Chapter 23 Killian
I woke up, and for a second, I didn’t know where I was. I could hear the rain, smell flowers and expensive coffee, and hear the sound of typing. The last thing I remembered was Chloe crying.
“Good morning, Killian.”
I pushed myself up slowly, my back hitting the headboard.
Chloe was sitting in the chair across from the bed, one leg tucked beneath her, my shirt hanging off her shoulder like it belonged there.
My shirt. The sleeves swallowed her hands.
The collar dipped low enough to show the curve of her collarbone.
She was watching the raindrops through the window.
A laptop, which I assumed Cartier had gotten for her, sat open. An open phone box lay beside it.
“How did you know you could use me like you did? That I’d participate?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my face. No preamble. No “good morning.” I needed to know.
Chloe stilled, then turned her chair to face me, crossing her long legs.
“I didn’t know. I gambled. I heard them say they had a guest coming; they kept talking about you, made you seem like a superhero.
They were going to use you, too—to help silence me.
When I found out your name, I spent weeks reading about you.
I knew you were supposed to marry me, but they were planning to marry you off to Olivia instead.
I guess you liked a lost cause better than a vapid socialite. I just had to grab your attention.”
She stood up and walked toward me, hips swaying, her face relaxed for the first time since I’d met her. Freedom looked good on her.
“I watched you from that window the day you arrived,” she continued. “I saw how you looked at Arthur—the disgust you couldn’t quite hide. You’re a man of honor, Killian. And men of honor are the easiest to manipulate because they can’t stand to see a game rigged against someone like me.”
She wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part.
“When did you know I was using you?” she asked.
“When you called me by my last name,” I said finally. “I said Killian; you called me Mr. Hart from the tree.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Oh.”
“And you didn’t ask me anything,” I added. “Not where I lived. Not why I was there. Not what I did.” I leaned in, my voice dropping. “You already knew.”
Her chest rose slowly.
“What part was real?” I asked, my voice lower now. “Any of it?”
She held my gaze and crawled onto the bed, close enough that I could feel her heat. “Does it matter?” she asked softly.
“It does to me.”
“Then yes,” she said. “Some of it was real.”
“Which parts?”
She reached out, her fingers brushing my jaw. “The way you looked at me at the lake,” she said. “That was real. The way you wanted me—that was real.”
My jaw tightened. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know that.”
“I know.” Her hand slid down, resting briefly over my shirtless chest. It stopped right where my heart was; it sped up. “And the way I felt when you touched me,” she added quietly. “That was real. That surprised me. How much I wanted you.”
“I planned everything else,” she continued. “But this—” She splayed her fingers against my chest. “What’s between us… I didn’t plan. You were so careful with me in that house, Killian,” she whispered, her voice a low vibration against my lips. “Like I might fall apart if you touched me too hard.”
She said it like an admission she didn’t fully trust. Her lips brushed mine again.
“I liked that about you. It made my body feel… returned to me. If I said stop, you stopped. You treated me like I was precious. For a second, I wasn’t something being handled,” she said.
“Or managed. Or… used up. You let me belong to myself.”
She gave me one of those same grins she’d used when she thought she was manipulating me back in that attic. I caught her wrist before she could pull away.
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“I still think you’re trying to play me with this confession.” I couldn’t help the bit of insecurity.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my lips, smelling of the coffee she’d been drinking. The playfulness in her eyes dissipated.
“I’m not playing, Killian. If I were playing like I was back at the house, I’d be telling you I’m terrified.
I’d be asking you what happens next.” She tilted her head, her dark waves spilling over my arm.
“I don’t have to play innocent or needy because you’ve done your part.
You got me past the gates. I don’t need your help anymore. ”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice grating like gravel. “Mission accomplished, then you move on?”
I had known what she was doing; I had just never thought she’d be so callous about it as to tell me outright. So, this was the real Chloe. She didn’t flinch at the edge in my tone. Instead, she let her fingers curl around my shirt, the tips of her nails grazing my skin.
“It’s a good thing, Killian,” she whispered, her lips almost brushing mine. “Wouldn’t you rather be wanted than needed? Someone needing you so much their life depends on it feels like a weight. It’s what I had to do to survive.”
She shifted her weight, the silk of my shirt sliding across her flesh. The contrast of the white shirt against her dark skin made me lick my lips. She pinned me with a gaze I hadn’t seen before.
“I’m free now. I have access to a lawyer.
I have fourteen years of archived data of my daddy’s and stepmother dearest’s dirty deeds.
” She paused, her eyes searching mine. “So, if I stay… if I keep you close… it isn’t because I have to.
It’s because I want to. Don’t you want me to want you, future husband? ”
A week ago, I hadn’t wanted to get married at all. I was doing it out of obligation. Duty. A dying man’s last request. Now—her calling me husband did something violent to my chest.
I let go of her wrist and slid my hand up her arm, over the soft fabric of the sleeve, until my palm rested against the back of her neck. “You’re a dangerous woman, Little Ghost.”
She laughed—a real laugh, low and warm. “Life has taught me I have to be.”
She shifted, swinging one leg over my hips, then the other, until she was straddling me.
