Chapter 10 #3
I smile, sniff a not-quite laugh. "Oh, Killy, sweet, sweet Killy.
" I turn my face into the side of his neck.
"You can't possibly know how badly I need to hear so many of the things you're saying. I’ve needed to hear them for so long.
" My eyes burn. "You can't know how it feels to hear them.
From you, especially. Your opinion of me matters more than anyone else's.
Even my parents. I know they love me. I know they're insanely proud of me.
And that matters to me so fucking much. But you… they're my parents. You're…"
"Just some guy."
I shake my head. "No. Not even close. Not just some guy." I cup his face and gaze into his eyes up close. "The guy. My guy. I hope."
"If there's anything in this life that I want to be more than anything else, it's yours."
I blink hard. "Then you are. You're mine."
He wipes a thumb under my eyes. "And that's all I need."
I lean in and kiss him, and for a few minutes, we just get lost in each other. This is not a kiss meant to lead to sex. It's a kiss meant to conjoin our souls, mate our hearts.
He pulls away first. "God, I love you."
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I consider saying it back. "I have to get all this out, Killy."
His gaze is calm and understanding. "I know."
"I don't want you to think that I don't feel—"
He touches my lips with a finger, silencing me.
"Shush, Story. I say it because I feel it.
I'm confident in what I feel for you. It’ll be true whether you return it or not.
I think you do, and yeah, it'll mean the whole fucking world to me to hear you say it.
" His green eyes are serious and deep and piercing. "When you're ready. Whenever that is."
I blink a few more times, and then descend back into the sordid tale of how I came to be ashamed of my sexuality.
"Everett and I dated for most of med school, and it was a toxic relationship for most of that time.
I was trying to be someone I wasn't, and he was pretending that who I am at my core didn't piss him off. "
"That can't have felt good."
"It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't been through it how you can get stuck in a relationship you know is shitty.
And just to be clear, it went both ways.
He was pretending, and so was I. I acted like his possessiveness and jealousy weren't a big-ass problem.
I acted like it didn't cut me to the core when he shut me down because I forgot myself and got too assertive.
I made excuses for his behavior, and I know he made them for mine.
But we were stuck. We did like each other—or parts of each other.
And sometimes, a shitty relationship seems like a better option than loneliness and the depression that can come with being alone. "
"I can see that," Killy says.
"It came to a head during finals. We were both stressed the heck out to the max.
He was working to become a research PhD, by the way.
Molecular biology. He was brilliant—is brilliant.
Anyway. When I get super stressed out, one of the kind of fucked-up ways I cope is sex.
It's an outlet, I guess." I can see that this bugs him a little, but he says nothing, and I watch him work through it—his emotions, to me at least, are easily readable. "I'm sorry, Killy, I know—"
He shakes his head and interrupts me. "No.
No apologizing for who you are, not fucking ever.
Is it a little uncomfortable to think about you having sex with other people?
Sure, obviously. You're your own woman, Story.
And I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know everything about you, good, bad, ugly, beautiful, weird, amazing. "
“You really mean that,” I say, staring at him.
“Yeah, I really do. Down to my bones. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's not kind of hard to listen to you talk about sex with other people, but it's a reality of life, and it’s something I understand and something I can handle.
It's not like you're sitting there telling me how great your exes are. "
I snort. "God, no." I nibble on his earlobe.
"Please trust me when I tell you that you, Killian Harris, outshine everyone I've ever dated or slept with, in every department,” I whisper, then, directly into his ear.
"No one has ever made me feel as good as you just did. And that is the god's honest truth."
"Story," he murmurs. “You don't have to—"
I cup his cheek and move my mouth to his other ear, nibble the shell, his earlobe. "You have the best cock by far." I cup him over his zipper.
He covers my hand, moves it. "Fucking hell, Story."
"I just need you to know I'm being totally honest." I kiss him, quickly, gently.
"I'm not feeding you lines or anything, Killian. I spent years wanting and dreaming and fantasizing about you and years more trying to forget you and how I felt about you. And the reality of you is so much more, so much better than anything I ever came up with in my head.”
He hangs his head, shrugs one shoulder. "I dunno how to respond to that."
I pull his face against my chest and kiss the top of his head. "You don't need to. As long as you believe me."
