Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Page 13

  I flip Opal the bird behind my head as I leave.

  I wind up the mountain, half-afraid my car isn't going to make it up these twisty roads. I thought West Bend was a rural little town, but this is on a whole different level. I haven't gone out driving much around here, not with all I've had going on with the store, but now all I can think about is how much Chloe would love to hike through these woods. She drags me on expeditions through the woods behind our house, and we pretend to be explorers as we discover "precious gems" in the stream that winds back behind the property.

  This is a whole different ballgame. This is the kind of place you go because you don't want any company. It’s the kind of place you go because you don't like being around people.

  When I pull up in the driveway, Killian's truck is there but he's not outside. I sit there for a moment behind the steering wheel, gathering my nerves. Then I reach underneath my skirt and slide my panties down my legs, shoving them into the glove compartment.

  I close my car door and pause for a minute, taking it in. It's a cabin – a real-life log cabin, like something out of a magazine, with a front porch that wraps around the entire side and a rocking chair perched in the corner.

  I walk toward the cabin, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me expects him to come barreling out the door brandishing a shotgun.

  But he doesn't. He pulls open the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down the surface of his skin. I stand there, totally frozen, my eyes on his wide chest. And that towel.

  Heaven help me, I'm so distracted by the fact that he's standing in front of me, naked under that towel and dripping wet from the shower, that my mind goes blank.

  When my eyes finally meet his again, I can't tell if his expression is smug or irritated. Probably both. "What's wrong? Did you come up here to slum it with a filthy mountain man?"

  If I didn't think I actually hurt his feelings before, I know it now. "Killian, the way I reacted the other day –"

  He doesn't let me finish. He grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck and plants his mouth on mine. He kisses me angrily, and I can't help it, I moan into his mouth. His hardness is already evident through the towel, pressing against my leg, and heat surges through me, right to my core.

  I don't know why my body reacts the way it does when he touches me, but I don't want him to stop. I want him to keep kissing me like this, hard and angry.

  But he pulls back from me. "Is that what you wanted?" he growls. "That's what you came up here for, right?"

  "Stop being an asshole.”

  “I’m the asshole?”

  “If the butt fits. I came up here to apologize, not to slum it. Not because I wanted to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere." I pause, exhaling hard as I try to focus on anything but his half-naked body. "I mean, I do want to fuck you out here in the middle of nowhere,” I admit.

  When he just looks at me silently, I plow ahead. "You caught me off-guard with the whole go somewhere else thing," I explain. When he opens his mouth, I hold my hand up again. "Wait. Let me say what I have to say because I want to get it out and the way you're standing here – wet, in a towel, and the way you kissed me just now. . . I'm having a hard enough time just thinking."

  I think I see a faint smile.

  "I haven't dated in – ever, actually. I married my high school boyfriend when I was eighteen years old. We didn't ever go out on a date. Mostly we fooled around in the backseat of his car and then he asked me to marry him and I said yes because I was young and dumb and " I swallow hard. "Anyway, I've never been on a date and I've never been asked out on a date and I definitely didn't expect you to ask me out on a date."

  Killian narrows his eyes. "Why the hell not?"

  "Because you're… you," I say, exasperated as I gesture toward him.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  "You're grumpy and disgruntled and Come on, you're not really a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy."

  Killian crosses his arms over his chest and all I can think about is flicking open that towel and letting it fall to the ground. I inhale deeply, practicing restraint. When did I get so dick-obsessed?

  "Maybe I am a flowers-and-dinner kind of guy," he grumbles. "Hell, maybe I need romanced a little bit. Ever think of that?"

  I can't help but grin. "Good to know. Next time I'll bring flowers. Maybe I'll wine and dine you a little bit. Then we can talk about your feelings. I’ll bring tissues in case you cry.”

  Killian doesn't crack a smile, but I can see it in his eyes now. "Even when you apologize, you're mouthy as hell.”

  "Want to see how mouthy I can be?" My eyes drop lower to the towel that's tented by his cock.

  23

  Killian

  All of the blood in my brain goes straight to my dick as this woman standing in front of me steps forward and flicks the edge of my towel open, catching it before it falls to the ground. Her eyes remain trained on mine as she slowly folds the fabric in half.

  "I can apologize better," she tells me as she lays the towel gently on the front deck before falling to her knees. We're not even inside the house. We're standing in front of the door and I'm naked as a jaybird with this woman at my feet this woman who makes me crazy, who seems to have a way of getting under my skin and grating on my nerves and pissing me off. Except that she also turns me on so hard I can't see straight.

  "I'm still pretty irritated." That's a lie. I might be irritated later, but right now all I can think about is her mouth. That is the only thing in this entire world that matters.

  "I'm sorry," she whispers, wrapping her hand around the base of my cock. I shudder at the sensation of her touch. How many times have I jerked off to the thought of her hand sliding down the length of my cock? Or her lips wrapped around me?

  Her thumb brushes over the tip, catching the pre-cum that beads there. As she opens her mouth, she looks up at me with those large blue-grey eyes. When she pauses, my cock so close to her that I can feel her warm breath, I want to freeze-frame this image in my head forever. I've never seen anything as sexy as she looks right now.

