20. Millie
Something was off about Killian’s behavior that had nothing to do with the asshole he needed to portray.
His thick fingers that were still wrapped around the back of my neck had turned clammy, flexing and twitching against my skin like he couldn’t relax. In the four-seater golf cart, he’d put as much distance as he could between us before tugging me against him, only to push me away once again. It was as if he fought a battle only he could see and feel.
I’d seen similar reactions before during the clinical hours required for my various degrees. Those with trauma or PTSD fought an internal war only they knew about. Even if two people went through the same incident, they would deal with the aftereffects differently. One thing was certain: My friend needed help, someone to listen and not judge. I would need to balance being his friend and falling into my schooling once we finally had a chance to talk alone.
I’d walk that line, anything to help him, so he wouldn’t feel he was alone in that fight. I might not have gone through what he did, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t stand with him. It would be difficult. Some people even turned violent during sessions because they were so angry at the world and what happened to them. But I trusted Killian, knew no matter how angry or volatile he became, I was safe.
I always was with him.
Killian had always been my protector, even when I didn’t realize I needed one.
“I’ll be back to collect you tomorrow at noon to drive you both to the welcome lunch.” The security guy handed Killian the key to our adorable cottage. “Your luggage was delivered earlier and is waiting for you inside.” Turning to Hunter, he hitched his chin toward the cart. “I’ll wait.” With that, he slid behind the wheel and pulled out his phone, thumbs flying over the screen.
Without a word, Killian shoved open the door and motioned for Hunter to go in first. When I tried to follow, a thick arm wrapped around my shoulders, yanking me against a hard chest.
“Let him clear it first,” he whispered into my hair. His arm relaxed its tight hold when I nodded, not fighting him.
A shiver raced down my spine, goose bumps raised along my skin as a powerful gust of chilly wind whipped through the small porch, though it brought the sweet scents of the blooming trees and spring flowers. Taking the moment, I scanned the area, noting the few cottages spread out around us like a tiny little village in the middle of the massive compound. Tall, thick trees swayed in the strong wind, the limbs creaking through the darkness, adding a creepiness factor.
“Clear, sir,” Hunter clipped when he appeared at the door. “Do you need anything before I head out?”
Knowing we had someone listening nearby, I kept my mouth shut and waited for Killian to respond for us.
“Be back around eight. I have some work to get done and can’t waste my time babysitting this one.” With a sharp nod, Hunter moved past us, careful not to touch Killian or me, and hopped into the cart. I watched them drive off into the dark, stomach dipping with worry.
“Will he be okay?” I whispered.
Killian only grunted a response and ushered me inside. The moment the door closed behind us, his touch disappeared. I tracked Killian as he prowled around the small living room, searching the walls, outlets, and air ducts, before getting on his hands and knees to inspect the lower half of the room. With more grace than I could ever attempt, he leapt up and headed into what I assumed was the bedroom. I stood frozen by the front door as he did what he needed to do to ensure we were safe.
A relieved exhale blew past my lips when he reemerged, only to stiffen when those aqua eyes met mine. Even from across the room, his radiating tension was palpable. Not breaking my stare, he struggled out of his suit coat, balling it up and throwing it across the room like it was suddenly poisonous. His tie followed, fluttering to the pile of expensive material.
Killian’s chest heaved with every deep breath. Ripping the hair tie free, he raked his fingers through the long strands, fisting at the scalp. Alarm pulsed through me, setting my feet in motion. A foot away, he tossed up a hand, stopping me in my tracks. Eyes wild, he lunged for the remote sitting on the coffee table. The moment the TV flicked on, he jammed his thumb to the volume button until the voices of the show rang in my ears.
The remote clattered to the floor at Killian’s feet as he dropped, ass perched on the edge of the coffee table. Bent forward, hands in his hair and face towards the carpet, I couldn’t read his emotions, which kept me frozen where I stood. But when he looked up, the panic and brokenness in his normally self-assured and strong features had me dropping to my knees in front of him. The second my palms settled over his thighs, a sharp hiss whistled through his clenched teeth. Immediately, I jerked back, not wanting to add to the panic that was slowly dragging him under.
“Talk to me,” I said, hoping he heard me over the blaring voices pouring from the TV. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
His head shook back and forth, but he shot me a pleading look. One I’d seen before and knew exactly what it meant. He wanted my help but wasn’t sure how to get there, how to open up that deep, dark chasm of pain that he’d spent so much time and energy keeping locked away.
