Chapter Thirty
TRISSA
T ime blurred as I sat in Killian’s bed. The sheets still held traces of his warmth. As I shifted, every muscle hummed with sweet soreness, a delicious reminder of our night together. I ached for his presence—not just physically, but in a deeper way that made me want to squeal and kick my feet with excitement.
We were really happening!
This morning, waking up in his embrace felt like finding shelter in a blizzard, his strength wrapped around me was a sanctuary I never wanted to leave. I caught my lip between my teeth, trying but failing to contain the smile that threatened to take over my face.
Killian was like stepping into a fantasy I never dreamed possible.
I finally dragged myself out from under the covers. I caressed the worn band shirt and the plain black boxers he left out for me at the end of the bed. I pulled them on and went in search of my rock god.
After a quick stop in the hall bathroom which was just as drab as the rest of his place, I followed the faint sounds of a guitar guiding me as I padded down the hallway, noting the pale gray walls that held photos of Killian in concert and the framed awards he received over the years.
Sadness tugged at me when I realized there were no personal photos of Killian with friends or loved ones.
I found him in the kitchen. Killian didn’t notice me at first, so I took a second to lean against the doorframe and watch him. My heart skipped a beat as my gaze lingered on a shirtless Killian. His sculpted abs hiding behind the guitar. Long fingers strummed a catchy tune as the aroma of cinnamon and butter melting into the deliciously familiar scent of my all-time favorite breakfast food.
French toast!
His soft humming made my insides flutter, and when he’d pause to scratch notes in a well-worn black notebook, my pride for him soared. Everything about him was both familiar and foreign. The old memories were melding with the new ones.
He glanced up, his gaze darkening as it traveled from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. If it were any other guy, I’d squirm at the way his eyes lingered on my curves or the way his tongue peeked out to lick at his bottom lip.
Holy baby Jesus. The overt sexuality oozing out of him made me want to pull him back into the bedroom.
Trying to act normal and like I didn’t only think about sex when it came to him, I blurted, “You remembered.” I toed the kitchen floor, conscious of my bare feet and bright sparkly toes contrasting against the black marble.
Killian gave me a slow blink before responding, as though he became lost in the moment, too. He glanced over at the bread on the griddle. “Of course I did. It’s your favorite.”
What he didn’t say or remind me of was the insane number of times the two of us snuck into the kitchen at the group home to make this same meal. Often, other kids would wander in and Killian would make more.
We felt like a real family sometimes.
Killian set his guitar down and returned to the stove. He flipped French toast onto the two waiting plates and scooped a dollop of butter on top of each. “I was just keeping it warm for us.”
He set the plates on the table. “Good morning, beautiful.” He cupped my cheek and brushed the barest of kisses against my lips before leading me to the table. My mind and body were fully awake now and demanding more of him, in every way.
But we could have breakfast first.
“What time is it?” I eased onto a chair at the table while he poured me coffee. Just like when I was younger, I took a moment to deeply inhale the familiar cinnamon and spice of our breakfast. It was one of the most comforting scents. I cut into my piece and the flavor tingled on my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored it. Why hadn’t I ever learned to make it for myself?
Because it reminded you of him.
Killian grinned as he joined me and took a bite. “Around 11:00 a.m. Good?”
I rolled my eyes at his blatant attempt at him needling me for more praise. “You know it is. I bet you wow all your overnight female guests with this the next day.”
His smile fell and I immediately regretted the comment.
What was I doing?
I didn’t care about his past conquests. Well, not much, so why did I bring it up?
He recovered and his frown turned into a smirk. “Fishing for information, Tink?”
“No.” I stabbed my fork a little too hard into the next bite of French toast, flinching at the scrap of metal against the ceramic plate.
“If you want to know how many women have spent the night here, all you need to do is ask, little fairy.” He’d gone from showing hurt to having way too much fun at my expense.
He could be so infuriating!
As much as I wanted to hear his answer I also didn’t. I might not want to acknowledge why, but the thought of another woman waking up next to him and knowing what number I was in a long line of them made my gut churn.
I chewed the food in my mouth aggressively, refusing to answer.
