Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Haz
Kieran strode into the bedroom, carrying a wooden tray piled with plates. Since he was so tall, I couldn’t see what was on them, but the smells wafting over to the bed were making my stomach howl in starvation.
Almost dying and then having the best sex of your life had a way of making a guy hungry. Seriously, though, my legs were still shaking. Obviously, I knew sex with Kieran was going to be mind-blowing, but wow. Those actors on the porn apps could learn something from him.
“Eat.” Kieran was gruff, the plates banging a little with the force he set the tray over me.
My eyes bulged as I took in the stack of thick French toast swimming in melty butter, scrambled eggs, bacon, and short glass of orange juice. There was also water and a mug half filled with coffee. Alongside the mug was some creamer, and I added it in immediately.
“Did you run out of coffee?” I wondered, stirring the brew.
“You’re only getting half. You’re dehydrated,” he grouched.
The IV in my arm begged to differ, but I wasn’t about to complain. “This is more food than I eat all day sometimes,” I exclaimed, grabbing a fork to dig into the French toast. I’d never seen it look so good. The diner I sometimes went to never made it like this.
If he said something, I didn’t hear. I was too busy stuffing food into my face.
The golden crust gave way to a soft, custard-like center, and the melted butter mixed perfectly with the flavors. Groaning, I fell back into the pillows, the fork sticking out of my grip.
“I think my tongue just had an orgasm,” I declared, going back for more.
“There’s maple syrup,” he said, gesturing to a small silver container with a spout. I hadn’t even noticed it.
I poured the entire thing over the stack.
“You’re going to get diabetes.”
“Oh my God,” I crooned the second the sweet flavor burst over my tongue. Shoveling another huge bite into my mouth, I groaned some more. “What is this?” I implored, picking up the empty container and trying to dump out more. “This is not at all like the syrup I get down at the handi-mart.”
“Because that crap is sugar water with chemicals,” he muttered. “That’s real maple syrup.”
Rich people food tasted so good.
I plowed through nearly all of the French toast before realizing he was staring. Swallowing, I set aside my fork. “Do you want some?”
“I ate.”
Shouldn’t he be in a better mood after the sex we’d just had? Maybe you’re the only one who liked it. The food in my mouth turned to dust, and I pushed the tray away and sat back, avoiding his gaze.
“Why’d you stop eating?”
“I’m full.”
“Too bad. Eat more,” he ordered.
“No.”
There went his eyebrow again. “I hope it’s on salary. It does a lot of heavy lifting.”
“What?” he asked, completely bewildered.
“Your eyebrow,” I stated. “It’s forever flying up your forehead. Must be exhausted.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Looking past him, I noted the windows. “Where’s the button for those blinds?”
He glanced around. “You want me to open them?”
“Better than sitting in the dark while you glower.”
“I don’t glower.”
Right. And his eyebrow didn’t need healthcare. He’d probably be devastated if it went bald.
Kieran reached into the nightstand, pulled out a small black remote, and aimed it toward the glass. The blinds lifted immediately.
“Why didn’t I think of a remote?” I wondered. “That’s a nice view,” I said, distracted by the cityscape.
“I told you to eat,” Kieran said.
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
I said nothing. My silence seemed to bother him. Odd because, usually, my talking bothered him too.
“Are you sick?” he asked, concern hardening his features. He thrust his hand to my forehead, checking to see if I had a fever. “Is your stomach hurting?” he asked, then, “I’m calling the doctor.”
“Kieran, I’m not sick.”
He didn’t glance up from his phone.
“Kieran.”
The line rang as he lifted it to his ear.
“How can I eat when you hated the sex?” I cried.
Kieran stared at me in shock, lips slightly parted.
Through the line still pressed to his ear, I heard someone cough. “Ah, hello?”
“I’ll call you back,” Kieran said, immediately ending the call and stuffing the phone in his pocket.
Why’d he always have to look so good? Some guys got all the luck.
“Hazard.”
My shoulders slumped.
“Explain what you just said.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Hazier.”
I flinched. I’d always thought my name was a little strange, but when he used it… it felt like some sort of punishment. It also made me feel like a stranger, like he was somehow saying he was looking at someone he didn’t know. Because, to him, I wasn’t Hazier but Hazard.
I didn’t want to be a stranger to Kieran. No more than I wanted him to hate having sex with me.
Beneath the blankets, I began picking at my nails and tearing the skin around my cuticles. “I’m s-sorry,” I said, refusing to look up.
“Sorry?” he echoed.