“Start with what triggered you.” Careful to keep my movements slow, I inched closer and pressed up on the wooden table to sit beside him. Palm upturned on my knee, I left it there, giving him the option if he wanted physical contact. “Was it Pastor Paul?” He didn’t move. “Did Simon say something while you were alone?” Again, nothing. My mind raced through the events of the night, attempting to pinpoint when I noticed the change from the fake narcissist persona to the bleeding panic.
The woman, her touch, or maybe the way she offered herself in front of him. That was when he changed. And his reaction to my touch just now solidified the theory. It didn’t help much, but at least I knew not to force my comforting touch on him. I needed to wait for him to reach out, for that contact to be initiated by him. So I waited. Palm up on my bouncing knee, I waited, giving him all the time he needed to unscramble his thoughts that the panic caused. If he even wanted to do that now…. Maybe he wasn’t ready. That was one thing I realized early on: You couldn’t force someone to show you the darkest parts of themselves. They had to be ready for that trust to be there between the two parties. It hurt a little, thinking Killian didn’t trust me enough to?—
“I’m so messed up, Millie.” My heart splintered at his defeated tone. Never had I heard that from him, but still, I stayed, not wrapping my arms around him in a massive hug like I wanted. “There is a lot I can’t share, not because I don’t trust you, but because it would put you in danger.” I nodded like I understood, even though I didn’t. He shifted just a little, angling his body more toward mine. “The agency I was with before…” Killian trailed off like the memories suddenly swarmed his every thought. He shook his head. “They made me use any tactic necessary to get the information we needed. Important information that, in most cases, had the potential to save thousands of lives.”
I swallowed hard. Maybe I read too many spy novels, but it seemed like Killian hinted at him being an asset with the CIA. Which made his disappearance, his controlling father, and me not being able to find anything online about Killian, all of it, make so much more sense. He didn’t disappear into a cult like I assumed; he disappeared into a government-run agency who trained valuable spies.
Oh, shit.
My eyes widened.
I sat beside a trained killer. A spy.
It should scare me, but it only made him more alluring. Maybe I had a death wish or no self-preservation skills, but knowing that sliver of information made me want Killian that much more.
“I did things,” he rasped. “Things I’m not proud of.” His hands curled into tight fists, the color bleeding out of the scarred knuckles. “But the worst was…” In a flash, he was up and bent over the trashcan beside the small desk, emptying what little he ate during the awkward dinner. My knees bounced in rapid succession. The edge of the table bit into my palms as I fought the urge to comfort him. “It’s amazing what people will tell you after sex.” He fell to the side, leaning back against the wall, and slid down until his ass hit the carpet. “I hated every second of it, but I couldn’t let the mask drop. And now… I’m so fucked up that what happened tonight sent me into this. I can kill without a second thought, but the memories of seducing terrible men and women for information reduce me to this pathetic piece of shit.”
Forearms on his bent knees, he dropped his chin to his chest, that long blond hair acting like a wall between us. Not wanting to stand over him, I scooted off the table, dropped to my hands and knees, and crawled. An inch separated us when I sat back on my heels, palms sealed to my thighs.
“Was it the way she touched you, or her touch in general?” I asked so softly, worried he didn’t hear me over the TV.
“Both.” Anger like I never felt before flooded my veins, heating me from the inside out. How fucking dare she. How fucking dare she touch him without his consent. Only for all the anger to evaporate, leaving me hollow.
“I’m so sorry, Killian.” My voice cracked. “I’ve touched you so many times without even?—”
His hands lashed out and wrapped around my shoulders, dragging me between his spread thighs. Arms banded around my back, sealing me to him. Face pressed to his neck, I moved with each of his quick, ragged breaths.
“No,” he snapped. “Your touch is the only one I can stand, the only one that doesn”t immediately make disgust and rage consume me.” Even though his words were said with conviction, I remained frozen in his hold, too afraid to touch him. “Please don’t.” His chest vibrated with what felt like a choked breath.
“Don’t what, Killian?” When he didn’t respond, I carefully pulled away to stare into those eyes that could see into my soul. “I’m trying to tread carefully to respect your boundaries?—”
“I don’t want fucking boundaries between us,” he growled. “I’m fucking yours, all of me. I’ve always been yours.” Something flashed in his eyes. “And you’ve always been mine.”