  Then she wraps her lush lips around me. Her mouth is the warmest, wettest thing I've ever felt, and I want to feel it there forever. As she bobs up and down my length, taking more of me with each pass, I grip a handful of her hair, telling myself to stay in control. I try desperately not to do what every part of me is screaming to do: yank her further onto my cock and hold her tightly while I fuck her sassy little mouth.

  I tell myself to be civilized.

  This girl is civilized, I remind myself. She's classy. And smart.

  And she's on her knees, her mouth tight around me, making these little moaning sounds in her throat that send vibrations roaring through me, making it virtually impossible to not lose control.

  She takes away her lips, substituting her hand as she looks up at me. "Still irritated?"

  I can't stifle my groan as her hand works me. How am I supposed to keep from coming when she's on her knees, looking at me the way she’s doing right now? "Yes," I groan. "Apologize harder."

  Lily laughs, her other hand finding my heavy balls, cradling them in her hand as she jerks me off. God, this woman's touch is making me insane. "You're a hard man to please."

  Even if she hadn't wrapped her lips back around my cock, I'd have groaned at the way she just talked about pleasing me. "That's it," I encourage her, my fingers laced through her hair.

  She moans when I grip her hair tighter, holding her head as I thrust my cock into her mouth. She fucking moans. “Do you like that?”

  Oh, hell. She nods, groaning her approval.

  Heat washes over me in waves as I struggle to maintain control. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck your mouth?”

  She whimpers, her hands on my thighs, her only response being to pull me closer. Gripping her hair tighter, I thrust into her mouth, this time deeper. I don't stop talking to her, murmuring her name and asking her if she likes it,
but I'm not sure what the hell I'm saying because she has me losing my damn mind. It’s not long before I’m close to the edge, and I pull out of her mouth, my cock in my hand.

  "Why did you stop?" she asks, her brow furrowed. She licks her lips, her face upturned, and I can barely keep myself from coming on her.

  I want to mark her. I want to make her mine. It’s not logical, and it makes no sense, but it’s some kind of primal thing, this urge I can’t control. I want to know she’s mine. "Because I'm so damn close to coming in your mouth, cupcake."

  She doesn't take her eyes off of me. She puts her hand over mine, stopping me, and grips the base of my shaft. "Do it."

  I groan as she envelopes my cock with her mouth again. There's no holding back now. The minute she resumes sucking me the way she did before, I let go into her perfect mouth. She takes everything I have, draining me dry until I have nothing left.

  When she’s finished, she looks at me with a self-satisfied expression. "Was that a decent apology?"

  "I can't remember what I was mad about." I pull her to her feet, my hands circling her tiny waist. Picking her up and pressing her against the side of the house, I don't bother with words before I dive underneath her skirt.

  I need to taste her. I want to devour her.

  So I do. She's soaking wet. If I'd had any question about whether she was turned on by having my cock in her mouth, that question would be answered.

  She tastes like heaven. Sweet and womanly and like everything good in the world. I can't get enough of her.

  My tongue works circles over her clit, then down lower, entering her as my hands grip her ass and hold her firmly in place. I fuck her with my tongue as she moans and whimpers her approval, and when I enter her with my fingers, my mouth enveloping her clit, she comes immediately. Her hips thrusting against my fingers, she cries out my name so much louder than she did at the bakery. She comes with abandon.

  When she finishes, she looks at me, her lips parted and her chest still heaving.

  "That was fast," I note, pulling her against me as I stand.

  Her eyes are wide as she nods. "I know."

  "Apologizing is that much of a turn-on, huh?"

  "Don't get any ideas."

  "About your lips on my cock or about you issuing apologies?"

  "Me issuing apologies."

  "That's good, because I have lots of thoughts about your lips on my cock. Highly inappropriate thoughts."

  She laughs, the movement vibrating through her. "I'm sure."

  "Don't pretend you don't have the same thoughts."

  She raises an eyebrow. "About my lips on your cock?"

  "Say that again."

  The corners of her mouth turn up. When she speaks, she does it with exaggerated slowness, punctuating each word with a breathy inhale. "My lips. Your cock."

  "That's it." I slip my palm under the edge of her t-shirt, running it over her taut stomach. "You've been thinking about it, haven't you?"

  She blushes. "You're so full of yourself."

  "Just like your mouth."

  "Just like my mouth what?"

  "Was so full of me."

  She slaps my arm. "You're really juvenile."

  "Yet you're completely obsessed with my dick."

  "I am not obsessed with your dick."

  "It's okay to admit it. I won't judge."

  Lily rolls her eyes. "Is this the mountain man version of foreplay?" she asks as my hand slides around her back. "Adolescent banter and talk about your cock?"

  She asks the question like it's something bad, but she's not even trying to hide her smile.

  "Well, I don't know 'bout no witty rep-ar-tee," I say, affecting an accent, "but up in these parts, talkin' don't count as foreplay."

  "Oh yeah? What we just did, was that foreplay?"

  "Definitely not. Foreplay would assume I'm going to stick it to you."