Killian, the jerk, took a bite and let me sit there suffering.
I hated that he knew it bothered me.
“One.” His single word answer had me snapping my head up.
My brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“As of today, only one woman has slept in my bed.”
I scoffed. He was clearly pulling my leg. “Killian … ”
He didn’t move or avert his gaze. He just calmly stared at me while the realization sunk in.
“But that can’t be true. I see your photo in the paper with a different woman practically every week.”
He shrugged. “I told you, I’ve never had a girlfriend. I don’t want people that don’t matter in my space. I never bring women here.”
“Oh.” A thrill shot through me, causing me to sit up a little straighter. Knowing I was the only one to see the inside of his home settled the roving beast of jealousy within me.
And knowing that it proved what I meant to him.
Satisfied and very much surprised in the best way, I decided to change the subject. “The song you were working on sounded beautiful.”
He pursed his lips. “It’s not exactly right. I’m not sure if I’ll use it or not.”
“Killian, the melody was so complex and catchy, it drew me right in. I loved it. You should put it in the new album.”
“It might be the only thing on it,” Killian muttered and then jerked upright, his cheeks flushing. “I’m exaggerating.”
I reached across the table and placed my hand over his. “Are you struggling with choosing songs to use?”
He sighed and turned his hand to allow our fingers to intertwine. “This would be the fourth one so far. We’ve practiced the other three already.”
I wrinkled my nose and tried to remember what I specifically heard about the new album. “And you’re recording tomorrow?”
“Yup.” His fingers tightened before he let go to pick up his coffee mug. His confession surprised me. He never liked to be underprepared when he entered the recording studio.
Pain manifested in his tight features—in the press of his lips, in the shadows gathering at the corners of his eyes, in the set of his jaw. It hurt to see this brilliant, creative soul struggling to create when it once came so easily to him.
Killian hated to be pitied. “Inspiration struck this morning. Maybe you’re my lucky charm, Tink.”
“Are you saying I’m your muse?” I joked, kind of liking that idea.
A bright smile curved his lips. “I think you might be.”
“I, uh …” This revelation felt personal and intimate, something rare and special. In the last twelve hours, everything between us had changed and I wanted to acknowledge what an honor that was. Words hovered on my lips, only to be quickly discarded for not being good enough to convey what was in my heart.
“Tink, look at me.” He gently tipped my chin up with a knuckle. “I haven’t had a muse in a long time.” He sighed, like he was releasing an old burden.
I swallowed hard. This was even bigger than I thought.
Emotion flickered in his blue gaze. He stood and drew me up to him. “No one has ever affected me like you do.”
This poor, sweet man had misinterpreted my silence. “I’m not worried about other people being your muse.” I smiled. “It makes me feel good to know I can help you in some small way, and I wanted to express that but I couldn’t find the right words.”
“You’re the only muse I need.” His hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in so suddenly, I collided with his chest. Heat rushed to my face.
His touch claimed me as his. And in the same way, he was mine.
I tilted my head, locking eyes with him, my mouth suddenly dry. I swiped my tongue across my lips, and Killian’s gaze tracked the motion like he was memorizing every detail.
His lips were a breath away. I gripped his biceps, digging into the hard muscle. If I lifted my chin up and rose on my toes, we’d be perfectly aligned to kiss.
“You’ve always been my only muse,” he admitted.
What?
I froze. A few slow blinks being all I could manage as his words sank in. “How? We haven’t seen each other in years.”
His hand slid around to cup my throat, his thumb skimming along my erratic pulse point while his other hand rubbed slowly up and down my hip, soothing me. “Every song I’ve ever written has always been about you. You’ve never been far from my mind—or my heart.”
He squeezed just a bit on my neck. He didn’t stop my breath from flowing, otherwise I might have panicked, but instead, the pressure focused me, and brought my racing thoughts to a startling stop.
I drew in a deep breath only to have it shudder out of me.
“You okay?” he leaned in to whisper against the shell of my ear.
He was the one with the big revelations today and here he was asking if I was okay?
I was fine. My libido was wrecked.
I shivered in response to his rumbling in my ear. “Yeah. I just wished I’d seen you before now. All this time wasted when we could’ve been together.”
