Chapter Ten
I tried to call Killian, several times but he ignored every single one, as well as the texts I sent him. It’s still early in the morning, but I know he’ll be awake.
Me: I’m sorry.
Me: We can just forget it ever happened; it was my fault anyway.
One by one, each message I have sent since last night turns blue, showing he’s reading them so I wait for the three dots to appear. But they never come.
Me: Ignoring me won’t change anything. I will just annoy you until you reply to me.
Read immediately. No response.
I groan loudly in frustration. This motherfucker.
I feel awful for what happened, I pushed him too far but, in my defense, I didn’t know that was going to happen. Getting him hard was one thing, making him come? Another thing entirely. It shouldn’t make me feel the power it does, but watching a man come undone without even touching him does something to me.
My thighs still ache, a craving I haven’t been able to satisfy, no matter how many times I touch myself. It’s an itch under my skin, one that cannot be scratched.
Me: Killian, please. Let’s just talk about it.
Texting him is useless but I’m not going to give up. I get he doesn’t like me for whatever reason, but this is ridiculous.
Sloane is still asleep, and the house is quiet and I don’t like it. I have too much time to think, to go over what happened again and again and it’s making my skin crawl with guilt. Leaving my cell on the table, I head for a shower and get changed, running through my routine quickly. I decide on a pair of Levi’s and a white t-shirt, paired with my white sneakers and then I’m grabbing my keys, purse and cell and rushing out the door.
I know exactly what will take my mind off all of this.
The drive across the city doesn’t take too long, it’s early and traffic is light and when the buildings turn to trees and the roads to rolling green hills, I let out a breath of relief. Dark clouds sit on the horizon, a promise of rain to come but for now, the sun is shining, chasing away the early morning chill.
The drive to Sebastian and Willow’s house takes forty minutes and by the time I input the gate code and roll my car up their winding driveway, it’s a more respectable time to visit. They did tell me I could stop by anytime, if they didn’t want me arriving at eight thirty in the morning, then they should have specified that.
I don’t knock as I enter but I hear them the moment I step into the spacious foyer, and I smell breakfast cooking. My brother’s raucous laughter echoes through the house, the sound of his happiness enough to send the guilt gnawing at my stomach away.
“Morning!” I call out chirpily, knowing they would have been notified of my presence when I punched in the code.
“Do you want breakfast?” Willow yells back, “There’s plenty!”
I walk into the kitchen just as she finishes her sentence, looking at where Sebastian cooks while Willow breast feeds Hope, her arms cradling the tiny baby as she sways gently.
“Bast doesn’t know portion control,” I laugh, “So of course there’s plenty.”
My brother rolls his eyes, “You want some or not?”
“Yes please,” I kiss his cheek and then Willow’s before I stroke my finger down Hope’s soft cheek. So perfect, a mixture of both Bast and Willow .
“Everything okay?” Willow asks as we both take a seat at the oversized table, and I reach for the brewed coffee in the pot.
“Fine,” I lie, “Why?”
“You’re here at eight thirty on a Saturday,” She points out.
“Just wanted to see my favorite people,” I say as Bast brings the plates of food to the table, “We all went out last night and I missed you two. I know you’ve got a baby now but it’s not the same without you there.”
Willow drops her bottom lip, “We can do it soon,” She promises, “So, anything happen?”
I feel my cheeks heat, staining with color and where my brother is oblivious, Willow’s eyes widen. But then she knows I have a crush on Killian, I told her a few months back after Killian pulled me off a table at the same club I danced with him at last night. Though that first experience and the most recent are exponentially different.
I subtly shake my head and stab my fork into a piece of bacon, shoving the whole slice into my mouth to cover my tracks, only I start to choke.
Coughing, I reach for my water, trying to chase down the food so I don’t actually die.
“Jeez, Savvy,” Sebastian frowns, “The food isn’t going anywhere. You can take your time.”
He plucks Hope from Willow now that she’s finished feeding and without words, orders Willow to eat her breakfast while he burps the baby and keeps her settled.
“It’s just so good,” I tell him, “You know I love your cooking.”
Willow hides her laughter behind a forkful of eggs, quirking one dark red brow my way. We finish the rest of breakfast without incident, thank god, and I have cuddles with my niece which puts me in a much better mood.
Killian hasn’t replied and I’ve text him several times since I’ve been at Bast’s house. A little much, probably, but this man followed me to work for three days straight so I’m not entirely sure boundaries exist between us.
