Let me guess. You’ve never come in a public place, have you? That stick wedged tightly up your ass won’t allow it.”
Dr. Bennett’s words struck a fragile nerve deep inside. The stick-up-my-ass reference was a verbatim repeat of Melany’s mocking ones and it sent my temper reeling. My open palm slapped hard against the side of his face. Despite being caught off guard, his head barely budged an inch but his eyes lit with rage that burned so bright I almost had to look away.
Gathering my wrists with one hand, he pulled them high over my head and locked them against the metal shelving. His other hand bunched my dress material upwards as it made its way towards my hip.
A violent shiver rocked my body as the girl I kept hidden underneath abruptly surfaced.
“Well, look at that,” Dr. Bennett whispered as he peered into my eyes. “My little journalist wants to be fucked in a crowded restaurant.”
Oh God, yes. I almost begged as we stared at each other.
His hands pulled away altogether and he took a step back. “But you’re too good for that aren’t you, Ciaran?”
Not waiting for me to respond, he turned away and headed for the door of the closet.
What the hell? My body shaking, I shot daggers at the back of his head.
I hated this man. Absolutely hated him.
He faced me again. “What did you just say?”
Holy shit. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Or maybe I had. I was so confused.
He slowly stalked back towards me. I took a step backwards and bumped back into the shelves. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said I hate you,” I yelled.
I didn’t have a chance. He was on me quicker than my next breath, his mouth stealing the air from my lungs. Leaning into my body with what felt like his entire weight he pressed a thigh in between my parted legs and against the part of me that was frantically throbbing with need.
I completely lost myself.
I rubbed shamelessly against every inch of him that I could reach; the need to get as close as possible making all the decisions for me. He responded by removing his mouth from mine and licking a line down the side of my neck as his hand pulled at the ridge of my silk underwear.
“I can feel how wet you are against my pant leg. All you need to do is admit you want me to make you come and I promise I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll be able to write an entire book about it,” he whispered, moving his thigh against me.
“Kean.” His name escaped on a wisp of a breath from somewhere deep inside my soul, giving him all the validation he needed.
Dropping to his knees, he tugged my underwear to the side and pushed his mouth against my pulsating center. His tongue, the same tongue that was capable of hurling out such harsh words swiped through my wetness and had the back of my head knocking against the shelves.
When two thick fingers stroked my walls before pressing deep inside, a groan came from his mouth but the animalistic sounds that spilled from mine drowned it out.
It had been too long. Or maybe it was how magnificent he was with his tongue. I clamped down on his fingers like a vice as bright flashes of light went off from behind my eyes.
After what seemed like hours but was only seconds, Kean removed his mouth and hands from my body and pushed up onto his feet, leaving me sagged against the shelving unit for support. The hardened expression on his face was the last thing in the world I thought I would see as he stood before me with his jaw glistening from my wetness.
Baffled by his expression, my eyes widened in question.
When he didn’t respond but just looked at me, I braced myself against the cold metal at my back. It was the frigidity coming from the front that had me trembling. I’d made a thousand different mistakes over the last week but the error that delivered the fatal blow to my armor was the assumption after what had just intimately exchanged between us was going to change the disconnection we originally had.
Using his hand, he wiped at his jaw while turning to give me his back for the second time tonight as he made to leave. Except this time, he glanced over his shoulder and tossed out parting words like I was nothing but another appointment in his busy life. “Be careful with Whitman. I meant it when I said he isn’t a good guy.”
At the sound of the door clicking shut, I closed my eyes and willed the hurt to leave me the hell alone.
Chapter Ten
Ciaran
At the most inopportune times, Kean invaded my thoughts and hijacked my mind. It didn’t matter what mundane task I was involved in, my imagination would conjure him, reminding me that his mouth had been in places it should’ve never breached. And every single time the memories triggered an automatic response from my body. My panties would become damp in seconds.
I didn’t like what was happening yet I prayed for it to keep repeating.
It had taken more than ten minutes before I was able to pull myself together and leave the maintenance room at the restaurant. When I returned to the table I found a vexed Stuart glaring at his plate, while the adjacent table where Kean and his date had been seated was empty.
I considered asking Stuart when the couple had departed, but his surly expression strongly advised against it. I silently ate my cold dinner without tasting a bite while repulsive thoughts tormented me with each forkful. Was Kean indulging his date with the same experience he had treated me to?
The uncertainty sickened me, yet I couldn’t stop squeezing my thighs together. The wet material there was cold against my skin.
Skipping dessert, I wished Stuart a quick goodnight and exited the restaurant. All I wanted was to get to the safety of my home and crawl under the covers of my bed far removed from situations I didn’t understand. I was dead set on holding myself together.
It didn’t make an ounce of difference.
My insides fell to pieces every time I remembered the repulsion on Kean’s face as he backed away from my spent body. It haunted me as much as his mouth did. And the hurt it caused was devastating.
I couldn’t escape the mental damage that came hand in hand with the pleasure. I hated him yet at the same I was obsessed with him. And I hated myself for obsessing about him. I didn’t want to crave more and feared I was already addicted from that first high.
Then there was the allegations Stuart had saddled on Kean, which I wasn’t sure I could allow myself to believe. Kean could be verbally cruel but it was the accusation that he treated women with a rough hand that seemed to lack substance. If he was dangerous then why weren’t there charges against him floating out there in the sea of information? I spent hours searching online but came up empty each time.
I needed to get over it and let it go.
I had bigger issues to deal with, such as my disaster of a rough draft. I knew my writing was spiteful and unfair. It wasn’t like me to be so melodramatic. No matter how much I disliked the man, I wasn’t a malicious person. I had to rewrite it.
My cell phone rang, the Wicked Witch of the West tune announcing Melany was on the other end. Grateful for the reprieve from my head, I answered it.
“Hello.”
“Well, it’s about time you answered your damn phone. How did you know I wasn’t lying dead in a ditch?” Her high-pitched shrieks had the same effect as nails on the chalkboard of my sanity.
“If you were dead, you wouldn’t be calling me, right?” I deadpanned.