Killian
At around one in the morning, we call it quits. The painting is half finished, but Caroline is clearly exhausted. Her eyes are drooping shut, and while I have more energy to paint than I’ve had in months, I don’t want to keep her up.
I send her to bed and sit down on the chaise, bending forward to rest my elbows on my knees as I thrust my hands into my hair. When I close my eyes, the only thing I see is Caroline in that robe, her lips painted a sinful red.
She’s temptation incarnate, a goddess of seduction and beauty. I’m a mere mortal who has to fight for my life.
She fit against me so perfectly, like she was always meant to be there. I swear I can still feel the softness of her skin under my hands.
What was she thinking wearing that? It’s hard enough being under the same roof with her without having that tempting image in my mind.
It would’ve been easy to give in and take what we wanted from each other. But I’m not going to be her rebound, even if she doesn’t realize that’s exactly what she’s doing. She needs to figure out if she wants this for the right reasons or because I’m the only person who actually understands her.
With a sigh, I stand up and walk to my room. Taking off my rings, I drop them on the dresser before removing my clothes and getting in bed.
The apartment is eerily quiet tonight. It always is, but tonight it feels even more so. There’s no noise coming from outside, not even horns or sirens. That’s unusual.
After a half hour of struggling to sleep, I sit up and turn on the lamp, grabbing the book on my nightstand. It’s a philosophy book and usually it will keep me entertained, but tonight my mind is running.
The only thing I keep thinking about is Caroline.
Is she asleep? What will she do if I knock on her door right now?
What will I do if I knock on her door? No matter the conflicted feelings we have for each other, it doesn’t change the fact that she was engaged to my brother.
If we do anything and it gets back to Beckett, it’s just going to add fuel to the fire.
I don’t care what my family or my brother does, but I’m not going to let anything affect Caroline. They’ve already painted her as the villain.
Setting aside my book, I get out of bed and pull on a pair of lounge pants. Maybe a cup of warm milk will help me fall asleep, especially if it’s spiked with a little Irish whiskey.
I leave my room and start to make my way down when I see a shadow moving in the kitchen. I pause on the stairs, watching Caroline open the fridge and grab the carton of milk. Seems like neither of us can sleep tonight.
“You know if you add whiskey to that it’ll be more effective,” I call out.
She jumps a mile in the air, turning around to face me, her hand resting on her chest over her heart.
“Jesus, Killian, stop doing that!” She scolds. “I feel like my heart is about to break out on my chest.”
“You should have better awareness of your surroundings,” I say, walking down the stairs and to the kitchen.
“You should have better awareness not to piss off a woman who’s standing near sharp objects and has a known history of stabbing,” she snaps.
I can’t help it, I laugh. It sounds strange, even to my own ears. I’m not sure the last time I really laughed at anything. Caroline’s anger dissolves and she stares at me with a soft look on her face, a smile curving up her lips.
“I think the last time I heard you laugh was probably my high school graduation,” she says.
I sober at the realization. “It was probably around the time I realized I didn’t want to share my laughter with people who clearly never appreciated it.”
“You could have told me that,” she says. “It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”
“I asked you to come with me,” I say.
She brushes back her hair, tilting her head back to meet my eyes.
“I was twenty-two, Killian. I’m sorry if I didn’t want to run away with you when you had no plan of where you were going and I was still optimistic enough to think that if I did what my parents wanted, it would mean that they’d love me. ”
Turning away from me, she pours milk into a pan and puts it on the stove. She’s changed from her robe into a sleeveless, cotton night dress which falls all the way to her ankles. It has lace along the high collar and down the placket of buttons. It might be cute and matronly if she’d buttoned it.
As it is, the buttons are open down her chest. Standing as she is in profile, I can see the creamy curve of one pale breast peeking through the gap. I suddenly feel like a teenager discovering breasts for the first time.
She’s trying to drive me crazy and I don’t think she even realizes it. She’s wearing clothes she’s comfortable in, and that effortlessness is infinitely sexy. She’s already fucking lethal when she’s deliberately trying to be sexy.
“What if I were to ask now?” I say, taking a step forward.
Caroline looks at me, a dip appearing between her brows. “What do you mean?”
I take another step forward until I have cornered against the counter. Reaching out, I turn off the stove so the milk doesn’t boil and spill.
“I was going to dri—” She breaks off mid-sentence when I lean forward and place my hands on the counter, on either side of her hips, close enough I can feel the soft cotton of her nightdress. I breathe in her scent, something earthy and floral.
