Chapter Fifty-seven
S he looks so fucking pretty standing there in that silky black dress, her blonde hair styled in curls around her face, cheeks pinkened by the cold, and blue eyes wide and on me.
“I lied to myself,” I continue talking, “Told myself I could let you go, that I could let you live the life you deserve and find happiness with someone else, but I was wrong. I have loved you from the moment you came back from college, watched you when I knew I couldn’t have you and was haunted by you. I pushed and pushed, attempting to deny what I felt, but when it comes to you, Savannah, I’m a weak man.”
Her delicate throat works on a swallow.
“I should have known from the first painting that I was done for,” I start to move to the wall closest to me, where I have mounted the art that I have created of her. I rip the first sheet off, revealing the very first portrait I ever painted of her. She gasps, the breathy sound sending a chill over my skin. “Painting is an escape for me, art tells a story, and I had so many words I wanted to say but every time I tried to create something new, it was you that stepped off the canvas.”
I take the next sheet off, showing a painting of her in a studio, her body frozen against the canvas as she dances.
I keep going, revealing each painting, showing her that even if it isn’t me for her, she is it for me.
“I made the wrong choice with you, Savannah,” I take the final sheet off, “And I want to fix it.”
“You did all these?” She breathes.
“You are my story, Savannah. There is no one else but you.”
“Killian, I–” She sucks in a shaky breath, a single fat tear rolling down her cheek. I eat up the space between us, until I can capture that tear with the pad of my thumb.
“You hate me,” I whisper, “I understand. I hurt you and there’s nothing I can do to take that back but if I could, I would.”
“I don’t hate you,” She murmurs. “I wish I could.”
My thumb rolls across her cheek, “Then what do you want, Savannah? ”
“I want you to want me as much as I want you, Killian. I want you to choose me.”
“I think we are way passed that, sweetheart,” I breathe and grasp her hand, moving it until her dainty palm rests over my frantically beating heart. “This is yours.”
“I miss you,” She says softly.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I will earn your forgiveness.” I promise her.
“Killian,” She flicks her eyes between mine, “Kiss me.”
I don’t waste another second. I’ve gone too long without her, gone too long without her taste and her touch. Nothing makes sense without her, and I was a damn fool to think it did.
So, I let my mouth crash against hers, I steal her tears, tasting them on my tongue and vow to never, ever be the cause of her tears again.
She holds onto me as if her whole world will collapse beneath her if she doesn’t and opens when I test my tongue against the seam of her lips. I swallow down her whimpers, hold onto her like she is the lifeline. I breathe her in, consume her.
No more secrets.
No more lies.
“I love you,” I groan against her mouth, “I love you so fucking much.”
“I know,” She whispers, “I love you too.”
“I will keep loving you,” I vow.
“Killian,” She whispers my name like it’s a plea.
“What do you need?”
“You,” She begs, “Make it go away. Make it stop hurting but please, please , don’t hurt me again.”
“Never,” I grasp her behind her thighs and lift, her legs going around my waist and her arms around my neck as she slants her mouth over mine. Her tears continue to fall but her kiss never ceases. I walk us until I feel the table and then gently lower her onto it, slotting myself between her thighs as her dress slides up her legs.
“Tell me you want this,” I demand.
“I want you,” She trembles as I push her legs further apart, watch the dress rise even more until the triangle of her lace panties comes into view.
I shiver as her words work through me and then let my hand wander up her soft thigh until I press my thumb to her clit above the lace. She jerks at the touch, her neck stretching as she tilts her head back.
“I choose you,” I rasp, working my thumb in soft circles, “I will choose you, over and over again.”
Her nails claw against the tabletop as her spine arches, “Please.” She gasps.
“I’ve fucking missed you, Tiny Dancer,” I take my thumb away only to slip my fingers in at the edge of her underwear, finding her slick and wet and warm. “It feels like you’ve missed me too.”
“I have,” She cries as I pinch her clit between my fingers.
“I want to take my time with you,” I rasp, “But I don’t think I can.” My cock presses hard against the zipper of my pants, aching and fucking desperate.
“Then don’t,” She meets my gaze, “Don’t take your time, fuck me, now Killian.”
“Goddamn,” I groan as I rip at my pants to free myself. “Pull your panties to the side.”
She slips her hand between her legs and tugs the material out of the way for me, exposing her soft, warm center. Cock in hand, I jerk myself once before I notch the head of me inside of her, forcing her legs to widen even more to accommodate the size of me.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I growl, keeping myself leashed as her cunt flutters around the head of my cock.
“I’m yours,” She attempts to push at my ass to force me inside of her, but I keep steady.
“Always,” I rasp.
“Yes, fuck,” She growls, “Always.”
“Good girl,” I thrust forward, hard, hard enough her body jolts up the table and then bend myself over her, framing her face in my hands as I steal her mouth. I roll my hips slowly, purposefully, forcing friction against her.
“Killian,” She whimpers.
“That’s right,” I kiss the corner of her mouth, “Say it again.”
“Killian,” She repeats, my name a prayer.
“I love you,” I say it again.
She moans into my mouth as if the words are enough, so I say it again and again. I work her through it, keeping my hips moving as I keep telling her and when she detonates beneath me, I say it again, keeping her at the peak as I climb up behind her.
I only stop when she kisses me hard enough her teeth nip my lip and my cock jerks, pleasure running down my spine before I spill into her.
I bear my weight on my arms as I tuck my face against the curve of her neck and breathe, the first real, clear breath I have taken since her accident all those weeks ago.
“Let me take you home,” I whisper against her skin.
“Will you stay?” She asks.
“Whatever you want, you can have,” I push up so I can look down at her, “You want me to stay and never leave, that’s what I’ll do. You want me to go and come back tomorrow, then that’s what we do.”
“Stay,” She whispers, “Please.”
I nod, kissing her gently and then slowly pull out of her, helping her to right herself and then get her up off the table.
“Ready?” I ask.
“What about all of this?” She glances at the paintings on the walls.
“It’s yours,” I tell her. “I own the building but it’s yours.”
Reaching into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out the set of keys and hand them to her. “Whenever you question my devotion to you, I want you to come here. I want you to look at how badly you haunt me. I want you to see the love I have for you in every stroke of paint, and I want you to see that my obsession and my love for you will forever be immortalized in these paintings.”