  "I think this might be the classiest conversation I've ever had in my life." She pauses for a beat. "Wait, so you're saying you're not going to stick it to me?"

  "'Fraid not, ma'am."

  Her eyebrows furrow. "Why not?"

  "Already told you. I need to be wined and dined first, romanced a little."

  She laughs. "Is that how you're going to play it, caveman?"

  "Yup."

  "This is your ploy to get me to go out with you?"

  "Is it working?"

  She doesn't answer, just turns and walks down the steps to the driveway. Then she looks over her shoulder, a grin still on her face. "Fine. But you know the whole town's going to be talking if they see us together."

  I shrug. "Maybe you confused me with someone who gives a shit what people think."

  "I definitely haven't forgotten that." She opens her car door. "See you, caveman."

  "Is that a yes?"

  She pauses for a minute. "Fine. It's a yes."

  I watch her pull away, no doubt on her way to pick up her kid from school. It's only after she pulls away that it dawns on me. I just talked my way into a date with a woman who was totally fine just screwing me, without any strings attached – and told her she had to wait for sex.

  What the ever-loving hell is wrong with me?

  24

  Lily

  "Mommy," Chloe moans from the sofa, her voice hoarse. "My throat hurts."

  "Do you want some more juice?" I touch the back of my hand to her forehead. "You're pretty warm, sweetheart."

  "Orange juice, please," she requests, her gaze going behind me to the television, attention completely focused on the cartoon she's watching.

  I grab a Tylenol and her orange juice and she takes them wordlessly, her head craning to see the TV around me. She's snuggled up with her favorite bear and her books, but has mostly been watching cartoons and sniffling on the sofa. The pediatrician said it was nothing to worry about, probably the flu, and that it should pass in a few days. He prescribed fluids and rest. Of course, like most seven-year-olds, Chloe isn't so great about resting. She's already going stir-crazy.

  In the kitchen, I'm working on a birthday cake for a customer – a small one, fortunately, otherwise I'd never be able to fit it in my refrigerator. But I can’t afford to fall behind. It’s times like this that I realize I really have to find someone else to help out at the store. I can’t just rely on Opal to help take care of things when Chloe gets sick or if there’s an emergency.

  Opal reassured me that the store was just fine without me today. Tomorrow, Bethany, my babysitter, will come hang out with Chloe while I go to work. Everything is taken care of. Except I have the nagging feeling that I forgot something.

  My phone vibrates and I look down at the text message from Killian.

  Should I pick you up at eight o'clock?

  Oh shit. The date.

  I swipe the screen on my phone and text Killian back.

  Chloe's sick. Flu. I'll have to take a rain check.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Need anything?

  I pause before I respond.

  Thanks, but we're good.

  The phone goes silent after that. He probably thinks I’m blowing him off and using Chloe as an excuse. I second-guess the text message about a hundred times as I busy myself with work, taking advantage of the fact that Chloe is quiet and settled. I should text him back, I tell myself something less abrupt, apologize for not being able to make the date.

  I pipe flowers onto the cake in various shades of pink and purple before dusting the entire surface with edible glitter.

  Chloe calls me from the living room. "Mo-om!"

  "Hang on a second." I slide the cake into the refrigerator before heading for the living room.

  "This is over. I don't want to watch TV anymore. I'm bored," she complains before putting her head on the arm of the sofa.

  "Why don't I read you a book?"

  "Can you get the princess and the dragon one?"

  "Do you know where it is?"

  "No," she whines. "In my room somewhere. Will you
find it? I'm tired."

  "I'll go find it."

  "Can we paint our nails? And do makeup?"

  "I thought you were too tired to look for the book yourself. I take it you're feeling better than you were earlier?"

  "I'm bo-red."

  My gaze lands on the princess book shoved sideways between a couple of other books in the living room bookcase. "Is that the princess book you were talking about?"

  "Yes!" Chloe leans forward and grabs it from my hands before I even reach the sofa. "Will you read it to me?"

  "Let me get my water, and I'll come back and read." Chloe is reading on her own now, but the princess and the dragon is one we read together. I want to keep that as long as possible.

  The doorbell rings, and Chloe perks up. "Who's that?"

  "Probably a salesperson or something," I say, holding my hand up when she sits up. "Don't come to the door with me. You're sick."

  "But I'm bored, too."

  I give her a glare. "You're supposed to rest. I'll get it."

  "Mo-om."

  "Don't mom me," I call as I walk down the hallway. I pull the door open to see Killian standing there, holding two paper bags. "What are you doing here?"

  Oh, God. Killian is here and I look like. . . well, I look like I’m a mom hanging out with my sick kid.

  My hand flies to my hair, pulled up into an unruly pile on top of my head. I glance down at my clothes, even though I already know I'm wearing my stay-at-home outfit – this faded pair of striped pajama shorts that barely cover my ass and a ratty white tank top with a hole in the side. And no bra. Or makeup.

  Killian's eyes drift down the length of my body and up again, and he does absolutely nothing to even try to hide it. My cheeks warm under his gaze, and I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling naked in front of him, which is totally ridiculous given the fact that his mouth has been between my legs.