Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  "Yes." I can barely choke out the word: it sounds strangled.

  "Not today, cupcake."

  I whimper. "What?"

  "I'm going to make you come, don't worry. Then I'm going to come all over those panties of yours, the ones you insisted on wearing today," he whispers, his mouth close to my ear as he strokes my clit with his cock. Arousal surges through me making me heady, dizzy with need. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  What I'd like is for you to fuck me already. When he slides his hands under my ass, picking me up and turning me to the side before leaning me back onto the desk, I think he's going to do exactly what I was just thinking. Except he spreads his legs around mine, half-straddling me so he can tease me with his cock. He brings the tip to my entrance, groaning as he watches my wetness coat him - but he doesn't enter me.

  "Touch yourself," he directs, pausing at my entrance. "Ask me what you're going to do after I come on your panties."

  I whimper as I rub my clit harder. The sensation of the head of his cock against my entrance is more than I can bear. If I moved just an inch – it would hardly take anything, merely a push of my hips – he'd be inside me. Instead, he nudges my entrance so that the tip of his cock is against me. I'm heady with desire, too drunk on my own need to focus on what he's saying.

  "Ask me," he repeats. "Ask me what you're going to do."

  "What?" I'm breathless, so close to coming that I can barely get the question out. I'm so close to the edge, my entire body tensed. "What am I going to do?"

  "I'm going to make you come like this, with my cock right here against you, and then I'm going to come between your legs, and all over your panties," he repeats. "And then I'm going to pull those panties up. You're going to wear them and know that that's from me. You’re going to wear me all day."

  "Fuck." I groan the word, trying desperately to mute the sound, gripping his strong biceps for support as my orgasm washes over me.

  "Look at me, Lily," he orders. He pulls his cock away, his hand moving up and down his cock as he looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes. I know he’s close to coming; I can see it on his face.

  "I want you to come on me," I whisper, the words surprising even me. I want him to come on me. I want to feel him on my skin.

  Then he comes. He comes between my legs, on my thighs and panties and onto my pussy. I don't know whether I feel more aroused or filthy. I don't have time to ponder that, because Killian brings his mouth down on mine, the scruff of his beard scratching my chin as he kisses me. His tongue finds mine gently, easily and I kiss him back for what seems like forever, but is probably more like minutes. When he runs his palms over my back, arousal stirs within me again. My body seems like it's in a perpetual state of arousal around this man, always on edge, always wanting.

  "You came on me," I murmur softly when he finally pulls his lips away from mine.

  His lips tug on the edges. "I know. And I'm not the least bit sorry about it. Are you?"

  "I feel. . . um, well, I've never done anything like that before."

  "Neither have I, cupcake." I watch as he tucks himself back into his jeans before reaching for me and pulling me toward him. His hands on each side of my panties, he pulls them up where they belong.

  I let out a whimper. "I can't believe you just put those back on me."

  "Sweetheart, I can't believe you thought I was going to let go of the chance to have you walk around all day with me between your legs."

  I choke back a laugh. "You're the filthiest man I've ever met."

  "Filthiest and sexiest," he corrects me. "Say you like it."

  "I. . ." Do I like it? "Maybe."

  He raises his eyebrows. "You sure about that?"

  My cheeks flush warm. "It feels. . . dirty."

  "And?"

  "I think I might like it."

  He makes a rumbling sound low in his throat. "You're not what I expected."

  "You're exactly what I expected."

  "I'm going to take that as a compliment." He pulls my skirt down where it belongs, and takes my chin in his hand, his rough thumb rubbing my lower lip softly. I'd never have guessed these rough, calloused hands could feel so gentle.

  "You're still not hired, though."

  Killian snorts. "Thanks for the clarification. Does this mean I can take you someplace other than the bakery?"

  I inhale sharply, panic rising in my chest. "What, like a date? Out in public?"

  No. No. No. I'm not ready to date. Holy shit, what would I even say to Chloe?

  Killian's brow furrows and a dark look crosses his face. "What, you don't want to be seen in public with me?"

  "I don't – I didn’t expect you to ask me out. I mean, rumors fly around this town so quickly and I have Chloe and you're not exactly I mean, why do you want to get involved with someone with a kid?” I stop myself before I say anything else because I think I already hurt his feelings. I'm floundering, drowning in my own words.

  "Yeah, don't worry about it." There's an edge to Killian's voice that's unmistakable. "I'll just come by the store and we'll screw in the office and maybe in the alley behind the store. That's what you want, yeah?"

  "Shit. No, that's not what I meant at all, Killian "

  It's too late. He opens the door, looking over his shoulder at me. "Later."

  Not later, cupcake. Just later.

  Then he walks out, leaving me standing there. I no longer feel filthy in a sexy way. I just feel dirty for making him think there was something wrong with him.

  But he's not exactly boyfriend material. Right? He's gruff and crude and he's a twenty-or thirty-something oh, God, I don't even know how old he is bachelor. Everything about him is wrong. He has to know that.

  I don't know the first thing about dating. Not grown-up dating anyway. Adam and I dated our senior year in high school, but that was more like groping in the backseat of his car and making out under the bleachers at the football field. We were stupid enough to marry each other down at City Hall the minute we were both eighteen years old.