“It’s like you said earlier. Maybe this is our time. And if it had happened any other way, it might not have been right for us.” He drew me against him. I tilted my head and placed light kisses along his jaw, loving how the scruff of his beard abraded my lips. We were so close there was no mistaking the hardness of his cock against my stomach.
He stiffened. “Tink.”
In that one word I knew what he was asking.
“I want this.”
“If you’re sore from last night, we don’t have to.”
I loved the care and concern he showed me. This time when he tilted my chin so we could see into each other’s eyes, his touch was gentle.
“I want you.” I traced my hands up and over his pecs and gave him a sly grin when I tweaked his nipples.
He hissed out a breath. “That’s not what I was asking.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, ignoring the ache between my thighs.
He lifted me up and carried me into the kitchen, depositing me onto the countertop. The second my bottom hit the marble, I hissed.
Killian’s raised eyebrow had me hitting his arm. “Okay, fine. I’m a little sore.”
With a shake of his head he scooped me up into his arms.
“Where are we going?” I pretended to swoon. “I hope it’s somewhere you can have your way with me.”
He chuckled when I tried to wiggle my eyebrows.
I snaked my arms around his neck. “Is this how we’re going to get from place to place from now on?”
“I could think of worse things than to have you in my arms all the time.”
We made our way back into his bedroom and he tsked at me when I glanced longingly at the bed. Without a word he strode towards a door at the far end of the room. “It’s your fault it’s all I can think about.” I pouted. “If you weren’t so incredibly sexy, and?—”
When he used his arm to push the ornate door open I gasped. “Holy shit. This is your bathroom? Do you have parties here?” I’d never seen one so big. “What are those two doors over there?”
He looked to where I pointed. “The toilet closets.”
I giggled. “You have his and her toilets. I’m kind of impressed and horrified. Do you have his and her showers?” I scoped out the room but only noticed one extremely large shower. However, it must have had more than a dozen shower heads.
Killian, without answering, set me down on a bench next to the tub. I admired his perfectly rounded backside as he turned the water on and poured in a light purple liquid. Lavender bubble bath? Next, he opened a jar and scooped a generous amount of bath salts, which he added under the running water.
“Are you done ogling me?” He straightened and moved to the linen closet, pulling out two large fluffy towels and placing them on a rack next to the tub.
“Nope.” I popped the p. “Especially when you do sweet things like run me a bath. It just increases your sexiness aura. Don’t blame me if I decide to pull you in with me.”
“Who said I wasn’t going to join you?” He waggled his eyebrows in the way I’d been trying to do earlier.
Jerk.
I nodded my head vigorously. “That’s an excellent idea.”
Once the tub had filled, he pulled the hem of my—his— shirt and shimmied it off of me. It didn’t matter what this man did, my heart wanted to climb out of my chest and offer itself to him. He exuded sensuality and caring and it made me sad that it had taken me so long to see it.
Then I stood and he helped me remove the boxers.
“It’s your turn,” I said, hoping my husky voice sounded alluring.
I ran my fingertips across his abdomen, loving how he sucked in a breath as I traced every ridge and dip on display. He was so damn hot. My hands curled into the edges of his pants and to the boxers he wore underneath.
I’d like to say I could’ve been slow and provocative about it, but in my eagerness I tugged them off so hard I was surprised they didn’t rip.
I tilted my head to look at him, expecting him to laugh or make light of my lack of finesse. Instead, the heat of his eyes burned me up from the inside out. “You’re so sexy, Tris.”
“Tell me more,” I purred, teasing him.
“I love that I can see every expression on your face. There’s no pretending with you. No games. No manipulation. You show up exactly as you are and I treasure that.”
I was quiet for a minute. “Except when I wanted to not be me. The makeover … My actions, trying to be sexy and smooth … None of that worked. I realize now it was because I wasn’t being true to myself. You warned me, told me from the start I didn’t and shouldn’t have to do any of that. And now I know why. Because you like me for me.”
“Trissabelle. I love you for you.”
I wrapped my arms around his naked body and pulled him to me. After that admission, I needed more of him. Physically.