I bobbed my head. “I told you I’d be good for you. But I wasn’t.”
The sound that left him made me look up. I mean, I couldn’t avoid him if there was a medical emergency. Just because he didn’t like sex with me didn’t mean I’d let him die.
But he wasn’t dying. Thankfully.
And once my eyes latched on, it was like he was made of super glue and I couldn’t force them away.
“You think you weren’t good for me?”
Tears flooded my eyes, and I hoped they’d wash away the glue. But they didn’t. Pulling my hands from the blankets, I shoved my finger into my mouth and bit through a nail. The slight snapping sound it made was a bit of a relief.
“I’m just not as good at sex as you,” I murmured, not even bothering to blame it on my head injury or any other pain I suffered at the moment. Those were just excuses anyway.
Kieran came forward, thankfully breaking the hold on my stare, and I dropped my chin toward my chest while gnawing through another nail. His scent wafted around me when he moved the tray off to the side, and the mattress dipped when he sat on the edge.
His fingers grasped my chin and pushed it up. For the first time, I evaded the touch and turned my head.
“Why do you think this?”
“You’re grumpy. If you liked it, you wouldn’t be so cranky.”
He let out a rough sound and tugged me sideways into his lap. After making sure the stupid IV line wasn’t tangled, he tucked his arms around me, pulling me close.
I stayed rigid, refusing to melt. I’d already embarrassed myself enough since meeting him.
“I didn’t hate the sex.”
I glanced up. His blue eyes were sincere. “You liked it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t.”
My heart sank.
“I more than liked it.”
Oh.
“It was by far the best I’ve ever had. You are the best I’ve ever had.”
Oh. “Really?”
“Didn’t you feel how hard I came?”
My lips curled in. “Pretty sure it’s still leaking out of me.”
He groaned. “That makes me want to push your face into the pillows and rip those ridiculous boxers off you so I can watch.”
I wrinkled my nose. “They are not ridiculous.”
He shifted, and I felt his cock growing against my ass. Surprised, I looked up. The lust swimming in those blue pools was undeniable, calling to me like a siren.
Biting into my lower lip, I ground against his erection, loving the way his fingers bit into my hips.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.
” His tone was gravelly and deep. “And having you only made it worse. I already want you again. I want to tie you to that bed and breed that perfect ass until your insides are floating in my cum and your voice is a permanent rasp because your throat is the shape of my dick.”
Whimpering, I pressed down on my cock, which was rigid between my legs.
Leaning in, Kieran dragged his canine over the shell of my ear. “If you didn’t need to rest, I’d already be inside you again.”
I scrambled around, nearly pitching backward in my attempt to straddle his lap.
“Easy,” he murmured, helping me adjust as I looped my arms around his neck.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I said, grinding on his rod.
His hands slammed onto my hips like iron shackles, stopping the movement. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“More like an invitation.”
“You will not die.”
He said that a lot. I was starting to wonder if he had a complex with death.
“The invite was for sex, not death,” I told him.
“And yet you almost died last night.” He practically snarled, grasping my waist and lifting me off his lap as he stood. After pulling the covers around me once more, Kieran tugged the breakfast tray over my lap and paced from the bed toward the window.
“You really didn’t recognize the men who tried to kill you?” He wanted to know.
“Never seen them before.” I confirmed.
He was facing away, hands clasped behind him at the small of his back. The light coming in from the window outlined his body so he was just a dark shape. My words caused his head to tilt.
“So they came to your apartment and trashed the place, then came back later looking for you, and you have no idea who they are?”
“Maybe it wasn’t the same people.” Yes, I know. That sounded stupid, and despite what some people—cough-cough, Kieran—thought, I was not. But yet, the words flew out of my mouth anyway.
He turned. “So you have a lot of enemies, then?”
“No.” I really didn’t like the implication that I knew more than I was admitting.
Sure, maybe I’d been a bit hesitant this morning to say anything, but I’d just met him.
And yeah, technically, I guess I still had just met him.
But he did pull me off the streets, get me a doctor, and keep me safe the entire night.
Plus, there was the French toast. My eyes wandered back to the last few bites of the tasty concoction.
Maybe I could eat the rest of it after all.
“Then why would you think it wasn’t the same people?” he pressed.
“It probably was,” I mumbled. Really, if I knew who wanted me dead, I’d tell him. Keeping secrets like this would only get me killed.
“Did they take anything?”
“W-what?” My words stumbled just like my stomach. Maybe the French toast will have to wait.