Chapter 5 Killian
I don't remember falling asleep.
One second I was sitting in the dark, staring at the attic window. The next—
"Killian." The whisper was silk against my ear, warm breath ghosting over my skin.
I was awake before my brain caught up. Muscle memory took over—I rolled, hand diving under the pillow, fingers finding cold steel. I had the barrel pressed against the intruder's forehead, my finger a fraction of an inch from pulling the trigger, when the world snapped into focus.
Pale moonlight. A cascade of dark hair. Wide, dark eyes that should have been terrified but weren't.
Chloe.
She didn't scream. Didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled, raised two delicate fingers, and gently pushed the gun aside, as if it were a troublesome lock of hair.
"Is this how you greet a lady?" she whispered.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I lowered the gun.
"Why are you in here?" I growled.
I sounded angry. I should have been angry. But as she crawled closer—slowly, her movements liquid in the darkness—I realized I was glad she'd come.
"I came to thank you.”
She slid over me without permission, one leg then the other, thighs parting around my hips as she settled into my lap like she'd been born to fit there.
The pathetic scrap of cotton between her legs did nothing to hide her heat.
I could feel the soft, slick warmth of her pussy pressing against my stomach; that and the slow roll of her hips tested my restraint.
"Thank me for what?"
She leaned down, her hair falling around us like a curtain, trapping us in our own private world. The scent of her filled my lungs.
"For catching me." Her lips brushed my ear as she spoke. "For talking to me like I'm normal."
"Caspian says..." she breathed against my mouth, "there's a proper way to thank a man who's been kind."
The uncle.
"That's what he says, huh?"
It wasn't a question, and she didn't answer. She just pressed her mouth on mine.
It wasn't the kiss of a slow, isolated girl.
It was slow, deep, and devastatingly sure.
Her tongue slid against mine like velvet, tasting of sweetness and secrets.
She kissed me like she wanted to ruin me for anyone else.
Like she'd practiced in the dark until she perfected the art of making a man forget every decent thing he'd ever known.
Heat hit me hard and fast. I lost myself for a second—one stupid, weak second—and kissed her back before I could stop myself. My hand found her waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of her hip. I pulled her closer, ground up into her, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to me.
She whimpered into my mouth, a small, broken sound that went straight to my dick.
"Chloe—" I tore my mouth away, chest heaving. "This isn't how you thank a man you barely know."
She only smiled against my throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along my pulse.
I was trying to be good, but kisses like hers could probably ruin men better than me.
"Please stop." I was begging her.
She paused, leaned up, searching my face.
She shook her head, dismissing my plea, before kissing me again—deeper this time, hungrier, pushing herself closer like she was trying to crawl inside my skin. Her tongue swept into my mouth.
"You don't know what you're doing, what you're starting," I said between kisses.
Her lips parted slightly.
"I'm thanking you."
She kissed my eyes, my cheeks, my throat—tender enough to break something in me. Made me want to be her weapon. Her war. Her soft place to land. Whatever she needed.
She pulled away. I watched as she grabbed the hem of her camisole and snatched it over her head in one fluid motion. Moonlight worshipped her.
God help me.
Her breasts were full and heavy, more than a handful, the tips dark and peaked from the cool air. Her waist curved inward before flaring to wide hips. She was built like an old-world goddess—soft where it counted, generous in everywhere that mattered.
She cupped the back of my head, guiding me.
"Kiss me here," she ordered softly.
I obeyed like a man already damned.
My mouth closed over her nipple, tongue circling the tight peak before I sucked deeper, harder. She gasped, fingers tightening in my hair, hips rolling against me in slow, sinful waves. The taste of her skin—salt and woman and something sweetly forbidden—made me groan against her flesh.
I wanted more. Wanted to lay her back and trace every inch of her. Wanted to hear what kind of sounds she'd make when I spread her open and tasted the honey between her thighs.
But I couldn't.
I pulled back, chest heaving. Grabbed her wandering hands.
"You don't want me?" she asked softly, her bottom lip pushing out in a pout that was either genuine or the most convincing performance I'd ever seen.
Want had nothing to do with it. Want was the problem. I wanted her like the devil wanted my soul, and that kind of wanting only ever ended one way… in flames.
"Want has nothing to do with it," I said, my voice rough.
Her fingers slid down my chest anyway, tracing the lines of muscle through my shirt, mapping me like she was memorizing her territory. She rolled her hips against me, and I felt exactly how easy it would be to give in.
I gripped her tighter. Held her still.
"You don't owe me anything," I said, forcing the words out through a throat tight with restraint. "And nobody gets to tell you how to repay kindness. Not Caspian. Not anyone."
For a second—just one—something flickered behind her eyes.
Then it was gone, and she was leaning in again, kissing me like she hadn't heard a word I said. I let it last half a second too long. Let myself be rewarded for at least trying to be honorable.
"That's enough." I gripped her shoulders and held her back. "Stop."
She leaned back. I watched her recalibrate, recalculate, file away whatever she'd learned. Interesting. Very interesting.
Then she slid off me slowly—deliberately slowly, making sure I felt every inch of her body as it left mine.
At the edge of the bed, she looked back.
"I'll learn a better way to thank you," she said.
Then she backed toward the balcony, naked from the waist up.
"Chloe."
She didn't wait. She just climbed over the railing like she'd done it a hundred times—like falling to her death was a risk she'd long since stopped counting.
I pushed out of bed, dick painfully hard, and followed her to the window. I watched her climb until she disappeared.
I stood there for a long time after.
Heart still beating harder than it had in years. Body still aching for her. Mind already anticipating what came next.