  I have no idea how to date.

  Obviously, judging by Killian's reaction to my response, I already suck at it.

  21

  Killian

  I walk out of Lily's bakery and make the drive back to the cabin, practically fuming. I don't know why I'm so irritated. I wasn't even asking her out on a date. I really just wanted to take her to the cabin. I wanted to bring her to my bed. But then she said that shit about going out in public with me, and it got under my skin.

  Like she would be ashamed to be seen in public with someone like me.

  Her words set off every feeling that I was familiar with as a kid growing up here in West Bend shame and embarrassment that I was who I was, one of the Saint boys. After that, as an adult, let's just say that no one was taking me home to meet her parents.

  She's making it clear that she's slumming it with someone like me. I can put my mouth on hers, put my tongue in her pussy, but she doesn't want me anywhere else.

  I grumble as I start building the frame for a back deck on the house. The whole damn house will be surrounded by decks at this rate.

  I'm still on edge the next day. Even a morning of manual labor fails to take it out of me. Then Silas shows up out of the blue, the absolute last person in the world I want to see.

  "The cabin's looking good." He stands in the dirt driveway with his hands half tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

  "I'm building a deck."

  Silas nods. "Looks good," he repeats awkwardly.

  I exhale heavily. I'm ready for this bullshit with Elias and Silas to be over. "You want a beer?"

  Silas sits in Jack's rocking chair and I hand him a cool bottle, sipping my beer and leaning up against the deck railing. Beads of condensation collect on the glass immediately in the sun, running down the sides. I take a drag from the bottle and look at Silas. "You drove a long way up here."

  "Elias and I were talking after the dinner at his and River's place the other night, and I go
t to thinking."

  "Yeah?"

  "I know you wouldn't have left in the middle of all that shit unless it was something important."

  I nod and let out a long breath. "I left a friend to come back here after mom died."

  A look flits across Silas's face and I know exactly what he's thinking.

  "Not a girl," I clarify.

  "I didn't say anything."

  "I could see it in your eyes. I wouldn't have taken off in the middle of all that for a piece of ass, alright?"

  "You don't have to be so damn sensitive," Silas says.

  "You're going to feel what 'sensitive' is like when I punch you in the balls."

  Silas chuckles, sipping on his beer. He kicks back in the rocking chair. "It's a nice place you got up here."

  "It's quiet."

  "No brothers around to bug the shit out of you," he teases.

  "Exactly," I agree. "Quiet."

  "Luke's going to propose to Autumn."

  "So I hear."

  "There's this girl Tempest knows. . ." Silas starts.

  I groan. "Is that why you came up here? To set me up with some chick?"

  Silas shrugs. "Tempest insisted this girl was your type."

  "What the fuck is my type?"

  "That's what I said! Everyone knows you're too much of an asshole to be set up with some girl. Can you imagine? One growl from you and she'd go running."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing," Silas says. "You're just. . . well, you're you."

  "Did you come up here to make peace or start some new shit with me?" I growl. What is with people? I'm too much of an asshole to be set up with some girl?

  "I told Tempest I'd mention it while I was here."

  "Consider it mentioned."

  Silas is silent for a minute, taking a drag from his beer while I mentally congratulate myself for not punching him. First Lily, and now Silas? I'm not that much of an asshole.

  "Luke said you were working," Silas says.

  "Nope."

  "At that cupcake place." Silas gets a self-satisfied look on his face, almost like he's going to crack a smile.

  "Shit, you really don't know when to stop, do you?" I ask. "No wonder your smart mouth gets you into so many fights."

  Silas grins, obviously pleased with himself. "Tempest likes you, you know. She said that underneath that brooding exterior, she thinks you're sweet."

  "Sweet."

  "Her words, not mine." Silas looks smug.

  "Why the hell are you guys talking about me?"

  "Because of the friend. She said she thought you were sweet and I said I thought you were a misanthropic asshole."

  I laugh, more of a cough. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

  "What are brothers for?" Silas asks, still grinning.

  We're both silent for a while, the only noise out here being the birds and the rustling of leaves in the woods. Finally I speak. "I left Texas to come back here when mom passed," I explain. "I left a good friend in the hospital."

  Silas nods. "Is your friend alright?"

  "He died. That's why I went back when I did. Thought I could make it back before he passed, but he was gone."

  "Shit, man." Silas takes a drag on his beer. "I didn't know."

  I sip mine again. "Well, now you do."

  Silas nods, kicking back in his chair again. "You did all the work on this yourself, huh?"

  "Yep. Been working on it the past couple months. Here, I'll show you." I give him the grand tour, pointing out the modifications I've made to the cabin and the shed out to the right that I converted into a workshop.

  After Silas leaves, I feel slightly less on edge, since at least the negative bullshit between me and the twins is done with. But what he said about me being too much of an asshole to go out with Tempest's friend keeps bugging me. Not that I want to fucking go out with Tempest's friend. I don't. But I'm also not some ogre sitting in a cabin by myself, hating the world.

  I'm not.

