CHAPTER 24
DAISY
Ifreeze.
Killian freezes.
Like a big bucket of ice water being dumped over my head, reality comes crashing down on me, effectively dousing the fire that had been raging inside of both of us only seconds ago.
I pull back, blinking down at Killian where he sits beneath me. My legs straddle his, our chests heave in tandem with one another and his swollen lips no doubt mirror mine.
Absentmindedly, my fingers move to my lips. As expected, the violent desperation from our kiss is evident. His eyes are hooded with what I can only describe as longing as he watches my every move.
I can’t believe I did that.
I’m not even sure I’m conscious.
There’s a good possibility that I’m asleep in my bed down the hall and this is all a dream.
The pulse between my legs feels very real, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dreamt something like this only to wake up alone and disappointed.
I have the overwhelming urge to pinch myself, but I hold myself back. If this is real, and I am in fact straddling my ex’s lap with his hard dick gently grinding against my pulsing core then… then what?
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Shit, shit, shit.
What have I done?
“Daisy?” Killian’s voice is hoarse, wary.
Eyes still closed, I shake my head.
This was a mistake.
A big fucking mistake.
What the hell was I thinking, climbing into his lap and mauling him like that? Not only have I embarrassed myself, but I’ve more than likely led Killian to believe this is more than what it is.
I’m just a woman with needs, who has deprived herself of physical touch for years. That’s all this is.
Lie.
I only invited him inside for coffee. I wasn’t expecting anything more from him.
Another lie.
I think somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that inviting Killian into my home, where we would be completely alone, would lead to me doing something foolish like throwing myself at him, but I did it anyway.
I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.
I didn’t expect him to whisper those familiar six little words against my lips and completely tear my heart from my chest.
“I…” with shaky fingers still pressed against my lips, I scramble out of Killian’s lap. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
He blows out a deep breath, his shoulders falling. I watch with wide, watery eyes and red cheeks as Killian stands, his six-foot-three frame towering over me, and rights himself in his jeans.
Bringing his hand to my face, he cups my cheek, his thumb a cool caress against the warm skin. “I’m not.”
One traitorous tear glides down my face as Killian leans in and places a soft kiss on my forehead before whispering, “goodnight, angel.”
And then, he’s gone.
***
“Saturday, seventeenth of July, eleven-forty-two p.m. One message.” The robotic voice of my voicemail crackles in my ear before being replaced with the husky drawl my heart would be able to pick out in a room full of white noise.
“Dais, it’s me. I’ve called you a hundred times now.
I don’t know what happened today, but please…
” the hitch in his voice, much like it has every time I’ve listened to this message, causes something to crumble in my chest. “Please, angel, just call me back. I need to know that you’re okay. I love you, Daisy.”
And just like it does every time, the line goes dead, and just like I do every time, I stare at the phone in my hands as silent tears roll down my cheeks.
I’ve listened to that same message every day since I left. Why? Because it’s the last time Killian told me he loved me.
Every message that he left after that got increasingly angrier. His distraught questions soon turned into angry demands for answers. The late night, alcohol fuelled texts filled with why’s became sober messages of acceptance. Until eventually, they became less frequent.
I stopped listening to them months ago. I couldn’t bear hearing his love for me slowly fade away with each message only to be replaced with resentment.
As if he can hear my thoughts, my phone vibrates in my hand, Killian’s name flashing across the screen. The traitorous organ in my chest flutters behind my ribcage and my stomach dips. I cast a quick look at the alarm clock on my bedside table.
Ten-fifty-five p.m.
My fingers move of their own accord, swiping the answer button and placing the call on loudspeaker.
I hold my breath.
“Daisy?”
Another tear escapes my eyes at the desperate slur in his voice.
He’s drunk.
It makes sense. He wouldn’t have called me otherwise. It’s been months since his last call.
I say nothing, silently watching the seconds tick higher on the call.
“Are you there?” Killian pleads.
My chest heaves with a sob and I hold a hand over my mouth to stop the sound escaping.
“Fuck, I miss you so much, Daisy. Please talk to me.”
I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a choked gasp and the coward in me hits the red button, ending the call.
The sob I’d been holding back tears from my chest in a pained cry.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, but it doesn’t matter, he won’t hear it.