𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮...
In which a 28 year old American woman finds herself entangled with one of Dublin's biggest celebrities.
First book of the Auden & Cillian series
TW: Age Gap, Mature Themes, Sexual Content
CILLIAN MURPHY x O...
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The water was almost too hot. It licked at Auden's skin, raising a flush across her chest and shoulders as she eased deeper into the bath. Bubbles clung to her arms, slipping against her fingers as she trailed them over the surface. Steam curled around her face, dampening her lashes.
She let out a slow, steady breath, willing herself to relax.
But she couldn't.
Her mind had been restless all day, caught in a quiet, gnawing dread. Cillian hadn't called. Hadn't texted. Not even to say the divorce was final.
Not even to say it was done.
She wanted to be patient, to be understanding. She wanted to be the kind of person who could give him space to grieve without making it about herself. But ever since the holiday party, doubt had been creeping into her bones like cold air seeping through a cracked window.
He still loved Jenni.
Auden clenched her jaw. That much had been obvious. It wasn't that she thought he wanted to be with Jenni — not after everything — but love wasn't something that simply vanished because you wanted it to. Pieces of him would always belong to her. Pieces Auden could never touch. Could she live with that?
A knock at the bathroom door startled her. Before she could answer, Cillian stepped inside.
Auden sat up quickly, water sloshing around her. Her breath caught at the sight of him — his face looked worn, his blue eyes raw with exhaustion and something darker. He had been crying. The edges of his lashes were still damp, the faint sheen of tears catching in the dim light.
"Are you okay?" she asked, already reaching for the edge of the tub, ready to climb out, to touch him.
He lifted a hand, stopping her. Not yet.
His silence tightened something in her chest.
Without speaking, Cillian began undressing, the movements slow, almost mechanical. His shirt hit the floor. Then his belt. Then the rest. When he finally stepped in behind her, the water shifted, rising around them, heat licking at her back as he settled against her.
Auden twisted her head to look up at him, the scent of whiskey mingling with the steam.
"Have you been drinking?" she asked softly.
Cillian ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face. Droplets of water slid down his temple, and for a moment, she was struck by the memory of the first time they kissed — rain dripping from his jaw, the warmth of his hands against her cheeks.
"Just a little," he murmured.
Auden swallowed. She wanted to ask again, to push him for an answer, but the weight in his eyes told her it wasn't about the drinking.
"What's wrong?"
She was afraid to hear the answer.
Cillian exhaled, resting his chin against the top of her head. His arms slid around her waist, his hands pressing flat against her stomach as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.
