My Pulse

Chapter 8: Cian O'Shea

After Quinn returned home from Murphy's bar...

Cian's POV

I watch my laptop as Quinn finally emerges from her bathroom. I might be ruthless, but I couldn't bring myself to put a camera in there. Now, I'm second-guessing that decision. Quinn looks tired as she crawls under the blankets, and then the bedside lamp flickers back on as she grabs—what is that? A whiskey bottle. I stare, surprised but impressed. My Mo Cuishle keeps whiskey by her bed.

A flicker of guilt surfaces. Did I drive her to this? No matter. The need to have her outweighs anything else. Quinn has to fall in love with me for my plan to work. I chuckle softly as she stares at the wall and mutters, "Fuck," into the silence. My mood lifts when she gets up and grabs her laptop.

Anticipation courses through me as I watch her. I know the exact moment she sees my email—her body stiffens, frozen. She reads it once, then again, her hands trembling. I laugh quietly as she nearly throws the laptop and jumps out of bed. What is she doing now?

My heart pounds when Quinn heads to Rory's door. She stands there, hand on the knob, for what feels like forever. Then, to my relief, she turns away and heads to the fridge instead. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Good girl," I mutter to myself. Killing Rory would be more trouble than it's worth, but she doesn't need to know that. She'd do anything to protect him, and I can use that. But killing him would leave her broken in a way I can't afford. She'd never forgive me.

I chuckle when she collapses on the couch, a bowl of popcorn hugged to her chest and an empty Guinness bottle on the floor.

I should sleep, too. My body aches with exhaustion, but my mind won't rest. Every thought loops back to her—her lips, her hair, the way she bit her lip during pool last night. I hadn't expected her to be a tease, but she was. She wants me, even if she can't admit it. Maybe she's dreaming about me now. If I'm lucky, she is.

---

I wake with a start, heart pounding as I scan my surroundings. Nothing's wrong. No danger. Damn, I must've passed out thinking about her. My growing obsession is undeniable. I glance down and realize I've made a mess of myself. Fuck. A wet dream? I can't even remember the last time that happened.

I smirk as I grab my laptop, eager to check if Quinn is awake. She's still on the couch, curled up like an angel. My angel.

Then Rory walks into the room, pausing when he sees her. He debates whether to wake her before heading toward the kitchen. When he finally stirs her awake, my pulse quickens. My Mo Cuishle is quick on her feet, covering up who I am when Rory presses her about last night. Smart girl. I'm not sure he believes her, but for now, it buys us time.

Hearing Quinn say she likes me sends a thrill through me. My grin stretches wider than it has in years. Back off, Rory. She doesn't need you hovering. I note with satisfaction that she tells him about our dinner plans tonight. Perfect. I'll take her to a secluded spot at the restaurant and finally have her to myself.

---

I'm already at O'Rileys when Quinn walks in, head high, owning the room. She greets the waitress warmly, and Andy, the bartender, perks up at the sight of her. She hugs a petite blonde, laughing brightly. Too many people want a piece of her, and it grates on me. Then her eyes meet mine. I hold her gaze, willing her to come to me. She hesitates before hugging some guy—Trav, I think. My patience thins, and I grip the edge of the table to keep myself in check. Soon.

Finally, she makes her way toward me. I stand as she approaches, wrapping my arms around her when she's close enough. To my surprise, she doesn't resist. Maybe it's because her friends are watching. I hold her a beat longer than necessary before pulling back.

"Please, take a seat," I say, gesturing to the chair across from me. "Thank you for coming."

"Did I have a choice?" she asks, her tone dry but defiant.

"In more ways than one," I reply with a sly smile.

"Care to elaborate?" she presses.

"Not really," I answer flatly, watching her frustration mount.

"Then what do you want to talk about? It better be worth it, considering the threats."

"Relax. Let me get you a drink." I return with a Jack and Coke, but she refuses it. Of course. I come back with a Guinness instead, letting her think she's in control. She doesn't realize she's already mine.

Quinn wants answers, but I can't give them yet. Not all of them. Instead, I offer her a glimpse of my past, a piece of my family's story. She listens intently, her defenses softening. When I tell her the meaning of *Mo Cuishle*, I see the flush creep up her cheeks. She tries to hide it, but I see it all.

"Do I make your heart beat?" I ask, leaning closer.

"Only out of fear," she says, her voice steady but her body betraying her. She gulps, her knees pressing together under the table. Lies.

"I don't believe that," I say with a knowing smirk.

The air between us crackles with tension. Under the table, I rest my hand on her thigh, sliding it higher when she doesn't push me away. Her breath hitches, and I lean in, brushing my lips against her neck. I inhale deeply, savoring her scent—salt and ocean, like the Galway coast after a storm.

"I can hear your pulse from here, my Mo Cuishle," I murmur.

Before I can take things further, the waitress appears with the check, shattering the moment. I pay quickly, eager to get her out of there. The car ride to her apartment is thick with unspoken tension. I grip the steering wheel tightly, resisting the urge to pull over and take her right then and there.

When we arrive, I lean toward her, brushing my fingers over her lips. Her breath catches, and when I kiss her, she doesn't hesitate. Her lips part, and I deepen the kiss, sliding my hand under her shirt. She moans softly, and I nearly lose control. My princess kisses me back fiercely, matching my intensity. Quinn's sweet lips part and open for me, letting my tongue roam freely. She starts to tease my tongue back as I explore her mouth, and blood rushes to my cock. My hand glides under her shirt, and I feel my way up her soft skin to squeeze her beautiful breasts. When she let out a moan, I harden further.

I want her so bad, every inch of her. I pull out of the kiss to explore her some more. I suck, nip, and kiss my way down her gorgeous neck. Fuck, she smells amazing, like the ocean in winter and saltwater on a rainy day in Galway. I wonder if she is wet for me? I have to know.

A sharp knock on the window makes Quinn jump away from me.

Fucking Rory.

I glare at him, barely holding back my irritation. After sending him off with a curt goodnight, I turn back to Quinn. I hand her the untraceable phone. "For us," I say simply.

She takes it, and I see the conflict in her eyes. Good. Let her wrestle with it. She's already mine, whether she realizes it or not.