Now.
He groaned and backed away, stepping into the tub first and holding out his hand to help me in. “No. You are taking a bath. The lavender will relax you and the bath salts are supposed to be good for sore muscles.”
“And you just had bubble bath and bath salts hanging around for—” I stopped before I wrongly accused him of having women here when he’d been clear he never had.
“Myself. I’m a bath kind of guy,” he shrugged unapologetically.
“You’re serious?” I laughed. “That’s awesome.” I placed my hand in his and stepped over the edge and into the water.
Killian sat and laid back allowing me to maneuver myself and settle between his legs.
Now it was my turn to let out a garbled sound of pleasure.
The heat of the water and the miracle of what he’d added to the water felt amazing. We lay there together in silence, my back resting against his chest. His hands skimmed up and down my arms, kneaded my breasts, and caressed my stomach. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him, never more content than in that moment.
“I thought we were taking a break from sex?” I asked, breathlessly, sincerely hoping he’d say no and that he’d been joking.
His answer was to lightly massage my clit. “Who said anything about sex?”
There was something erotic about him getting me off while his hard cock pressed into my back. My hips pumped into his finger and it amazed me at how fast my body woke up. How quick my need for him grew, and I prayed he didn’t ask me to wait to come like before.
He didn’t protest as my fingernails dug into his forearm. Tucking his face into my neck, he licked at the skin and kissed his way up to my ear.
I moaned his name as my legs trembled and he slid an arm around me, his hand clamped tight on my hip, as I writhed in his lap.
“Yes, yes. Like that. Don’t… ” My breath caught. “Don’t stop.”
“I like you all warm and needy,” he teased. His finger shifted, sliding through my slit and then back up to my clit. “Come for me, Trissabelle.”
I fucking loved hearing my name on his lips.
Like a freight train out of control on its tracks, my back arched and a mewling cry burst from my mouth. As I came down from my orgasm, he lightly bit on my shoulder, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” his voice husked in my ear.
I lay on him in a heap, unable to move. Good thing I didn’t have to. “That was … wow. Just wow.” Any other words beyond that escaped me.
He kissed the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”
“Amazing.” I sighed. The world had taken on that fuzzy, happy glow.
He plucked the bar of soap hanging off the side of the tub and languidly slid it over my weakened limbs. Tears burned at the back of my eyes.
Killian was washing me. It hit me that I’d never had this with anyone before. I’d never had someone take care of me.
Not like this.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, never once stopping, even though I noticed he moved the soap a little faster across my breasts. Almost like he was afraid he couldn’t stop himself if he lingered.
“Yeah. It’s just that you’re like the most perfect book boyfriend.”
“You’ve said that before.” His chuckle had me protesting.
“It’s true. Seriously, who does stuff like this in real life?”
“I told you once that you needed to learn to expect this treatment. And I’ll continue to remind you of that every day if I have to.”
“Only if I can pamper you, too.”
“This is not me expecting something from you.” He reached for the bottle of shampoo, poured some in his hand, and gently worked it into my hair. He made me feel warm, cozy, and cherished.
“And this is why you deserve someone to treat you like you’re the sun, the moon, and the stars. The entire galaxy.” Killian deserved the world and I wanted to be the one to give it to him.
He remained silent. I had a feeling he didn’t know what to say to that. After he rinsed, conditioned and rinsed my hair for a second time, we sat together in comforting silence.
This was for sure the second-best way to spend our time together.
When the water cooled, he helped me out of the tub and draped a towel over me, then proceeded to dry me, briskly and efficiently. It didn’t matter how much I protested that I could do it myself.
When he was satisfied I was dry enough, he toweled himself off and opened the cabinet under the sink. He produced a hair dryer and held it out to me. “I’ll go change and get some of the clothes you left here from Lexi.”
He returned with a stack of clothes and placed them on the counter. My purse dangled from his elbow, and he added that to the pile.“Your phone keeps buzzing.”
Shit.
I had a good idea of who had been trying to reach me.
So did Killian, if his narrowed gaze and crossed arms were any indication.
I pulled out my phone to find at least one hundred messages.
All from Peter.