  22

  Lily

  "I was polite yesterday when you were walking around here like someone took your birthday " Opal starts, but I interrupt her.

  "I was certainly not walking around here like someone took my birthday," I protest, piping purple frosting onto a batch of lavender cupcakes, a new recipe I've been playing with.

  "Sure you weren't. You forget that I've had to work with you the past few months, every single day."

  "If you don't like it, you should quit," I snip, immediately regretting how I sound. It's not Opal's fault I'm in a bad mood; it's my own.

  Opal raises her eyebrows. “I know you didn't mean that, since you'd be lost without me." She wipes her hands on her apron and stares me down, daring me to challenge her.

  I exhale heavily and set down the piping bag. "I would be lost without you. And I didn't mean to be snippy. I'm just stressed out."

  "Mmm-hmm. Would that stress have anything to do with the way Killian stormed out of here yesterday?"

  "No. Definitely not," I say, my words shaking. "Maybe a little. But I'm more stressed about the store and the fact that I have a mortgage and a child and "

  "You know what's good for stress?"

  I can't help but laugh. "Don't even say it. You're like Killian's pimp."

  "Trust me, child, that boy doesn't need any pimping out. You've seen how those college girls look at him when he's in here, like he's a piece of meat and they're a pack of wild dogs."

  I roll my eyes. "I don't know why you're pushing me at someone who obviously has lots of girls chasing after him."

  Opal sighs like she's exasperated with me, but I know she's exaggerating. The two of us might bicker back and forth, but she's the closest thing to a friend I have in this town. "Because you need to get back on the horse."

  She gives me a pointed look and waggles her eyebrows.

  I choke back a laugh. "Subtle, Opal."

  "I was hoping I was obvious.”

  I shake my head. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Honey, I'm seventy-three years old."

  "What does that have to do with all of your innuendos?"

  Opal laughs. "It means I don't give a shit how I'm supposed to act at seventy-three."

  "I hope I'm like you when I'm seventy-three, Opal."

  "You need to turn off your give-a-shit meter and stop caring what people think."

  "Who says I care what people think?"

  Opal doesn't answer my question. "I wasn't always like this, you know. The older you get, the less you care what people think. Which means that if I want to have a booty call at seventy-three years old, that's what I do."

  I laugh. "Booty call?” The last time we talked about Opal's love life which is apparently far more interesting than my own she said she was seeing one of the widowers in town, Bert, a deacon at the church. Now she's talking about booty calls?

  "I believe that's what they call it these days. Booty call. Or fuck buddy.”

  "I can’t believe you’re talking to me about booty calls," I say, laughter bubbling up in my chest so quickly that I snort, my hand flying up to my nose.

  "You need to get on the internet more. There's a whole world out there. Terms for everything. One of the college kids said I was 'on fleek' the other day because I'm with it. I’m hip.”

  I snort again, somehow unable to control myself. "So Bert is your booty call?"

  "He certainly is. I'm not looking for a new husband. Carl, God rest his soul, was my great love in life."

  "You don't think you can have another?"

  "There's not another one out there for me. He was it. But I'm not going to my grave some shriveled up old prune who hasn't had any fun, either. And I don't give a shit what people think about it."

  "What does all of this have to do with Killian?" I ask the question, even though I know exactly what this has to do with Killian. She’s trying to tell me, in her not-so-subtle way, that I should disregard all sense of reason and propriety and jump in
to something with him, even if it’s a booty call.

  Opal shrugs. "I don't know. You figure it out. I'm just an old woman who rambles sometimes."

  "Did Killian say something to you?"

  "It was written all over him. That boy has it bad for you."

  "That boy does not have it bad for me. And if he did, so what? Even if I wanted to date him, I have Chloe."

  "I should make you pay me a dollar for every time you use your child as an excuse for not making a life for yourself."

  My mouth falls open, and I shut it again. "I do not use my child as an excuse."

  Opal just gives me a look. "Today is slow out front, and you have a few hours before Chloe gets out of school. I could pick her up for you, and you could take a ride up the mountain and tell that boy you're sorry for whatever it is you said to him."

  "I'm the only one who's authorized to pick up Chloe," I argue.

  "Oh, please. Call Amanda down at the school office and tell her I'm picking Chloe up for you. I've known Amanda since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She knows I'm not stealing a child."

  "I'm not dumping Chloe on you so I can run around and. . . do whatever, Opal."

  “I think you mean do whoever.”

  I change the subject. "How do you know it's me who needs to apologize?"

  Opal laughs. "It's written all over your face, honey." She reaches into her pocket and withdraws a napkin. "Now, just in case you decide you want to take a little drive and get some fresh air, his address is written right there. It's twenty minutes or so, though, so I wouldn't wait around too long thinking about it."

  It takes me ten minutes to think about it. "Fine. I’m going to apologize. But I'll be back in time to pick up Chloe, Opal."

  "Uh-huh. You have my number if you want help."

  You have a problem accepting help. Killian's voice echoes in my brain.

  "Another time, Opal."

  "I love that little angel, so you leave her with me whenever you like. You know, if you come to your senses regarding that boy and you need some alone time."