16. Millie
The feeling of being trapped jerked me awake from a deep sleep. Blinking my lids open, I struggled against the thick band around my waist and whatever had my legs pinned to the bed. Panic made my breath catch with every thundering heartbeat.
“Shh.” The hair covering my face was moved away, and a lazy kiss was pressed to the side of my head. “It’s me, babycakes. Just me.”
The memory from the last forty-eight hours slammed forward, immediately easing the panic. Killian, that’s whose arm was wrapped around me, whose leg draped over my own. The ache between my legs had a fresh wave of desire surging in my gut, making it twist and turn as the memories of Killian destroying me with his cock before his mouth and tongue consumed my core until I passed out played on repeat.
Destroyed might be a slight exaggeration, but the twinge of pain that flared each time I tried to slip out of Killian’s hold told me that might not be an overstatement.
“Good morning, my Millie.” A smile spread across my lips. Breaking free just enough, I rolled to my side to face him. Hair disheveled, sleepy smile, and droopy lids, morning Killian was adorable. I reached up and tucked a few crazy strands behind his ear. I had never been a fan of long hair on men, but somehow, it made Killian look more like himself than the shorter hair in college.
My fingertips trailed along his plump lips before skimming his cheekbones and eyebrows, memorizing every detail. He wasn’t just handsome; Killian was beautiful. Add in those intense, all-seeing aqua eyes, and it was like he put you in an awestruck trance when you looked at him. But this close, now that the shock of everything had worn off, I saw what he hid from the world.
Exhaustion, fear, anger, and vulnerability, though that last one was probably there just around me.
“Tell me one thing,” I whispered. Outside the windows, the sun barely peeked through the blinds, telling me we didn’t have to move just yet. And I wanted this sweet moment with him, to learn one new thing about the man I never stopped loving. Even when I was married to another man. “One thing that’s new, different about adult you.”
“Only if you agree to do the same.” My hair rasped along the pillow with a quick nod. Killian groaned and rolled to his back, bringing me with him until my head lay on his chest. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the move was deliberate so he didn’t have to look me in the eye as he talked. “There are so fucking many issues and changes, I don’t know where to start.”
I plucked at the T-shirt he still wore and leaned up just enough to arch a brow in question. “Want to start with why you used to strip off your shirt the moment you entered my apartment, claiming it was too hot for clothes, but now you refuse to take this off?”
Palm to the top of my head, he turned me and laid me back on his chest. “Not sure that’s where I want to start our therapy session today, Dr. Anderson.”
I rolled my eyes and pinched his side. His high-pitched squeal sounded through the quiet, and he shifted out of reach. Giggling at the ridiculous sound that escaped him, I did it again, hoping for a repeat. His larger hand engulfed mine and tucked it around his side, holding it in place.
“Naughty girl, didn’t anyone tell you it wasn’t smart to poke the bear?” I shook my head. “Of course not, Dr. I’m-going-on-a-dangerous-assignment-with-the-FBI-even-though-I’ve-never-even-held-a-gun.”
“But I’ll have you and Hunter.” His hold tightened at the mention of the other agent, making me preen just a little. “Okay, so start somewhere easier.”
“Not sure that describes any of my fucked-up issues, but sure.” His fingers drummed along my bare spine. “Oh, I’ve picked up cross-stitching.”
I pushed up onto my elbow and stared down at him, but his gaze was firmly on my exposed breasts. He licked his lips slowly and shook his head. Running a single knuckle down over the now-pebbled tip, he smirked as a full-body shiver overtook me.
“Focus,” I huffed.
“Oh, you do not know how focused I am, babycakes.” His fingers pinched at the tip, eyes flicking up to mine to gauge my reaction. “Is it too much to ask for the rest of our lives that we never leave this bed, and I get to spend every second reminding you whose you are?”
“Yes, because then we’d die of dehydration.”
“Especially you, my Millie.” His hand snaked lower. A single finger dipped into my slick core, making me hiss. “Hmm, so no playing with that pretty pussy today if you’re that sore. We could always try the tit fucking.”
I smacked at his chest with a laugh. “Cross-stitching? That’s so random and oddly cute.”
“I met this female agent once when I worked with another agency.” I stiffened in his arms, all humor gone. His smile, though, grew as if he could sense the jealousy burning through me. “Jealous, baby?”
“What? No.”
I totally was. Even if they weren’t together, she got to see him when I didn’t. It hit me then what he alluded to when he said a different agency. But I didn’t dare ask which one, knowing he probably wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me. Though it added to the overall mystery that surrounded the beautiful man.
“She had a penchant for sharp objects.”
“Like you and that knife.”
“Exactly,” he said, resting his chin on my head. “And she told me it was therapeutic, and you had a weapon handy if ever attacked while cross-stitching. It made so much damn sense that I picked it up, and fuck if she wasn’t right. Though I might switch to crochet; that requires a larger weapon set.”
“Pretty sure you shouldn’t go to the craft store and ask for the large weapons section. You might get security called on you.” His chest vibrated beneath my cheek with his rumbled laughter.
“Your turn, Velma. Tell me something no one else knows. Give me a piece of you that is just mine.”
