30. Natasha
30
NATASHA
K illian’s not in his room. I know before I even attempt the climb onto his balcony.
Because I spot him through the big picture window of his expansive ground-floor kitchen. The modern industrial-style room is illuminated in a warm golden light that almost seems to spotlight him as it makes his blond curls shine.
He’s sitting at the high-top counter between the cooking area and the nook. Shirtless, he has his beautifully intricate Celtic tattoos on full display. And he looks muscular and deadly, even as he nurses a shot of whiskey between his palms.
He appears troubled, his broad shoulders curled forward, his strong brow pressed into a deep V. And he glares down at his glass like it offended him personally.
I’m painfully curious what’s on his mind.
But that’s not why I came.
I’m here to follow through with my father’s orders—even if my ability to do so no longer exists. Still, I can’t go home without something to show for it.
Whether it’s a success or another failed attempt.
I continue to struggle with the anticipation that creeps in whenever I think about what comes if I don’t succeed.
Ignoring the giddy excitement that races up my spine, I creep quickly across Killian’s soft lawn. Sticking to the shadows where the spotlights won’t catch me, I make it over the expanse during the gap in his men’s rounds. I’m so familiar with the schedule now, waiting for my opportunity takes a fraction of the time it used to.
And keeping low to the ground, I slink toward the back door off the kitchen.
It’s the same door I entered through on the night I chose to break into his bedroom from the hallway rather than the balcony. So I’ve picked the lock once before. But last time, no one was sitting in the kitchen. And the lights were off.
Which means this time, I have to be even more invisible as I work.
Holding my breath, I stay in a crouch as I slip the pins into their slot and slowly shift the tumblers.
It takes mere seconds before the soft click sounds, and I glance up to make sure the blue security light at the top of the door isn’t going off. It shouldn’t. Not when Killian hasn’t gone to bed for the night.
Again, I wonder why he’s still brooding over a drink. It’s well past when he would normally turn in.
Is he thinking of me? Did something happen?
The thought sends an unwanted thrill through my body. And I have to remind myself that it shouldn’t matter when this could be his last night on earth. Rising slowly from my crouch, I silently twist the doorknob.
It opens, smooth and soundless, and I ease inside, my eyes locked on my target.
He shifts, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his ink-covered skin and bringing one of his dead-eyed skulls to life. Then he tosses back the whiskey, as if resolved to taking his medicine, before pouring himself another glass.
Slipping my knife from its holster, I pad across the marble floor. If I don’t see his face, maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to slit his throat before I can change my mind.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I get within reach of him, and still, he doesn’t turn. Scarcely daring to breathe, I make my move. All at once, I comb the fingers of my left hand into his hair. And as I pull his head back, bringing his warm, powerful shoulders against my torso, I place my blade against his throat.
For one heart-stopping moment, I’m positive I’ve done it—caught him completely off guard. And in that fraction of a second, my muscles tense, rebelling against me as his impossibly green eyes meet mine.
Then his strong fingers wrap around my wrist, and I gasp as he removes the blade from his throat. In one fluid motion, he pulls my arm forward, dipping one shoulder until it connects with my stomach. And he pivots, standing as he slings me up and over.
I gasp, twisting into a somersault to avoid hitting the counter on the flat of my back. And it takes all my strength and balance to slip his grasp. Then I land in a deep crouch, one hand on the cold granite, my knife held at the ready, out to my side.
The frown creasing Killian’s strong brow vanishes, his lips curling into a cocky smile as his eyes spark with fiery anticipation. And he takes an intimidating step forward to grab at me.
I jump, launching myself over his head and performing a front flip so I can land behind him. Again, he’s ready for me, turning while I’m in midair so that he’s facing me when my feet touch the ground.
“God, you’re sexy,” he growls, his gaze ravenous as he settles into a defensive position.
My core tightens, urging me to forget the attempt on his life and instead throw myself into his arms.
But that’s not how our deal works.
And I can’t let my baser instincts get the better of me.
So, instead, I take a running start toward him, and when he grabs for me, I feign to the left.
He dodges, his abs flexing and his ribcage arcing away from my knife. But at the same time, he spins. And his arm snakes around my waist with impressive speed.
I grunt as my back hits his chest, and suddenly, I’m in his embrace. His enticing scent of whiskey, leather, and eucalyptus fills my nose, and my heart skips a beat as my adrenaline shifts to something more primal.
Before I have time to maneuver my blade, his free hand is wrapped around my wrist again. And he brings my arm against my chest with impressive force. I gasp, my stomach clenching as the tip of my knife presses gently against my collarbone.
For the first time, he didn’t just best me. He’s holding me at knifepoint.
His lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. And he purrs, “I’ve been hoping you’d stop by for a bit of fun.”
Killian’s arm tightens around my waist, and heady arousal washes through me as his erection presses against the base of my spine.
I gasp as he whirls me in his arms, releasing my blade so I can do with it as I please.
But he’s already moved on from our cat-and-mouse game. It’s plain to see from the desire burning in his eyes. He’s not worried about disarming me. He already won the match. And though I could easily take advantage of his cockiness and kill him while he’s exposed, I can’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I drop the knife, letting it clatter noisily across the kitchen floor as my excitement consumes me. Bracing my arms against his broad, bare shoulders, I jump up and wrap my legs around his hips.
