Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,35
her anger ratcheted up even more. “It’s not like you haven’t fucked plenty of women you had no desire to commit to. That brunette the other night didn’t want you to marry her, did she?”
Her eyes went wide; she hadn’t meant to say that.
“How the hell do you know about that?”
His voice had gone deadly soft, and Lyse hesitated, turned her head away from his. He was across the room instantly, her jaw in his fist, forcing her to look at him, to meet his eyes and face his demand for the truth.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. When he tightened his fingers the slightest bit, a whimper escaped her. He ignored it.
“Have you been watching me?”
She shook her head as far as his grip would allow her. “There are no cameras in your house, Fionn.”
That wasn’t what he’d asked. “Then how do you know anything about my sex life?”
She didn’t answer.
He wasn’t above using his body to intimidate; he loomed over her, letting her feel his power. He would have his answers whether she wanted to give them or not. “How. Do you. Know?”
“I-I saw you. At the bar. Milligan’s. A couple of nights ago with the brunette.”
Shit. “How?”
“CCTV.”
She’d been watching him that night. He remembered clearly—the woman between his legs, his fingers inside her. Except it hadn’t been the woman he was with that he’d wanted.
The knowledge tightened his stomach into a knot.
“You’ve been watching me on CCTV? For how long?”
Lyse shrugged, the movement abrupt. Anything but casual. She knew she was in trouble. “I’ve watched the whole team.”
“Have sex?”
The shrug came again as Lyse dropped her focus to the side despite his grip. “None of them have sex in public.”
The words hit him like a blow. Lyse flinched back as curses flew from his mouth. Only when she cried out did he realize how tight his grip on her had gotten. He dropped his hand and surged to his feet. He had to get away from her, had to get himself under control.
He slammed both fists down on the dresser top. “You had no right!”
The wood shuddered beneath another slam, echoing the feeling in his chest. He’d known she’d betrayed him. Known that everything about her was a lie. He’d even known she had the ability to be doing anything with a computer, including tracking each and every one of her coworkers.
Still, he hadn’t imagined this.
Lyse’s soft words sliced through his thoughts like a knife. “No, I didn’t have the right,” she agreed. “I didn’t. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you sure as hell shouldn’t have!” Fire flashed through him, part shame this time, and part something he didn’t have any desire to identify. Instead he used it like a weapon. “What are you, some kind of voyeur?”
Lyse hesitated for a long moment. Fionn kept his fists on the dresser, kept his back turned, afraid of what he’d do if he let himself get near her again. “No,” she said, just as quiet as before, “it’s not that at all.”
“Then what is it? Why watch me?”
“You know why,” she finally whispered, the words so quiet he would’ve had to strain to hear them if he hadn’t been so intent on her, hadn’t been hyperaware of every move she made, every breath she dragged into her lungs, every sound escaping her lips. He whirled around—
And stopped short. Lyse’s fingers were balled into a fist that rubbed hard at her chest like she had earlier, only this time— God, she was shaking. It hurt, looking at her, seeing her so vulnerable. And that fist…
It was her tell, he realized. When she was anxious or nervous. Had he ever noticed that about her before?
No, because he hadn’t truly noticed her before.
Except that wasn’t true either. He’d noticed her too much; that was why her betrayal had hit him so hard. Why he couldn’t let it go. Because this woman he wasn’t supposed to want was really the one who’d drawn him over and over. Hell, he wasn’t blind to the fact that most of the women he dated had dark hair and delicate builds, just like Lyse. That when he closed his eyes and touched a woman, took her, he was imagining someone else beneath him. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, though, not because Lyse was too young—the excuse he’d given Deacon time and again—but because she was too naive. Because the innocence shining from her eyes hadn’t been for him to take, no matter how much he’d wanted to.
Except she