Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,10

the line of muscle beneath her ear, clamped down near her collarbone, and he sucked until his name escaped her lips. His name on Lyse’s lips. He needed to hear his name.

“Fionn…”

Lyse. He had his mouth on Lyse.

Awareness jolted him, and he bit down harder than he meant to.

“Fionn!”

What the feck was he doin’? Tearing himself away, he used both hands to shove Lyse’s chair back. It clattered across the tiles as he knelt, fists pressed to his closed eyes, cursing himself and her and the throbbing of his goddamn dick until her scream registered.

She was falling.

He caught the edge of the chair and righted it before she hit the ground. Then he was across the room, away from her scent and the seductive draw of her skin. What he couldn’t escape was the shock in her eyes, the flush of need on her skin. The red line of bites down her neck. He’d put those there. On Lyse, the woman who’d tried to kill him. The woman whose betrayal had torn him apart for months.

The woman who was threatening his mam’s safety.

What kind of fecked-up man was he now?

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Lyse, I—”

A rapid series of knocks sounded on the door, followed by a deep voice. “Lyse, you al’right? I’m after bringing you some soup, love.”

Shit. Neighbor Boy was back.

Chapter Five

She’d known he’d be angry. She’d also known he’d taste good. She’s been right about both.

For a moment Fionn had forgotten the anger. Or maybe he hadn’t; maybe he’d simply found a new way to torture her. Except she’d been the one to kiss him. At the time she’d figured she had nothing to lose—Fionn had looked like he was ready to kill her; why not have the one thing she so desperately wanted before she died?

At least her life wouldn’t end without a kiss.

Another knock rumbled the door. “Lyse?”

Sean would come in if she didn’t answer. Harry, their landlord, had an extra key. She glanced at Fionn. Would he hurt them?

No, she didn’t think so. He was only here to hurt her.

Green eyes still smoky with lust met hers. Before the memory of his touch could drown her again, she mouthed, Let me answer.

His eyes narrowed on her.

Please.

He stalked toward her, reaching for something on his belt. Her heartbeat tripped over itself when he flicked open a folding knife. Time slowed as he bent over her, his hands moving to her bound wrists, his mouth brushing her ear. “Play this right and no one gets hurt.”

Resentment spiked. The people she cared about had been threatened before, by Mansa. Do what we tell you and your Irishman will stay alive just as we promised. Look what agreeing to that bargain had gotten her.

But she would agree, one hundred percent. Anything to keep Sean out of this mess.

She squeezed her eyes shut as Fionn’s body brushed against hers, his warmth caressing her. The man had a knife, for goodness’ sake. Why was she struggling not to arch closer?

“I’ll be careful,” she whispered.

The zip ties yielded to his blade. When he sat back, the look in his eyes said her reassurance wasn’t worth trusting any more than the person who’d uttered it, but he released her legs anyway. A flick of the knife urged her toward the door. She tugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the couch as she crossed the room, not wanting Sean to be suspicious. Fionn positioned himself behind the solid slab of wood, the tip of his blade gleaming in the low light of a nearby lamp.

She gulped in a breath and opened the door.

Sean stared down at her, concern pinching his brow. A square container waited in his hand. “There she is. I was beginning to think you’d gone to bed and weren’t wanting me to see your panties,” he teased.

Despite the strain buzzing through her body, she chuckled. Trust Sean to lighten moods he wasn’t even aware of. “I think you have more experience with boxers than panties.”

He laughed. “Sure I do.” The concern returned to his eyes. “You’re not looking all right.”

“No.” She gave him a tired smile. “Definitely coming down with something.”

Sean stepped forward. “Let’s get you settled then.”

She put up a hand. Under no circumstances could she let him into the apartment. “And get you and your man sick? No way.”

“I never get sick. I’m disgustingly healthy, Cathal says.”

Of course he was. All the men in her life seemed to have superhuman genes. They really should