A hand slid up the back of my neck and fisted my hair. My lips parted in a gasp as my face tipped to the ceiling. Soft lips ghosted along the sensitive skin of my throat. The skim of his lips and nip of his teeth made my core clench around nothing. Eyes closed, savoring every sensation, a desperate whimper escaped.
“You still want me, babycakes? Want all the fucked-up parts of me?” His hand snaked under the hem of my long skirt and slid up a leg, fingertip brushing along my inner thigh and dipping beneath the soaked scrap of lace covering me. “Your body wants me, but what about you, Millie?” He jerked my head so our gazes clashed. The vulnerability behind his eyes had me melting into him. “Do you still want me?”
“Of course,” I whispered, lids falling closed as a single finger teased at my slick entrance. “Nothing has changed. You’re still my Killian. Still the man I trust, the man who will keep me safe no matter what, the man I want. Desperately.”
His body shuttered beneath me. Lips against my ear, he sucked the lobe before nipping at the tip. “Tell me a dark truth.” I squirmed, shifting to push that teasing finger into my needy core, only to groan in frustration when he withdrew his hand. “A dark truth, Millie.”
Desire and need swamped my brain, making my thoughts sluggish. Once again, that finger slid along my slick center, this time circling my swollen clit with a barely there touch.
“I don’t know.” His lips sealed to my throat, tongue flicking against my racing pulse. How many times had I envisioned something like this happening with him? My dark truth hit me so hard it stole my breath. I licked my lips and sealed my eyes shut, hating to admit this out loud, but I knew telling him my ultimate secret would only bring us closer. He was so damn vulnerable right now and needed me to be right there with him. And for Killian, for the amazing man I’d always loved, I would.
“He was too gentle,” I rasped. “Too careful and focused on himself.” A low growl rattled in Killian’s chest, knowing exactly who I spoke about. “There were times when he’d made me feel so bad about us not having sex that I caved, despite despising his touch. Then after he was done and asleep…” I swallowed a moan as that finger pressed harder, the pressure everything but not enough. “I’d roll over and finish myself off.”
His hum vibrated along my skin. “Tell me everything. I want all the details, every dirty fucking one.” I shivered, my body trembling with the rising need that had nowhere to go. Still, his finger teased, and his lips skimmed along my throat. “What would you think about?”
“You,” I breathed. “I imagined you. That my hand and fingers were yours. I remember everything from that night, tried to replicate the way you had touched me.”
“But it was never quite right,” he said with an almost sinister chuckle. “Because only I can make you feel like this, Millie. Only I know how to make this perfect, tiny body sing. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, causing soft pink strands to stick to my sweaty forehead and cheek.
“Because you’re mine.”
My lips parted, but not a word escaped, just a sharp breath. That teasing finger slid along my drenched slit and thrust into my needy center. A moan escaped when he added another finger, then another, the full feeling almost too much. I squirmed, knees sliding out wider to give him room to move.
One hand still in my hair, he tugged until my back arched, chest thrusting outward.
“Lift your top,” he rasped, and I immediately obeyed. “Now pull those lacy cups down so I can see those fuckable tits.” My hands skimmed along the soft curves of my breasts before tugging the demi cups down. The material dug into my skin, but the discomfort only added to the array of sensations inching me higher.
The tip of his tongue circled the pebbled tips over and over. My hips followed the motion, grinding myself down onto his fingers.
“More,” I whined, the sound so damn desperate and needy.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered before nipping at one nipple with enough bite to hurt. My core squeezed around his fingers. “I know exactly what you need.”
And he did. Sucking one nipple between his lips, he pressed the heel of his hand down hard on my clit at the same time those three fingers curled, stroking a spot inside me that had stars dancing behind my closed lids. The assault of sensations hit me all at once, shoving me over the edge into pure, pulsing bliss. I tightened around him, lips parted with a silent scream, desperate to squeeze out every drop of pleasure.
With one last shudder, my taut muscles relaxed, my body slumping forward, only held up by Killian’s hold on my hair. With more care than I expected, he guided me forward until I pressed against his chest. A soft sigh brushed past my lips as I snuggled against him. The events of the day finally catching up to me.
“Sleep, my Millie,” Killian whispered against my hair.
“What about you?” I muttered, already almost asleep.
“We have all the time in the world. Now that I have you, I’ll never let you go.”
Something tickled in the back of my brain as sleep swallowed me whole.
Why did he say have instead of found?