Chapter 19
Samantha
My feet hurt, my eyes burn and exhaustion has settled in my bones as I watch the city grow closer from the top deck.
It’s after one in the morning and we’re heading back to shore.
The lights are beautiful, the sky clear and full of stars.
Against my better judgment, I had a third Hurricane so I’m in that dreamy buzz state where my mind is finally quiet.
Walking over to one of the white cushioned loungers, I get comfy. How is he going to keep all this white clean? It’s my last thought before my eyes drift shut.
What seems like a few seconds later, I struggle to open them.
Someone clears their throat.
The first thing that greets me is the star-studded sky. Then I feel two things at once. The absolute silence except for the slow swish of waves hitting the hull and someone’s presence to my right. I push my hair out of my face and lazily roll my head on the lounger, meeting Killian’s gaze.
He’s sitting on another lounger facing me, his elbows perched on his knees, his jacket draped over the headrest. As he watches me, there’s a struggle playing out in his micro expressions. An internal battle that has his jaw muscle flexing, his gaze hardening.
I push myself up into a sitting position and glance around.
The lights are off, except for the tiny running lights near the elevator and the LED lights in the bubbling hot tub and pool.
We’re the only two up here. “Oh, did everyone leave already? What time is it?” I croak. How long has he been watching me sleep?
“Aye, it’s 3 AM.” He hands me a bottled water. Then, letting his gaze rake over my body, he stands, tugs his dress shirt from his slacks and begins unbuttoning it.
I uncap the water and stare at the expanse of hard chest muscle and washboard abs revealed as he slips off the shirt. When he unbuckles his belt, I almost choke on the water. “What are you doing?”
His eyes drag to mine, now deliberate and teasing. “The party’s over. Time to relax.” He smirks as he toes off his dress shoes, pulls off his socks and then drops his pants onto the deck.
Holy mother of hot bodies. Clothed, the man was delicious… unclothed, he’s divine.
The moonlight is accentuating his form, outlining the breadth of his wide shoulders, sculpted pecs covered in colorful tattoos—a black dagger entwined with Celtic designs, a king playing card, a skull with snake eyes, a boxing glove, various scripts I can’t make out from here.
I greedily take it all in, then my gaze drops to his flat stomach, and to the V that draws the eye down below the belt.
I don’t let myself linger on the large bulge in his black silk boxers.
“Join me, Vixen.” His tone is rough. It’s not a request but a command.
I should tell him I’m not a dog, and he can’t just order me around. But I don’t. My body is now fully awake, my pulse spiking as I watch him strut to the hot tub and slip into the bubbling water. As he sinks down, a dark, masculine moan goes straight to my brain, which blinks offline.
I take a large drink from the water bottle, procrastinating, trying to talk myself out of joining him.
No good could come of that, right? But it’s a losing battle.
My inner voice is lost in the fog of curiosity.
The truth is, I don’t want to leave. All night I watched people indulge in their fantasies.
I want to know what that feels like. When will I ever get another chance to spend time with a man like this?
He’s watching me. His lips curve in a challenge. “Come on then. I don’t bite. Hard.”
And for the love of all things holy, that was the wrong thing to say to a woman who hasn’t had consensual sex well…
since I was eighteen, but that was so bad it’s not even worth considering.
I’m going to regret this. But I stand, toe off my sandals and pull the red dress over my head, leaving me in a black strapless bra and matching thong panties.
I hold his gaze as I pull my hair up in a messy bun, then channel Freya, putting a little extra sway in my hips as I approach the hot tub. I suppress a smile when he rakes a hand down his face and blows out a breath with a whispered, “fuck me.”
Yeah, two can play that game, mobster. Although, as I slip into the water and groan as the heat seeps into my bones, I remind myself this man is dangerous.
I need to keep up my guard. So, I stay on the opposite side of the hot tub and on a safe subject.
“The launch seemed to be a success. I had more than a few people tell me how much fun they were having and how Tampa needed new entertainment.”
His sculpted arms are draped on either side of the spa walls, his face glistening from the heat. A brief smile turns up the corners of his lips as he nods. “Went well. Thanks for your help.”
I narrow my eyes. I was expecting his usual shitty attitude or snark with me. “Why are you being nice?”
His pierced brow raises, but then he gives a little hum in his throat. “Guess I deserve that.”
Then he does something unexpected. He slides around on the seat until he’s next to me. So close, I can count the dark, wet lashes framing his light eyes. Over the scent of chlorine, I can also smell a spicy cologne. That’s new and not unpleasant.
His arm brushes mine.
I freeze.
“Relax, Vixen. I just wanna have a chat.” His voice is like velvet, soft and comforting. But the gleam in his eye is bordering on feral. Does this man ever blink?
“About what?” I whisper, kicking myself for falling for his trap. Now that he has me alone, of course he’s going to interrogate me. And he doesn’t disappoint.
His gaze drops to my bracelet, to the Rod of Asclepius charm. “Let’s start with why you became a doctor.”
My lips flatten as I stare into his eyes. I’m battling myself. The thing is, I do want to open up to him, share some part of myself in hopes that he’ll open up to me. But I can’t trust him.
He searches my face then a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Stay put.” With one smooth motion, he pushes himself out of the water and returns with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
Sliding back into the water next to me with a small splash, he pours the gold bubbly into the glasses.