I sighed. This was Killian. Too damn insightful and all-consuming. He made me feel like I was the only important thing in the world to him and was obsessed with knowing every thought, every dream… everything that made me me.
“I got married because I was lonely, not because I actually saw a bright future with my ex-husband.” His muscular arms tightened as if trying to protect me from my ugly and humiliating truth. “And it worked for a little while. It was nice to have someone to come home to, but then it wasn’t.”
“Why?”
“It felt like more of an obligation than a relationship, especially on the physical side. We started fighting a lot.”
“If he hurt you?—”
My fingers tightened, bunching the soft cotton of his shirt at the anger in his tone. It was oddly comforting. “Not in the way you’re thinking. It was more arguing. He thought we should have more sex than we were, but he wasn’t doing anything to… I don’t know, make me want to, if that makes sense.”
“I really want you to keep going, but not sure how much I can take hearing about you with that fucker,” he grumbled.
My smile grew. “He blamed my disinterest in sex on the books I like to read, which, I mean maybe, but he was also to blame regarding that part of our relationship.”
He hummed a noncommittal response while stroking long, lazy swipes up and down my back. “In what way?”
“It was boring when we were…” I pursed my lips, trying to think of the right word. “I would say intimate, but there was no intimacy between us, so sex. When we had sex, it was so damn monotonous. I wanted to try new things, like in the books I read, and he shut it down. If it wasn’t gentle and in a certain spot on the bed, he?—”
A calloused palm covered my lips. “That’s enough sharing for today, babycakes. There is only so much I can handle.” My tongue snaked out and flicked across his palm. Instead of pulling away like I expected, his hand shifted enough so a single, thick finger speared through my parted lips and slid in and out. “You are my perfect, naughty Millie, aren’t you? Tell me what you want, baby, and I’ll make all those dirty fantasies of yours come true. I won’t stifle you. I’ll help you fucking fly.” His lips pressed against my hair. “Over and over and over again.”
My thighs squeezed together to ease the throbbing, only to wince when the pressure reminded me of his rough treatment the night before. Which I loved. Holy hell, I loved it. Every man I’d been with, especially my ex-husband, treated me like I was this fragile creature. All gentle hands and sweet words when that wasn’t what I wanted at all.
I wanted passion, intensity, the thrill of exploring something new with someone you trusted.
“We have a few hours until your hair appointment. Want to try?—”
The shrill of an incoming call cut him off. With a groan, he slid out from under me and reached toward the floor. Discarded jeans in one hand, he dug through the side pocket and pulled out the still-ringing phone. His brows furrowed at the name on the screen and swiped a thumb across the smooth glass.
“It’s too fucking early, Hunter. What the hell could you need—” He stopped talking at whatever Hunter said on the other end of the line. Killian stiffened, his muscles no longer soft and relaxed. Brows pulled in tight as he nodded along with whatever Hunter communicated on the other end of the call. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense. It’s a good sign that Charlie’s identities are cult-nip but fucking hell, maybe it was too much if they reached out directly.”
My heart leapt up my throat, making it hard to breathe. Scooting to lie back on the pillows, I pulled up the sheet to cover my bare chest and stared at the ceiling. The pressure of what was to come was all but forgotten until now. In Killian’s arms, the reason we were together wasn’t important. With that ill-timed call, now it was.
Tomorrow, we would step into the lion’s den, and the hard work started. Not only faking being Killian’s lush and wayward wife, but searching for Karigan and the other truths. Those families who lost their lives, all because they were sucked into Pastor Paul’s orbit, deserved to have the truth of their deaths exposed.
The mattress shifted, drawing my gaze to where Killian lay back on the pillows beside me, arm tossed over his face.
“It’s too late to ask you not to do this,” he murmured. “But I really fucking hate the idea of you doing this, Millie.” His arm fell to the side, and he turned to face me. “I just connected with you again.” Not sure why it sounded like he stumbled over the word connected or why it seemed like a strange choice of verbiage. “I don’t want you anywhere near these fuckers. After reading everything you found on them, I think they’re more dangerous than anyone realizes.”
“Except me.”
His lips tugged up at the corners. “Except my brilliant, curious, insightful Millie.” His hand palmed my cheek, thumb brushing along my skin in soothing strokes. “But asking you not to go through with this isn’t an option now.” My brows tugged in, not understanding. “Apparently, my hot friend Charlie is way too fucking good at his job. He did everything you suggested for those fuckers to want us for their so-called leadership team, and it worked.”
“Really?”
He shot me an unamused look at the excitement in my tone. “Yes, really. Instead of starting tomorrow at the welcome lunch like everyone else, Pastor Paul himself has invited us to a private dinner with him and several of his sidekicks.”
I pursed my lips to silence the giggle. “I wouldn’t call them sidekicks when we’re there.”
“Mind-controlling assholes?”
I shook my head. “And you thought I was going to be the problem.”
His smile fell, and he swallowed hard. “Tonight. The dinner is tonight.”
Well, fuck.
There went my extra time to overanalyze and prepare for the undercover assignment. Time to prove to everyone, including myself, that I could do this. And I would because if I fucked this up, it wasn’t just my life on the line.
And I refused to let that happen.