I noticed she liked this position; I saw it for what it was—a play for power, a way to put herself in total control.
After fourteen years of being told when to sit, when to eat, and when to be silent, she was testing her own command.
I let her have it. I wanted her right where she was.
I could feel the heat of her pussy, the damp, velvet warmth—pressing into me through the thin barrier of my boxers. My hands found her hips, my fingers pressing into her soft flesh. I groaned, the sound vibrating from my chest into hers.
She kissed me first—deep, her tongue fucking my mouth while she started rolling her hips. Her soaked pussy dragged along the entire length of my dick until it slipped out of the boxers, and she was coating every inch of my shaft in her arousal. She was so wet.
My hands slid up her back, skin dragging against skin, pulling her closer. I fisted her hair and yanked her head back to expose her pulse. I dragged my teeth down her throat, savoring the salt of her skin.
The feeling was agonizing. Every slide of her heat against my skin made my vision blur. I wanted to flip her over, to slam into her and end the torture, but I forced my hands to stay on her hips.
Suddenly she snatched herself from my grip, shoved me back, and braced her hands on my chest. She leaned forward, grinding harder.
Her swollen clit rubbed relentlessly against the underside of my cock as she rocked back and forth, faster and faster.
Her pussy lips parted around my thickness, hugging the sides of my shaft.
Keeping myself from shifting and pushing into her was maddening. I let her take what she needed. She turned frantic. She was close. I gripped her chin and held her in place so I could watch the ecstasy fracture her face.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I whispered against her lips, my voice sounding dark to my own ears. Her body was trembling. “You’re doing so good. Take your pleasure. Take it all. Take every bit of it.”
I watched her eyes roll back, her fingers clawing at my shoulders, and the pride I felt was almost as intense as the friction. She was mine, she was cumming on me, for me, and she was doing it perfectly.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Boss.” Cartier’s voice was muffled through the door. “Your grandpa’s assistant called. The jet landed. We need to be wheels up in two hours.”
Chloe pulled back, her lips still hovering over mine. Her chest rose and fell heavily against me. I groaned—for an entirely different reason this time.
“Tell them we’ll be there,” I called out, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Copy.” His footsteps faded down the hallway.
Chloe looked down at me, her dark eyes heavy-lidded, her lips swollen from the kiss. The shirt had slipped off one shoulder completely now.
“We should probably get dressed,” she said.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, charged with the aftershocks of her release.
I had a question that was starting to taste like poison.
I hesitated, but I couldn’t help myself.
I wanted to know about Caspian. My skin crawled at the thought of him being the one who taught her how to move like that. I didn’t want to know, but I had to.
“How did you learn that?” I finally asked.
My voice cracked slightly. I could hear myself—I sounded like the inexperienced one, like a boy stumbling over his words.
I cleared my throat, forcing the gravel back into my tone.
“The sexual stuff. You just… you fucked yourself on me like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Who taught you to move like that?”
Chloe didn’t look away. A slow, playful smirk pulled at the corner of her swollen lips—an expression that was a far cry from the fragile “Little Ghost” I’d rescued.
“The tablet, Killian,” she said simply.
I blinked. “The tablet?”
“I had a lot of time on my hands in that room. I watched a lot of porn. Especially when I knew you were coming to visit. I figured if I was going to gamble everything on you, I should probably know how to keep your attention.”
I felt the heat climb up my neck. I was relieved, but I didn’t like that she admitted it so easily. “You really studied for me? Like it was a goddamn exam?”
“Does it bother you?” she teased, her fingers trailing light circles over the pulse point at my wrist.
It did. It made me feel expendable. Like a well-researched mark. What would happen when I was no longer useful, despite what she said about wanting me?
“Would you have done that for anyone?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Yes,” she said, her gaze never wavering. “I would have, if it meant surviving.”
Her honesty felt like a blade being shoved into my stomach.
She made it worse when she let out a soft, mocking laugh at the look on my face.
“Why, Killian? From the way you’re acting, you’d think you didn’t know you were being used.
I’d almost think you were the virgin here.
” She tilted her head, her dark eyes dancing wickedly. “Are you a little out of your depth?”
I watched her for a second longer than I should have. She was something else.
My hand slid down from her neck, over the silk of the shirt, trailing down the curve of her waist until I reached the junction of her thighs.
They parted without me asking. I slid my palm between her legs, applying pressure to her center as I slid two fingers into her.
She was soaking, a mess of velvet and heat.
She was so tight, I wondered what she would feel like wrapped around me and groaned.
She gasped—soft and broken—her nails digging into my shoulders.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I started moving my fingers. I waited until her back arched, until she was leaning into the friction, desperate for the peak I was building.
Then, I stopped.
I pulled my hand away, leaving her suspended and shivering. I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me, keeping my expression a mask of cool. I needed to take back a little more control from her.
“Careful how you taunt and tease me, little ghost… all the things you start won’t end the way you think they will.”
She was still panting, looking confused. I smirked and patted her hip once.
“We should get dressed,” I said. “I’ll get the clothes Cartier bought you.”
I shifted her off me, the cool air hitting the damp spots on my skin as I sat up, leaving her flushed and breathless on the mattress. I didn’t look back as I headed for the bathroom.