There’s no fear in her eyes when she tilts her head back to look at me.
“What would you have done if I’d shown up at your wedding and asked you to run away with me? Would you do it? Would you stand with me against everyone?”
She doesn’t reply right away. I don’t know why I’m interested in her answer, or why I’m disappointed she doesn’t reply right away.
Caroline had twenty-seven years of conditioning, ideas and values which have been fed to her again and again until she started to believe if she just did as they asked, she’d be valued.
It’s the greatest manipulation trick in the book.
Breathing out, I release the countertop and start to step back when Caroline surprises me by hooking a finger into the silver chain around my neck and jerking me forward.
I brace my hands back on the counter so I don’t fall right into her. Caroline arches onto her toes until she’s close to me, our lips hovering inches from each other. There’s a fire in her eyes which wants to burn me, and I want to let it.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Unequivocally, yes. If I never left home and you showed up at my wedding and asked me to leave, I would’ve said yes.” She laughs lightly. “Maybe I would’ve run away before you even had the chance to ask.”
Our lips are close, our breaths mingling, chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. Each time we inhale, our chests brush against each other in the lightest touch.
“Are you sure?” I ask. It seems easy to say, but would she have been able to do it?
So softly that I barely feel it, her bottom lip brushes against mine. The soft touch sends a spark through me, my hands tightening around the counter. Her nightdress rustles as she moves.
“I was sure a long time ago,” she whispers. “I just couldn’t let go of my fear.”
“What makes you think you would have been able to do it now?”
Her lashes flutter as she blinks in thought.
“There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to make a decision.
You can be brave enough to risk it all or choose to live in fear.
Maybe I can’t guarantee what I would have done in a hypothetical past. All I know is nothing would have changed the way I feel. ”
At the risk of losing my sanity, I close the distance between us until our bodies are flush together. Caroline gasps, her hands settling on my bare chest. There’s no place to escape, for either of us.
“And how do you feel?” I ask in a low voice.
Our lips are still so close, but neither of us moves to close that gap. I’m not sure why we’re teasing each other like this. We may enjoy the torture a little too much.
“Like I want to burn it all,” she whispers. “Like there’s a thing inside my chest which needs to be let out. I’m so tired of suppressing everything. I just want to feel, for once.” Her wide eyes search mine. “Can we do that?”
I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking of me. I do know that it’s not in me to deny her what she wants.
“We can do anything you want,” I promise.
“But not right now?” I hear the disappointment in her voice, and it’s a disappointment I feel as well.
I shake my head. “Not right now.”
I stand by the fact that she needs time. I waited a long time for this chance, I don’t mind waiting a bit more. Caroline needs to be sure she’s making the right decision for herself, and this is a decision she will have to make.
With Herculean effort, I push away from her. Caroline shivers as cold air rushes into all the places warmed by our bodies. With a look of determination, she nods.
“Feels kind of awkward to drink milk after all that,” she mumbles.
I laugh lightly, though I can’t deny that she’s right.
“We can always drink the whiskey,” I suggest.
Caroline twists her mouth to the side, humming quietly. “Your methods of giving a hangover cure are quite interesting. I might be persuaded to drink the whiskey.”
I don’t know whether it’s a deliberate move or she does it without thinking, but she braces her hands on the counter behind her which widens the gap of her collar.
I narrow my eyes at her. “On second thought, maybe we should just stick to the milk and hope it does the trick.”
“I don’t think milk is going to do the trick, but I do know something that will.” The tops of her cheeks have turned an apple red.
I turn the stove on to warm the milk, keeping a careful distance from the temptress in my kitchen. Knowing what her body feels like against mine is just going to make it that much harder to resist her.
“The only thing you’re going to find in this kitchen is milk,” I tell her.
She comes forward, resting her chin on my shoulder, which is quite the feat because she has to arch up onto her toes to do it.
“What if I want the milk man?” She whispers.
I spent years working hard to be considered a true artist and make a name for myself, and she has reduced me to a milkman. Fine, for her, I’ll be anything.
Reaching out, I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Caroline gasps, bracing her hands on my chest.
“The kitchen is closed. We’re only serving milk at this hour,” I repeat.
She opens her mouth to protest, and I place a finger on her lips. “Shhh. No more talking.”
Caroline exhales heavily, like I’ve asked her to do something tremendous.
Once the milk is warm, I pour it in a cup and walk Caroline back to her room, locking her inside. I need to maintain my distance from this woman. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so close to losing my senses. She tempts me like nothing and no one.