Which actually gives me an idea.
He gets to turn up at my house whenever he likes, if my brother requests it, he’ll do it. He doesn’t get to just disappear off the face of the earth.
If he won’t accept my calls and texts, then he’s just going to have to deal with me personally.
When Hope goes down for a nap, I say my quick goodbyes to my brother and Willow and then head out to my car. The sky has since blackened, the clouds thick with storms forecasted to hit us soon but it’s still dry, so I hit the gas the moment I’m back on the road and gun it back toward the city.
I know where he lives, I have the code for his house. This isn’t fucking over and I’m going to find out what I did to make him hate me so much.
It doesn’t take me too long to get back but when I finally reach the city, the heavens open, unleashing a downpour of rain while lightening streaks across the sky. I’m not a fan of driving in the rain, one bad accident back in college put me off but it’s okay, I can just drive slow, and Killian’s place is only around the corner.
My wipers are whipping back and forth, trying to clear the water as I pull up to the street outside Killian’s condo and put my car in park before I jump out and dart up the path, finding shelter at the door where I punch in the code and let myself in.
I’m greeted by nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the windows. Killian’s place is clean, modern with sleek furnishing and minimal décor but it suits him, even if it is a little cold. I head to his kitchen first, searching for any sign of him but all I find is a coffee cup, still half full with warm coffee and no sign of the man himself so I go to his large living room where music plays quietly from speakers beneath his large TV.
There is every sign that he is home, but the man himself seems to be missing.
My shoes tap against the hard wood floor of the hall, and I press my hand on one of the handles, going to push the door open when a hand covers my mouth, and my spine hits his hard, warm chest.
I gasp against his hand, startled by his sudden presence. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me at all, not even a breath .
“The fuck are you doing here, Tiny Dancer?” He growls low in my ear, his hand covering my mouth.
My throat works on a swallow as he slowly moves us back down the hall, walking us backwards and further from the rooms.
He finally releases me when we are back in the kitchen and I spin around, whipping my eyes to him only to find him in a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips and nothing else.
Muscles for days.
For days.
And I can’t stop staring at every ridge and edge and valley that carves up his torso, the V that points to the waist band of his pants and the dark trail of hair that travels from his navel downwards. Scars, so many scars, silver with age but a contrast to the olive complexion of his skin. There’s a smattering of hair across his chest and ropes of veins that protrude from his forearms.
“Like what you see?” His deep, rasping voice breaks the trance.
“You’re not bad to look at, I suppose,” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping for nonchalance though I can feel my heart pounding something fierce behind my ribcage.
A grin tugs up his mouth though it is far from kind, “You suppose?”
“I only came here because you’re ignoring me.” I change the subject.
“Is that so?” He plucks up his coffee mug and brings it to his lips and it’s then I notice the paint on his fingers, a mix of reds, whites and greys.
“Yes,” I tilt my chin up, “We should talk about it.”
One dark smudge of a brow lifts, “I’m not sure you understand, Savannah.” His head cocks to the side, “I didn’t reply because I don’t want to talk to you.”
A sharp, pang of pain bursts inside my chest and I flinch at his words, “What the fuck did I ever do to you!?” I yell suddenly, heat encompassing my entire body.
He doesn’t seem fazed by my outburst as his eyes steadily roll down me but then he places his coffee cup down and takes a step toward me.
I take a step back.
With every step he moves closer, I retreat until a wall hits my back and he’s towering in front of me, looking down his nose.
His hand lifts to capture a tendril of hair which weaves between his fingers, all the while my heart is beating like a thousand galloping horses.
Dark eyes bounce around my face, his expression cold, and then he drops my hair and puts his hand on the wall, holding himself as he leans in so close his breath fans across my lips.
My stomach knots with anticipation, toes curling inside my sneakers as I wait for his next move. I can feel his heat pressing against my own skin, and he gets so close, close enough our noses touch and I’m sure he’s about to kiss me.
I wet my bottom lip, my breath stalling in my throat.
“You want to know what you did?” He asks on a whisper, the gravel in his tone scraping against every nerve.
“Yes.” I breathe.
His eyes drop to my lips before lifting again, so dark they seem endless but then he speaks, and it’s like ice cold water has been thrown over me.
“You exist,” He says and pushes himself away, turning his back to me.