Chapter 17 #4
His rhythm turns ragged, almost frantic.
One hand clamps down on my hip painfully; the other fists in the sheets beside my head.
I feel him swell thicker inside me, the stretch turning sharper for a second, and then he’s burying himself as deep as he can go with a guttural, broken sound that vibrates against my throat.
His whole body shudders hard—shoulders locking, thighs trembling against mine, breath punching out of him in harsh, uneven bursts.
Heat floods me in thick pulses as he comes, each one accompanied by a low, involuntary growl he can’t quite swallow.
His hips keep making small, aborted thrusts like he can’t stop trying to get deeper even while he’s spilling inside me.
For a few seconds he just holds there, shaking, forehead pressed to mine, breathing like he ran for miles.
When the last tremor finally leaves him, he collapses forward onto his elbows, still buried deep, still twitching with aftershocks.
For a long moment neither of us moves.
He’s still inside me. Still shaking. His weight is a heavy, solid blanket and I can feel his heart slamming against my chest. Rain keeps tapping at the window. The rest of the house is quiet, still sleeping.
I should feel used. I should feel small.
Instead I feel… powerful. Like I just took everything this dangerous man had and didn’t break. Like I made him shake.
Killian lifts his head. Looks at me. There’s blood on his lip from where I must have bitten him. His eyes are still dark but the fury has burned down into something quieter.
“You okay?” he asks. Rough. Almost reluctant.
I nod. Then, because it feels important: “Yeah. I’m okay.”
He searches my face like he’s looking for a lie. Doesn’t find one. A short, breathless sound leaves him—almost a laugh—and he drops his forehead back to mine.
Eventually he pulls out, slow, and I hiss at the drag of it. He mutters something that might be an apology and definitely isn't, and then he rolls off me onto his back and the mattress bounces.
But he doesn't get up.
I eye him as the minutes tick by. He lays there, a hand under his head, totally relaxed next to me.
His body is glorious, his half-hard cock laying across his thick, muscled thigh.
I keep waiting for it—for him to find his jeans and go, because that's what happens, that's what happened last time—but he just lies there beside me like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
A rumble of thunder rattles the house.
"You should go," I say eventually. "If your dad hears—"
"Yeah."
He doesn't move.
I turn my head and look at him in the lamplight. He's a mess. Hair wrecked, mouth split where I bit him, a red mark coming up on his shoulder that I put there with my nails. He'd look pathetic if he didn't look so pleased about all of it.
There's come drying on my stomach and an ache in me everywhere, but I’ve never in my life felt less fragile.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Mm."
"You wouldn't touch the mark on my neck."
He turns to meet my gaze. "No."
"Why?"
He takes a while with it. Long enough that I think he isn't going to answer at all.
"Because it's his," he says.
"That's it?"
"No."
He looks up at the ceiling, his other hand reaching behind his head. He looks so casual and comfortable it makes my chest tight.
"Because a bite like that doesn't come off. You put your teeth in somebody there and they're yours. For good. Every single thing that happens to them after is your fault." His jaw flexes. "That's not a small thing to do to a person."
"And you don't want—"
"I can't keep myself in one piece for a week, Sonny.
" He says it flat, no self-pity in it at all, like he's reading me a fact off a page.
"My dad had to lock me up to keep from hurting you.
I've been in two fights since." He shakes his head once.
"I've got no business being responsible for a person. Not yet."
Not yet.
Something turns over in my chest.
"Killian—"
"Don't." He says it almost gently. "Don't make it a moment. I'm not built for it."
I swallow and nod, giving him what he wants.
I lie there next to him and listen to the rain and think about the fact that four days ago I was afraid of this man. Hell, an hour ago I was terrified of him. I'm still a little afraid… But that didn’t stopped one single thing that happened in this bed, and I don't think it was supposed to.
He's asleep before I am. I don't think he means to be. His face goes slack and all the tension in him eases. His head turns until he’s facing me, his perfect full lips pouting.
I turn off the lamp and look at him for a while in the dark.
He’s not ready for more, but he didn’t leave either.
There’s something between us–something neither of us can ignore. But it also doesn’t lessen what I feel for his brother.
Or his father…
I blow out a breath and roll onto my back, dragging the blankets up as best as I can around Killian’s massive form. Tomorrow I’ll have to face what I want. What my next steps will be.
But at least tonight, I’m not completely alone.