Handing me one, he clinks it. “To askin’ questions instead of making assumptions. ”
I take a sip and watch him carefully for any sign of deception. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Aye.” He swallows and looks at me expectantly.
I follow the motion of his Adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow. The side of his muscular neck has a black, Gaelic script tattoo. His pulse is a heavy, slow beat beneath it. I move my attention back to his mouth.
He rubs a thumb over his bottom lip. “Go on. Answer the question.”
I’m glad I’m under water because goosebumps break out over my body. Here in this intimate space, surrounded by comforting hot bubbles, champagne and the sea air, I’m having a hard time holding onto my secrets. But then again, that’s probably his plan.
I sigh. I guess there’s no harm in answering this one question.
“I was raised by my grandma. She was disabled and couldn’t do much, so the way she bonded with me was TV.
She loved the medical dramas. I began to fantasize about having the life that I saw on TV.
Saving lives, doing something important. Making her proud.”
“Your grandma? What happened to your parents?” he asks.
Will he think less of me if I tell him the truth? I guess we’ll see because his proximity, his full attention is making me all melty and weak. I couldn’t resist him if I tried. And clearly I’m not trying at all.
I lean my head back to stare up at the stars.
“My parents were young when they had me. Young and a wreck. My mom had three miscarriages after me, which caused her to spiral into a deep depression and then addiction. When I was seven, it took her life.” A plane blinks as it crosses my field of vision.
“My dad was never around. He was a gambler. After we buried my mom, he lost everything. The house. The shitty little Subaru. My Grandma Bess was my mom’s mom.
She took me in when Dad disappeared. I honestly have no idea if he’s even alive.
He’s never tried to contact me if he is. How fucked up is that?”
I steal a glance at Killian. His expression is soft as he studies me. I’m happy to see there’s no pity there. More like understanding. He watches me quietly, waiting for more. I laugh self-consciously. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
His brows slowly rise. “Then spending time under the stars in a hot tub with a sexy as hell, intelligent woman? No.”
I groan and smile. I can’t help it. He’s infuriatingly charming, even if he is just trying to pump me for information. “Then it’s your turn,” I whisper. “Tell me why you don’t like me.” I hate the way my voice reveals the vulnerability I’m feeling. It’s too late to take it back, though.
His eyes close and he blows out a deep breath. After a few moments of struggling for the right words, his voice is gruff as he finally says, “It’s not personal.”
I huff out my frustration. “That’s what your dad said. But it feels personal, Killian.”
Killian’s eyes sharpen. He scans my face, and I feel it like a caress.
Finally, he swallows the rest of the champagne in his glass then turns away from me.
“When I was nineteen, I had a baby on the way. A girl. My girlfriend was five months pregnant, waitin’ for me at an outdoor café when a drunk driver plowed into the tables.
” His voice breaks on the last word. He’s swallowing hard, unable to go on.
Oh, God. Obviously, this is an unresolved trauma.
My heart aches. I want to reach out to comfort him, but I don’t move.
He’s deep in thought, in the past and I don’t want to disturb him.
I can see the emotion playing out over his expression, the rage, sadness, grief.
He’s back there in that moment. Reliving it.
It’s not a memory neatly tucked away yet.
All I can do is give him the space to feel it.
Finally, he continues, but his voice is flat.
“There was a severed artery in her leg. So much blood. A doctor was there but she… she only gave Amber a few seconds of her time then moved on to a lad with a hurt arm. A bloody hurt arm. He wasn’t dyin’ in front of her.
I begged her to stay and help Amber and our baby.
She just basically said sorry, we were on our own. ”
“Oh, Killian.”
A female doctor associated with what was probably the worst day of his life?
I think back to when we first met in Sandro’s place, his change of demeanor as soon as he found out I was a doctor. I understand why I was a trigger now. “That’s awful. I’m sorry you lost your family.”
He turns to me, eyes haunted by ghosts of grief and loss. “What would you have done in that situation?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know how bad it was. But…” Holding his gaze, I try to gently deliver the truth. “If it was a femoral artery, there’s not much any doctor could have done in the field. Did she apply pressure and a tourniquet?”
His nostrils flare, his reply a devastated whisper. “Aye.”
I do reach out to him then, because the heartbreak in his eyes is too much to ignore. I slide my fingers through his. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze travels over my face, unguarded for the first time, letting me see the unmasked devastation he lives with. He squeezes my hand then releases it, refilling our champagne glasses. As he touches my glass with his, he clears his throat. “To new beginnings.”
I’m not sure what he’s referring to, but his walls have lowered. Anger and suspicion are no longer simmering beneath his gaze. There’s a new heat as he watches me take a mouthful of the champagne.
I let the tingling fizz linger on my tongue before I swallow. His eyes lock on my mouth as he says, “Your turn. Is your grandmother still alive?”
I have his full attention now. It’s intoxicating. “No. I lost her when I was in my first year of medical school. Osteosarcoma. Went to her brain fairly quickly.”
“Sorry, love. At least she knew you were going to be a doctor. She was proud of that, yeah.”
“She was. Too bad I couldn’t save her.” I stare up at the stars for a long time.
Until I hear the soft swish of Killian shifting his body in the water.
I roll my head on the cushion and meet his gaze.
He’s closer. His head propped up on his fist, studying me.
His eyelids are half closed, but those eyes are glittering and sharp.
When he speaks, his voice is soft as a caress. “Who are ya runnin’ from?”