Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“Oh…God.” Choking on the sounds, Cillian brushed his fingertips to the cool metal—then snapped a glare at Brendan’s back. “I—you—are you even going to ask me?!”
“I just did,” drifted back.
“That wasn’t asking! That was telling!”
Brendan paused halfway down the hall, glancing back with one knowing eye that said everything for the smirk hidden by his shoulder. “…I already know the answer.”
“Brendan!” Cillian shot to his feet, clamping the box closed and clutching it against his palm. “You arrogant, insufferable, overbearing, impossible, complete and utter arse—”
Brendan burst into laughter.
Rich, deep, warm laughter that seemed to flood the cottage with the light and life that made this their home, and with his lips curled in an inviting, entirely infuriating grin, he turned and swaggered back into the living room—then sank down on one knee in front of Cillian, looking up at him with that devil-may-care smile that just made Cillian grind his teeth and want to kiss him that much more.
“All right, all right,” Brendan said—and took both of Cillian’s hands, curling his fingers around the one clutching the ring box. “Cillian Tell, will you marry this arrogant, insufferable, overbearing, impossible, complete and utter ass?”
“Hmph,” Cillian answered, but he couldn’t resist slipping his arms around Brendan’s neck, leaning into him. “…all I wanted was the chance to say yes. So put your ring on me, you arse.”
Laughing again, Brendan turned his head to kiss the underside of Cillian’s wrist. “That has to be the most graceless and yet most honest proposal acceptance I’ve ever heard,” he said—but he didn’t hesitate to steal the box from Cillian and pry it open.
When he caught Cillian’s hand and slid the heavy weight of the platinum onto his finger…something cracked open inside Cillian, something wondrous and lovely and all-consuming. Something that felt like finding his place, settling into something that had always been waiting for him; he’d just had to find it.
Something that felt like finding their place.
Where they belonged.
Together.
And Brendan wasn’t smiling any longer as he laced their fingers together, body heat soaking into the ring to warm it against Cillian’s skin, and looked up at Cillian with those deep brown eyes that could still consume his world with their magnetism.
“Love you, you irritating monster,” Brendan teased softly, and Cillian grinned, breaths hitching.
“Love you too, you absolute fucking dick,” he said—then laughed, joy spilling out past his lips in an unstoppable stream, and he bent to give that joy to Brendan with touch, with taste, with the press of their lips in a kiss that promised this was the first day of their forever. “Now take me to bed,” he whispered against Brendan’s hot, lusciously firm mouth. “And let me show you just how much.”
Let me show you just how much I need you.
Not only his body, but his heart.
He’d set out from home looking for something, in the great world beyond his tiny little microcosm.
He’d just never thought he would find a man like Brendan.
And a love that stitched itself inside of Cillian to make itself a permanent part of him, embedded deep. Engraved on his heart.
Filling him with the promise of forever as, without ever breaking the lock of their lips…
Brendan swept Cillian into his arms, and carried him up to their bed.
Where they didn’t leave until the sun rose.
And dawn broke over the very first day of the rest of their lives.
THE END
AFTERWORD I
I HAD SOME GODDAMNED FEELINGS about using attempted sexual assault as a plot device in this story. I don’t like when people throw in rape for cheap thrills or as an easy way to create drama; as a sexual assault and child sexual abuse survivor myself, it always feels like the cavalier way people treat rape as a plot driver is disrespectful and shows a complete lack of understanding of what it feels like, what it does to you, even when you narrowly escape being assaulted.
But I had kind of backed myself into a corner with leaving the Oliver Newcomb thread hanging in His Cocky Cellist; I couldn’t not have him get his comeuppance after it came out in that book that he did something terrible and his brother has been trying to atone for it for his entire adult life, and ignoring it felt like fridging Julie and Siorse. With active writing it’s hard to just…take someone down for past crimes without anything current on the page, but I tried to minimize it to a pushy, aggressive come-on where he doesn’t have the chance to try physical force before it's interrupted.
(I also just didn’t want to spend the entire book with Cillian trying to recover from sexual trauma; I didn’t want to hurt him that way, so instead the focus was on trying to reclaim his comfort with his own sexuality after Newcomb tainted something intimate to him.)
It still felt gratuitous, so I said…hey. You know what?