I always figured Shara liked me, but she’s acting like we’re friends. And it makes me smile in the dark at the screen.
I have more friends now than I had for a long time. Scratch that, I’m finally letting myself have friends again. And it feels good.
It starts raining and by the time two o’clock rolls around, I find myself perched on the desk by the window, in the dark, cross legged, watching the water make trails down the window.
I’m startled again when the door abruptly swings open, and I see Killian’s shadow. He climbs into the bed and feels around. He moves erratically, disoriented.
He’s sleepwalking. And I think he’s looking for me and becoming agitated that he can’t find me. He pats the bed and then he’s digging through my blankets. He groans out a horrible sound of distress, so I hop off the desk and move to him.
“Killian?” I call out, touching his forearm.
He grabs me. He roughly pulls me to his body, gasping with what sounds like relief as his arms wind tight around me.
“What’s wrong?” I breathlessly ask.
“Violet?” His voice is panicked.
“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay? You sleepwalking?”
His hands are in my hair and he’s breathing hard. The tip of his nose grazes mine and my heart takes flight.
“I couldn’t find you,” he mutters, his palms travel down my shoulders and then to my elbows before skating back up until he’s cupping my jaw on both sides. “Couldn’t find you,” he repeats and I’m standing there with goosebumps all over.
“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing me.
I sway unsteadily.
He turns and sort of stumbles out of the room.
I stand there, heart galloping in my chest.
He was driven to protect me again. He was frantic in his search in the blankets for me.
Probably because of how amped things were tonight. Probably because Ray looked at me with that death-stare that has always chilled me to the bone.
And Killian made me feel safe. This has my heart in my throat.
Before I can calculate what I’m doing, I’m padding barefoot down the hall to his bedroom.
I can’t think over the sound of my thundering pulse, and this might be a good thing, because my brain would surely talk me out of what I’m about to do.
As I get to the bench at the foot of his bed, he jackknifes to sitting.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
46
Killian
“What are you doing here?” I fire another question at her after she doesn’t answer my first one.
“I’m not sure,” she says, timidly and breathlessly.
My blinds are open, and it means enough light comes in to make out she’s wearing next to nothing. A short nightgown with spaghetti straps. With cleavage. And it clings.
I can’t tear my eyes off her body in the moonlight. And she’s standing there visibly trembling. I see the hem of her nightgown shaking.
“Unless you want me all over you, you better go back to your bed. Now,” I warn.
She stands up straighter. Have I shocked her? Good. Because I’m serious. Serious as a god damned heart attack.
“Killian,” she breathes in a way that does her no favors because I want her to say it again like that, right into my mouth while I’m burying myself inside her.
“All over you, Violet,” I warn gruffly. “My hands, my mouth, my cock – which is rock.” I grind out the rest, “Fucking. Hard. I’ve been holding myself back, I’m at the end of my chain, baby, and yet you’re in arms reach so you’re about to get it if you don’t go.”
“I don’t know how to feel,” she breathes and clasps hair at both sides of her head. She shifts from one foot to the other, but doesn’t move farther away.
“Then go. Because looking at you here at the foot of my bed, in what you’re wearing? I know how I feel.” I twist sideways to reach the bedside lamp and turn it on.
I level her with a serious gaze as I get to take in more of her.
“You’re a fucking goddess,” I tell her.
She sucks on the side of that delicious-looking bottom lip in contemplation as pink stains her cheeks.
The pale pink, nearly sheer silky nightgown she has on… I can’t tear my eyes off her. She’s breathtaking.
Her nipples are erect, poking at the fabric.
“Are you staying or going?” I demand.
She frowns.
“Violet,” I growl. “I’m warning you. Go right now or you’re in this bed and it might not go gentle.”
She plants both hands on her hips. “That’s not a real nice way to ask a girl to spend the night in your bed.”
I whistle low, feeling my temperature rise at that sass. I just might rip that little pink nightgown up and slap her ass.
“You don’t walk away right now; you’re not goin’ anywhere. You don’t walk away and go back to your room, you’re gonna be in this bed and you’re getting fucked. Fucked like you’ve never been fucked. And I don’t just mean once. It might not ever stop.”