Chapter Twenty-nine
F or the past three days Killian has disappeared into the studio for hours at a time, making me promise not to go in there until he says so. The curiosity is killing me.
It’s been tense between us. He is still here, we are still sleeping in the same bed, eating together, watching TV and acting like a couple. I don’t even know if we are a couple, but it feels like it. Except no one else knows it.
It makes me feel dirty.
Have I lost you already, Tiny Dancer?
Not yet.
Because no matter how much it hurts, I can’t let it go.
I fear I’ll always be in the shadows, a dirty little secret the world can never know.
I can hear Killian working beyond the door to the studio while I sit at the kitchen table, my laptop open while I watch a dance routine on the screen. He’s been in there since eight this morning and only comes out to kiss me and get coffee, always covered in a mix of pink and purple paint.
It hasn’t even occurred to me to be worried about what he is doing in there. Despite the hurt in my heart, I trust him. I’ve always trusted him.
I start the video from the beginning again, watching myself as I dance on the stage. When the sun begins to set, bringing with it a storm that’s supposed to last a few days, I close down my laptop and decide to distract myself by making dinner. Cooking has never been my strong suit, but I do make a mean mac and cheese, so I pull out all the ingredients and start to prepare it.
It's just being placed into the oven to crisp up the top when Killian emerges from the studio. I close the oven and turn my attention to him, ready for the hourly kiss and disappearing act again except he just stands there.
“You okay?” I ask.
His eyes flick around my face while his own is splattered with paint, his hands covered in it, the white tee and sweats he has on much the same. There’s something endearing about Killian covered in paint, almost innocent with the way a streak of pink clings to a single strand of hair that falls over his forehead, like he’s tried to push that one piece out of his face only to cover it in paint. There’s a smear of purple under his left eye and more strokes up his arms.
“Do you want to see?”
“Am I allowed?” I breathe, stepping forward in anticipation.
He nods, “I’m done.”
“What is it?” I ask, closing the space between us. He immediately lifts his hands to cup my face, the tender way he does a pull on my heart as if trying to mend the broken pieces our secret is leaving behind.
He leans in and gently presses his mouth to mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I open to allow him access, melting into him as he deepens the kiss and steals my breath.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll paint over it,” He mumbles against my mouth.
“Show me,” I plead softly.
Letting me go, he grips my hand and moves us into the studio. The lights are off inside, plunging the room into darkness but before I can flick the switch to turn on the lights, his body is behind mine, chest pressing to my spine.
“Are you ready?” He whispers, his breath teasing against the shell of my ear .
“Yes.”
I feel him shift and then the light comes on, stinging my eyes momentarily before they have a chance to adapt. And then I see it and it steals the breath from my lungs.
I don’t know what to think, what to feel as I stare at the piece of art ahead of me.
It’s a thousand periwinkle sunsets, sunsets I chase, the colors a blend that soothes a part of my soul. Streaks of paint represent the sun hidden behind fluffy clouds in a hue of pinks and purples. Every curve, shadow, and highlight has been painstakingly added, the level of detail making it look like a photo rather than a painting.
“You did this?” My voice shakes as I speak and I hadn’t even realized I’d started to cry but there’s a fat, warm tear rolling down my cheek. I can’t take my eyes off of the piece. It covers the entirety of the wall, edge to edge, every section different from the last.
“For you,” Killian runs his fingers up the side of my neck. “Do you like it?”
“I – ” I suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm the erratic way my heart is pounding. “Killian.”
“You think I don’t see the way you watch the sky?” He says, “I noticed it way before this ever began, Tiny Dancer. Your soul seems at peace the most when the sky looks like this. This is your favorite color, your favorite time of day.”
Another tear rolls down my cheek and drips off my chin, “Yes.”
“You watch the way the sun streaks out of the clouds but all I see is the way the light reflects in your eyes.” His fingers comb through my hair, “I love the way you watch the sunset Savannah. Like you’re seeing it for the first time every time you look at it.”
“You noticed all that?” I turn to him only to see he is already looking at me.
“You’re a never-ending book, every time I think I’ve reached the end, there’s another chapter when I turn the page and I can’t stop reading, Savannah.”
