He slides his hands under my ass, and I have to bite my lip to keep from shrieking in surprise as he lifts me up off the ground and carries me to the bed, depositing me gently on my back on the white comforter. I sink into the mountain of pillows on the bed. "I know. But I told you that was nothing compared to what I want to do to you."

"What do you want to do to me?" I whisper.

He climbs over me, his cock grazing my pelvis, and I arch my hips slightly like some kind of involuntary reflex. “I want to make you come over and over.” Then his eyes settle behind me as he reaches for a pillow and tosses it to the floor. “But first, I want to get rid of – how many damn pillows are on this bed?”

“I don’t know. Ten?”

“Ten pillows?” Another one hits the floor.

“I usually put them on that bench by the window,” I chide.

“If I did that, I’d have to climb out of this bed, and I couldn’t hover over you the way I’m doing right now. And that would be a damned shame.” He lowers his hips, brushing his erection over my pelvis again as he throws another pillow, narrowly missing the bench by the window.

“I’d rather you stay where you are.” I palm his cock, watching as it springs to life under my hand.

“Not so fast.” He slides down me, his lips grazing my collarbone, then down over my breasts. I moan softly at the sensation of his tongue on my skin. This time, when his tongue circles each nipple, it’s like a gentle caress – one that I don’t want to ever stop. “I told you, I want to make you come again and again. I want to take my time with you.”

"Then you should do that," I tell him. "But don't take your time."

Killian laughs, the sound low in his throat as he reaches between my legs, his fingers slipping easily inside. Almost immediately, he finds the spot inside me that practically makes my toes curl. "You're demanding," he notes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I'm not demanding," I whisper back. "But if you keep touching me the way you’re touching me right now, you're going to make me come in no time flat."

"Good," he says, grinning, "because if you think I'm going to be finished with you in one shot, you're mistaken."

"You can't ruin me. You’re not allowed," I murmur as his thumb presses against my clit, in exactly the right spot as he slowly strokes me inside. "I have to be able to walk. I have a business, you know."

"Look at me, cupcake," he orders when I let my eyelids close just for a second. He corrects himself. “Lily.”

"Mmm-hmm." When he looks at me, lust in his eyes, the way he's doing now, it pushes me so close to the edge that I think I'm going to explode. I run my hand over his chest, willing him to bring himself closer to me, to enter me.

"Tomorrow, when you're walking around, I want you to still feel me between your legs. I want you sore and empty and aching for me inside you."

"Oh, God." I whisper the words, already too far gone to be more eloquent than that.

"You're going to have to let go, Lily. You’re going to have to come for me, because I want to feel you come on my fingers before you come on my cock."

"Killian," I warn, because I'm veering too close to the edge.

"Don't worry. I’m going to take you again. I'm going to take you in every possible way. Every part of you is going to be mine.”

I should object. I should protest the fact that this mountain man thinks he can somehow stake his claim on me.

In fact, my lips start to form the words. You don't own me, is what I want to say. Except I don't say that. Instead, my brain somehow short-circuits and my body takes over. Instead, I hear myself groan the words, "Fuck me."

And I come. The second I speak the words, I crash over the edge, my orgasm overtaking me like a wave, so intense it threatens to drown me. I'm barely aware when he takes away his fingers. I vaguely hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then he's over me, pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance.

My muscles throbbing, I arch my hips, aching for him to be inside me. The exquisite pleasure of having him inside me is nearly too much to take in my current state. I’m too on-edge, my entire body turned on by his touch. "Oh, hell, Lily." He looks down at me, his brow furrowed as he thrusts inside me. "You just feel so damn good. So tight. So wet."

"Yes." It's the only word I can think of because at this point my brain has officially turned to mush and maybe leaked out of my ears. The only thing I have the capacity to think about is Killian.

Killian's cock inside me. The rhythmic thrusting as he fucks me. Killian's hands pushing mine above my head, fingers interlocked as he pins me down and begins to fuck me harder, deeper. Killian's eyes on mine as he murmurs my name, asking me if I want him to keep going, how I want him to fuck me.

Harder, I beg. Harder. Deeper. More, more, more.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says. I don't tell him that it's impossible, that I'm so turned on, so wet, there's no way he can hurt me. I just wrap my legs around him, pulling him tighter against me, wanting as much of him as I can get.

He brings me higher and higher, until I’m so hot, so swollen around him that I can feel him pulsing inside me. I can feel his cock throbbing, his dick so hard he must be near exploding.

And I’m near exploding. I’m practically delirious. Drunk on him, drunk on sex, drunk on lust. My head is spinning.

“Look at me, Lily,” he orders when my eyes close lightly as I near the cliff, close to diving over the edge. “I want to see you come. I want to see you.”