"I do."
I let him sit upright and swallow hard. "You ready for what Everett said?"
"No."
"Me neither." I rub my face with both hands.
"I was stressed about finals. I wanted—I needed to not think about A-and-P and chemical interactions and titration schedules and all that. I wanted my boyfriend to comfort me. To take my mind off things. And I knew he was just as stressed, and I figured it would be good for him, too. So I got rid of my roommate and did a little spaghetti dinner, complete with a stupid candle and everything. I wore some sexy lingerie. I texted him and told him I needed his help studying, and can you please come over.”
"Lucky fucking bastard," Killian murmurs. "You in lingerie?"
I grin at him. "I have some pieces I could wear for you."
"Please Jesus, yes."
I laugh at the intense sincerity in his voice. "I know white briefs and a sports bra isn't exactly the height of sensuality. But I wasn't expecting this, y'know?"
"If I was to get to see you in some sexy lingerie, Story, I legit may not survive. The rush of blood to my cock very well might just stop my heart."
"I hope not,” I laugh. “I need your cock hard and your heart beating."
He pinches my chin, tugs my lower lip down, leans in and kisses me. "Finish the story, Story."
"I was so stressed out, so…needy, I guess. Out of control? I dunno. I was out of my mind a little. Not thinking. Any filter I may have had was gone. I went a little crazy. As soon as he walked in, I jumped his bones. He was like hell yeah, at first."
"At first," Killy says under his breath, with vicious derision. "Fucking loser."
I giggle softly, and then sober as I finish the story. "I…" Memory is brutally fresh and painfully vivid. "Fuck." It hurts before I've even said anything.
"Story—"
I squeeze his hand, press his palm to my face. Whisper the rest. "I just have to tell it, and I’m sorry in advance."
"No apology necessary. I get it, and I can deal. I'm here. I'm listening."
"He walked in, saw the stupid card table and the bed sheet I used for a tablecloth, and the candles. It meant a lot to him, I could tell. I doubt anyone had ever done anything like that for him."
"Guys don't tend to get big gestures like that very often."
"Everett in particular. He came from a very broken and violent home, and I don’t think too many girls ever even tried to see the real him.
Which, honestly, is probably a big part of what led him to being the way he is, and how he reacted.
That's an explanation, not an excuse. Anyway.
I grabbed him and kissed him, and…yeah. You know how it goes. What food, right?"
"I can imagine, yes," he says, carefully.
"I…" I squeeze my eyes shut. "Shit, this is hard.
I pushed him backward toward my bed. When we were a couple of feet away, I shoved him, hard.
Not, like, violently, just…aggressively.
Big, big, big mistake. I don't know if it triggered something from his childhood as an abuse victim or what, but he snapped. He stood up and grabbed my wrists. And yeah, in that moment, I was afraid of him. He was a violent guy, but only with other guys. Never with me and never with any female. I watched him break a guy’s face at a bar because the guy got physical with his girlfriend in a way Ev didn't like.
But in that moment, I admit I was a little scared.
He didn't hurt me. Just grabbed my wrists and walked me backward out of his space.
Turned around and just stood there for a minute like he was trying to control himself. "
“That had to have been confusing.”
“Oh yeah. He turned around and looked at me, and I could tell how angry he was.
Disgusted, almost. And he said—" I sigh, try again.
"This is almost verbatim. Somewhere between a pretty direct quote and a bit of paraphrasing.
'No self-respecting man would ever want a girl who acts like you do, you know that, Story?
I don't give a fuck about politically correct, and the truth is, men want their women to be submissive. '"
The look on Killian's face is so shocked and disgusted it would be funny, in other circumstances. "No. He didn't say that."
"He did."
"Jesus."
"I wish that was the worst of it.” I clear my throat, keep going.
" 'It's such a disgusting fucking turn off when you try to be all tough and shit.
It's fucking sick, Story. I’ve tried so hard to tolerate it, but I can't anymore.
You're hot, you're smart, you're a lot of good things, but when you try to act like you're in charge?
Instant boner killer. To be totally honest, right now, Story?
I'm trying not to fucking barf. If I wanted someone to push me around, I'd be into dudes. '"
"Holy shit," Killy mutters. "That's vile."