The embers of us are burning hot and bright, turning into an inferno inside of me. My soul is tied to this man.
“Kiss me,” I beg, stepping closer to him.
His dark, fathomless eyes bounce around mine, for once they’re windows, looking into the complex web that makes this man who he is. He is raw and open, and seeing it only makes me fall deeper.
I am in love with Killian Archer and my soul be damned, I’d follow this man through flames and destruction just to chase this feeling inside of me. It’s consuming me entirely.
And then he lunges, his hands cupping my face as his lips descend. I fall into him with a desperation that makes my whole-body ache, matching each stroke of his tongue with my own, devouring him as greedily as he is me .
He presses us together until our heartbeats clash furiously and all I can do is hold on. My fingers curl into his paint wet clothes and I feel it smear into my skin from his hands on my cheeks, the smell of it mixing with the scent of him. I should probably worry about getting it all over the place but all I can think of right now is letting him own me.
I want to feel him in the fabrics of my being, threaded into me until there’s no untangling him. Before I even realize we’re moving, my back hits the wall of mirrors, arched at an angle since there’s a pole that runs horizontally in front of it, but Kill only uses that to his advantage as he grinds his hips forward, pressing his hard cock into me.
“You feel what you do, baby?” He rasps as his teeth bite down onto my bottom lip. The pain is a shock that quickly turns to pleasure when his tongue soothes the sting. “So fucking hard for you. I cannot get enough.”
“Then take,” I offer, “I’m yours, Killian.”
“Oh, I know,” He smiles against my mouth, “You’ve always been mine.”
“Prove it,” I challenge, “ Please. ”
He pulls away from me suddenly, keeping me crowded against the mirror with his arms caging me in but he’s put enough space between our bodies, cold air rushes between us, sending goosebumps over my skin. Desire burns bright inside of me, my thighs aching with need. He makes me fucking crazy.
“You have such pretty manners, Savannah,” He praises as his hands go to the hem of my shirt, “Arms up.”
I lift my arms so he can pull the shirt over my head before he throws it behind him, leaving me bare from the waist up. His eyes roam over my torso, lingering on my bare breasts, my nipples peaked and aching for his touch.
“Stay right here.” He commands as he grips my wrists and forces me to hold onto the railing on either side of me. I watch him take a step back before he crosses to a still open paint pot and dips one hand and then the other inside. Palms coated in light purple paint, he walks back toward me, a hunger in his eyes and determination in his step. The way he stalks toward me is more animal than man, and I am the prey in this situation.
“Turn around and face the mirror.” He orders.
With a tremor in my limbs, I turn to the mirror, meeting his eyes in the reflection as he stops behind me.
“My masterpiece,” He murmurs as he brings his hands around my body and cups my breasts, palming them until two perfect handprints are left behind by the paint. The color is a stark contrast to my skin, his hands so large they cover me entirely, painting me his. “You see what I see?” He asks.
He smears some of the paint down my abdomen, running a line to my naval.
“What?”
“Perfection,” He rasps as he hooks his hands into the waist of my leggings and tugs them down my legs, taking my underwear with them. “Art.” Paint smears across my legs as he runs his hands back up, cupping my hips and yanking me back abruptly. He grinds his cock into my ass, eyes fluttering a little as he falters. “I will never tire of looking at you.” He tells me to the mirror while he loosens the pressure of one of his hands and traces two fingers inwards, toward my pussy. “I will never tire of this.”
I am drenched, my pussy tensing and squeezing around nothing. I push my ass back onto him, urging him to do something .
“I love when you’re desperate for me, Savannah.” He grins, “So impatient and needy. You wet for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I hiss out on a breath.
The heat of his hands leaves my body for a moment and behind me, he rips his own clothes off, leaving him as naked as me as the head of his cock, wet with his precum nudges against my ass cheek. I tense, not knowing but willing.
“Not today,” He answers as if I said it out loud, “I want you to watch me sink into this tight body of yours. I want you to see what you do to me, what we look like.”
My breath comes out in needy, heavy pants, “I need you.”
“You have me, baby” He promises, “Now hold onto the rail and do not close your eyes.”