Chapter Eleven
I turn to her as pain and humiliation twist her face, her cheeks brightening with color before her eyes fill with tears. I lean my hip on the counter and bring my now cold coffee to my lips, draining the rest of it.
It’s best she thinks I hate her. Best she thinks it’s her existence that irks me rather than the fact that she’s an obsession I cannot keep track of. It grows and climbs and expands with every fucking second, I can never find the beginning of it or the end. There are roots inside of me, buried so deep there’s no way to rid myself of the problem.
Fucking coming in my damn pants when her sweet little body rubbed up against me is one thing but now she’s here, reminding me of how it felt. In those tight as fuck blue jeans, the denim clinging to her every curve with her white tee tucked and long blonde hair left down.
So damn pretty. Entirely too young and completely off limits.
Perhaps if Sebastian wasn’t her brother and my best friend, I could let the ten-year age gap go but this is the card I have been dealt with.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” She hisses at me, swatting angrily at the tears dropping down her pink cheeks.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I grumble, glancing to the window to see rain pelting against it, the sky dark and ominous as the storm is fully unleashed. I hadn’t even noticed one rolling in.
Her blue eyes narrow, tears still falling but then she shakes her head, “I don’t know why I try with you.” She snaps before she turns for the door and storms from the room.
A sudden wave of anxiety hits me, dread sinking like a weight into the pit of my stomach. Her place is twenty minutes across the city, it’s raining, she’s crying…
“Fuck!” I growl as I start after her.
The door is open by the time I turn the corner and Savannah is gone.
“Savannah!” I roar, setting off in a run after her to find her stomping down the path toward her car parked on the street. She’s drenched through already, white tee clinging to her, hair soaked.
“Savannah!” I yell but she doesn’t stop.
I run down the path after her, grabbing her upper arm before she can open her car door.
“What!?” She yells, “What do you want!?”
“You’re not driving like this,” I state harshly, water running down my own face, the rain coming down in torrents, flooding the streets and turning the day dark.
“Like you give a shit, Killian,” She tries to yank away from my grip, but I don’t give up that easily. “Let me go!”
“You are not driving like this!” I snap at her, “Get back in the fucking house!”
“Get fucked.”
I have her pinned to the car in the next breath, “I will put you over my shoulder, Savannah.”
In a matter of seconds, her face loses all emotion, her pain, her humiliation, her anger , it all just slips away and staring back at me is a woman void of feeling. And then she laughs.
“Try it,” She challenges.
God fucking damn it.
I feel my nostrils flare once as my teeth grind painfully together. Fine .
Leaning down quickly, I have my shoulder at her abdomen before she has time to react and lift her, throwing her over my shoulder as the rain continues to batter us both.
“Killian!” She screeches.
My feet pad through the puddles already on the ground, hair sticking to my forehead as I walk the short distance back to my house, the whole time she slams her tiny fists against the base of my back.
Once inside, I dump her down onto the couch but she’s up in a second, lifting a hand as if to strike me.
I don’t give her the chance.
“Don’t play games you’re not ready to win, Tiny Dancer,” I warn her, “You’re not driving in this weather in your state. Wait it out.”
“I hate you,” She spits.
The words should sting, but they don’t because I know they’re a lie. I know how she feels about me, I catch the looks, the longing and I recognize it because I see it in myself.
“I wish you did,” I lower my tone, “Truly. But we both know you don’t.”
“I am going home.”
“Don’t make me lock you in here, Savannah.”
There’s a pregnant pause, a battle of wills but then she drops her eyes and her shoulders sag. I hate it, every second of it but I’d rather do this than her driving in a storm.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” I release her, “You can clean up.”
“How long?” She asks quietly.
“For what?” I move toward the kitchen to get another pot of coffee started.
“That I have to stay here. How long?”
“Until the storm passes.”
“That could be hours,” She huffs.
“Then hours it’ll be,” I shrug.
Savannah disappears into the bathroom to get herself dried from being in the rain so while the coffee brews, I head toward the spare room that I left open after I caught her sneaking through my house. The door is cracked since I didn’t get a chance to close it and the painting I was working on is on display, propped on the easel, paint pallet resting on the stool.
The piece is unfinished, it’s just a mix of red and white and grey on the canvas but I see the shape. The body donned in a red dress, a crowd around her as the lights kiss her skin and she dances with an effortless grace I’ve never seen anyone but her possess.
I’ll come back to it when I am alone, but for now, I shut the door and turn the key, locking it before I pocket it and make my way back to the kitchen in time for Savannah to wander back through .
She is still soaked, her tee clinging to the shape of her.
“You’re still wet.” My fingers bite into the marble counter as I realize the white tee is entirely see through and she is not wearing a bra.
I get a glare in response.
My eyes drop to the dark spots where her nipples are, finding them peaked and pressing against the material while she scrunches a towel to the ends of her long hair, darkened now it’s wet.
“Get changed,” I demand. I can’t stand here with her looking like that. My cock is already semi hard and to be fucking taunted by her body, in my own home is just torture. I don’t know what god I pissed off for it to come to this but when I find out, I’ll be sure to atone for whatever misdeed I have committed.
“This is all I have to wear Killian,” Her hands land on her hips, “What the fuck do you expect me to do?”
“Get one of my t-shirts and sweats,” I grumble, “I don’t care, but get changed.”
She murmurs something under her breath as she turns and trudges away, slamming my bedroom door behind her. I should have let her go, she’s not stupid and would have been fine driving in the storm.
I tell myself it’s because Sebastian would never forgive me if I let her go and something happened to her but truthfully, I didn’t want to let her go with her upset with me. I deserved it of course .
I pour us both a cup of coffee and place hers on the counter, adding the single sugar and drop of milk I know she likes.
Only when she returns from changing, my tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth.
This fucking woman is going to be the death of me. There’s no doubt about it.
She’s changed, as requested, but is no longer wearing pants.
My white tee falls to around mid-thigh on her, and then it’s just all leg.
“Your sweats fall off,” She tells me before she spots the coffee on the counter, “Oh, is this for me?”
“Yes,” I grind out.
“Thanks,” She says chirpily, seemingly over the little spat minutes ago. Her eyes flick to the windows, seeing the rain still coming down in heavy torrents, “Any idea when the rain will stop?”
Soon, I hope. “No.”
“Man of many words,” She cradles her cup, “So what should we do?”
If she had any fucking idea of the things I want to do, she’d be out that door, regardless of the storm. My mind is a messy place but when she’s around, it becomes a little easier to be inside of it.