A moment later, Killian grasps my mask, pulling it off and tossing it aside.
Then lips are on mine, his kiss earnest and demanding.
I groan, that aching emptiness in my chest flooding with warmth as I lean into him. And I claim his lips with just as much passion.
Something must be terribly wrong with me for feeling this way. He’s my family’s nemesis, for Christ’s sake. But I can’t help myself. And right now, I can’t even muster the guilt to regret my actions.
Because I desperately want to feel Killian’s hands all over me.
I want him buried deep in me.
Right now, I want him more than I want my next breath.
And if I’m being honest with myself, I was looking forward to this too. Not just the challenge of besting him in a fight—which seems less and less realistic each time I try. But even conceding to him after he’s won.
I relish the way Killian takes control of my body.
No one’s ever made me want to just let go like he does.
And God, when I do, the intensity of the pleasure he gives me is mind-blowing.
Turning, Killian sets my hips on the edge of the counter, and his fingers find the zipper tab of my bodysuit. He tugs it down, and I’m shrugging out of it before he even has time to give me the command.
Then his lips are on my neck, my chest, his hand lightly curled around my throat as he guides me commandingly back onto the smooth, hard surface of the counter.
I gasp as the shocking cold raises goosebumps across my flesh, tightening my exposed nipples.
And when I’m fully splayed across the counter, Killian releases me. His palm trails a searing path between my breasts and down my belly to finish stripping me of my clothes. He tosses my bodysuit aside and hooks my thighs over his shoulders. And with smoldering eyes that capture mine, he leans in to kiss my clit.
My breaths come hard and fast, my lips parting as I fight to stay silent—because we’re out in the open. I’m completely exposed. If anyone walked in on us now, I would be ruined.
But strangely, I don’t know that I care.
I want this so desperately, I’m tempted to let it happen.
And as Killian’s tongue makes a spine-tingling sweep between my folds, I relax my hold on the last shred of my dignity. I cry out, the pleasure so intense it makes my toes curl against his back. Killian releases a deep hum of approval in response, his hot breath washing across my clit as he tastes my slick arousal.
“I could have you for every meal,” he growls, and his lips close around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he gently starts to suck.
“Oh God, yes!” I gasp, my back arching off the cool counter as my palms press into the hard surface. And my eyes roll into my head as the euphoria leaves me senseless.
Alternating between licking my slit and circling my clit, Killian methodically drives me wild, edging me closer to an orgasm that I can already tell is going to blow my mind.
“Shall I let you come, love?” Killian teases, his strong fingers pressing into my hip bones as he lifts his head to give me a wicked grin.
“ Please, ” I moan, my hips jerking with frustration the instant his lips leave me.
“Then say my name.”
“Mmm, Killian,” I groan, thighs trembling.
He releases me abruptly to stand between my legs. And as my ass finds the edge of the counter, I’m suddenly aligned with the waist of his low-slung joggers.
Killian shoves them down, allowing his cock to spring free.
And with one powerful thrust, he’s inside me.
I sob, pleasure pounding like hot lead through my veins.
“Tell me how much you want me,” he growls, arms hooked beneath my knees as he slides rhythmically in and out of me.
I’m so consumed by lusty need, I’ll confess to just about anything right now, so I plead for him to let me come as I admit just how desperately I want him. Rough fingers brush across my clit, stimulating me even as his swollen tip drives against my G-spot.
Gasping, I sit up, and planting one hand behind me, I wrap the other around the back of his neck to ride his adamant pace. Killian groans, his strong shoulders rippling with tension. He leans forward and captures my lips in a scintillating kiss—and doesn’t miss a beat.
Overwhelmed by how completely he fills me again and again, I pant against his lips.
“Come for me, love,” he growls.
And I do.
The euphoria rips through me like a tidal wave, sweeping away the infernal heat and replacing it with liquid relief. Trembling, I cling to him, riding the waves of ecstasy as my clit flutters against his fingers, my walls milking his rock-hard length.
Killian groans, the sound an agonized kind of pleasure.
And his thrusts slow so he can feel each throbbing aftershock of my orgasm.
“I love it when you come on my cock,” he rasps, his voice tight with the effort to hold back his own release.
I whimper, the strain in his tone releasing a fresh wave of excitement that prolongs my orgasm. He hisses, as if the unexpected vise grip around his hard length just might send him over the edge, and I ache to feel him come inside of me.
But Killian has an iron will and stamina for days.
Which means he won’t come inside of me until he’s good and ready.
And suddenly, I’m ravenous to drive him to that point.
As if hearing my train of thought, Killian scoops me up off the counter. His thick cock slides out of me as he wraps my legs around his waist once more, and he pulls his joggers back up over his hips. Then he carries me, without a scrap of clothing, through his house toward the stairs leading up to his room.
For the first time, I truly don’t care if someone sees me with him.
All I can think about is the searing desire his lips ignite in me and the anticipation of falling into bed with him for a very full night of mind-blowing sex.