She licked her lips. He leaned closer, close enough to taste her breath on his tongue.
“No!” The grip on his arm stopped pulling him closer and pushed instead. Fionn stopped dead.
Glistening eyes met his. “Don’t.” Lyse sucked in a ragged breath. “If you don’t mean it, then don’t.”
Mean what? That he wanted her? His body had desired hers for far too long, but that was all this was. Except, looking into her eyes, he couldn’t help remembering Deacon’s words. She’s in love with you.
He jerked back as if her skin had burned him. The sheen of tears caught his eye before Lyse tucked her chin, hiding from him. He couldn’t identify the ache in his chest, and he didn’t want to. Instead he circled to his side of the bed, turned off the light, and lay down, but he didn’t think he’d sleep.
He didn’t deserve to.
Don’t hurt her.
As much as he believed she was guilty and deserved punishment, Fionn thought he had indeed hurt Lyse. What kind of man did that make him?
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Nine
Lyse stretched her cramped muscles, rolled over, and snuggled back under the covers like she normally did, on the side she preferred. Facing Fionn like she hadn’t been able to last night because of her hand being cuffed.
Facing Fionn.
Her eyelids shot open.
The pillow directly in front of her held the imprint of his head, but the covers were thrown back and, when she touched it, the mattress was cold. Fionn was gone.
She guessed she should be grateful he’d uncuffed her before he left.
A shudder went through her as she stared at the spot where he’d lain beside her all night. She’d held herself very still as Fionn had settled into sleep, not wanting to risk his attention, unsure she’d be able to tell him no a second time. Her first kiss and a man’s hand on her breast all in the same night. She should be celebrating, but even as good as Fionn’s touch had felt—like a dream come true but far, far hotter—it had also felt wrong. She’d been a convenient female body to him, and she’d rather not have him at all than to have him not care.
Obviously she wasn’t the casual-sex type.
You wouldn’t still be a virgin if you were.
Sitting up, she scooted to the edge of the bed, pushing the thick fall of her hair out of her eyes. She would have to face him today, after what they had done. Or rather, what he had done. If she regretted anything, it was that—not getting to touch him too. But she wouldn’t get that chance, not again. Fionn was a lot of things, but not a rapist. She’d told him no; she knew he wouldn’t touch her again. And something inside her mourned his loss all over again.
Slipping quietly from their room, she made it to the bathroom without running into anyone. Cool water helped her wake up, and she used her fingers to comb her hair back and tie it into a sloppy knot at the back of her head. There was nothing she could do about her lack of a bra, but she straightened the rest of her clothes, retrieved her glasses from her bedside table, and made her way to the kitchen.
Siobhan stood at the stove, turning bacon. The scent of coffee and frying pork filled the air, and Lyse’s stomach growled. She’d never gotten her chicken soup last night.
Siobhan glanced up at her as she entered. “Morning, dear.”
Her friend’s glance was open and friendly, just like always. Had she talked to Fionn this morning? Had he told his mother what they’d done last night? Had he spilled more details about her past? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t read Siobhan’s body language well enough, but God, she wanted to. Wanted to know if her friend was still her friend.
“Good morning,” she said, cautious of the minefield she was stepping onto.
Siobhan jutted her chin toward the coffee maker. “Help yourself. How I ended up with an Irishman stuck on coffee in the morn, I’m not knowing.” She grinned. “Certainly gets him up and going, if you know what I mean. Maybe that’s why coffee is such a favorite in the States.”
Lyse crossed to the cabinet to grab a mug, hiding her blush from Siobhan. Somehow she didn’t think Mack needed help getting up and going in the morning. The man was a typical adrenaline junkie, even flirting with sixty years old. Most of the teams Lyse had worked with at Global First were the same, the men filled with an overabundance of testosterone. Even Fionn. Or especially Fionn. He surely had plenty of sex drive.
And she’d been in bed with him this morning. Surely Siobhan didn’t think…
Lyse blushed harder.
“Mack is showerin’. Fionn is out walking the perimeter, he said.” Siobhan transferred thick slabs of bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate. “They’ll be back in time for breakfast.” She pointed at a loaf of fresh-baked bread Lyse recognized from the local bakery. “Cut that up, yeah?”
Grateful for something to do with her hands, Lyse rummaged in the drawers until she found a knife, then got to work. She was four slices in when she caught a glimpse of Fionn at the edge of the tree line.
“He’s always been a stubborn one.”
Lyse startled, the knife dropping from her hand to clatter onto the counter. Siobhan patted her back before moving to the sink nearby. Rather than attempt to pick up the knife and start again, Lyse planted her palms on the cool tile surface and breathed, staring at the spot where Fionn had disappeared into the woods once more. What had Siobhan meant, he was stubborn? Of course he was stubborn—that was part of what made him good at his job, at hunting. If only he’d ease up on that stubbornness where she was concerned.
“So…” Siobhan stuck her hands under the running water. “I got Fionn’s