His eyes say he wants everything from me, and the mere idea sends me hurtling toward orgasm. I cry out, pulling him against me and burying my face in his shoulder as he thrusts deeply inside me – once, twice, three times – groaning my name as he comes. I cling to him as my orgasm envelopes me, more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before.

We stay just like that, with him buried inside me for a while, the only noise in the room the sound of our ragged breath. He brings his lips to my forehead, then to my temple and the side of my cheek, before lightly pressing them to my lips. “That was…”

“I know.” I don’t have any other words.

27

Killian

I’m lying face-up in Lily’s bed, her head on my chest, my hand on the small of her back. I’m in a bed with lavender sheets and a fluffy white bedspread and approximately three hundred pillows now scattered on the floor.

And I’m cuddling.

I exhale a low laugh under my breath. If any of my brothers found out about this, they’d never let me hear the end of it. I can only imagine the shit I’d get, especially from Elias and Silas.

Then Lily lets out a sigh, snuggling up against me, and I think maybe my brothers are onto something. I run my hand over her ass. Yeah, this cuddling thing might not be so bad.

“What are you thinking, caveman?” Lily asks. She rolls onto her side, propping her head up with her hand.

Aw, hell. Like I’m going to tell her I was thinking about cuddling. My gaze drifts along her naked body. “You know what I’m thinking.”

She blushes. I’ve taken her three times tonight, and she’s blushing because I’m looking at her naked. “I love mushrooms,” she says.

“Uh. . . okay. Is that a euphemism?”

Lily snorts. “I’m telling you something about me,” she explains. She clears her throat. “And I hate the smell of cut grass.”

“Who hates the smell of cut grass?” I ask. “That’s like saying you hate the smell of rain.”

“Rain doesn’t smell.”

“Of course it does. What’s wrong with you? Do you have some kind of olfactory impairment?”

She looks at me, wrinkling her nose. “Clearly, something is wrong with me. My judgment is obviously impaired.”

“Clever. I was hoping for some more witty rep-ar-tee, and it looks like I got it.”

She laughs. “See? There you go. Now you know stuff about me.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You love mushrooms and hate the smell of cut grass. Car

eful, don’t spill your guts. I’d hate to know all of your secrets so soon.”

“Okay, Mr. I-Hate-Brussels-Sprouts, what do you want to know?” Lily rolls onto her stomach, putting her perfect curvy ass on display, and my cock stirs in response.

I want to know about her dead husband. I want to know what made him a not-so-good guy. I want to know if she’s in love with a ghost. I want to know why she came to West Bend. I want to know what her life was like before. I don’t know why I want to know those things about her, but I do.

Except I don’t ask any of those questions.

She turns her head to the side, looking at me expectantly. “What do you want to know?” she repeats.

I trail my fingers down the middle of her back along the dimples that lead to her ass. “I have a very personal question.”

She looks at me, wariness evident. “A very personal question,” she echoes, her voice flat.

“That’s right.”

“Okay.”

“Pancakes or waffles?”

She laughs. “That’s your very personal question?”

“That’s not personal enough? Would you rather I’d have asked if you liked anal?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“See? I know enough about you to know you’d have slapped me for even asking. Besides, I also know enough about you to know the answer to that question already.”

“You do not.” Her eyes are wide. “You can’t, because I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” I lean close to her and whisper, my palm caressing her ass cheek. “But I also know the answer is that you’ll like it with me.”

“God, you’re arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Truthful and arrogant are two different things.”

“Yeah, I’m clear on the difference. I’m also clear on which one you are.”

“Back to the important question. Do you have a waffle maker? Sex makes me hungry.”

“I have a seven-year-old kid. Of course I have a waffle maker.”

I smack her lightly on the ass. “Then get in the kitchen and make me some waffles already.” I pause for a beat, putting up my hands in mock surrender. “Kidding. Don’t hit me.”

“You’ve come really close to getting slapped a couple of times, caveman.”

“Just trying to live up to my name.”

“Are you really hungry?”

I palm her ass cheek. “Very.”

“For waffles?”

“Not anymore.”

Then I roll her onto her back, my hands spreading her thighs, and I prove just how hungry I am – and what exactly I want to eat.

Afterwards, she lies on her stomach, stretched out in bed like a cat, her breathing slow and rhythmic. I think she’s fallen asleep until she speaks. “You grew up in West Bend.”

“Yeah.” I immediately tense at the thought of what she overheard from the catty old bitches at the bakery. The prison rumor was infuriating enough. Not that I care what the small-minded people in this town think except for this girl. I find myself caring what she thinks a little too much.

“But you just came back.”

“A few months ago. I left the first chance I could.”

She nods, but she seems to know to tread lightly because she doesn’t probe anymore. “I passed through here on the way to visit my parents with Chloe. They’ve lived in Colorado for a few years now, and I’d driven through here before, but it never quite struck me the way it did the last time I came through. There was just something about this place – how small it was, the quaint little downtown, I’m not quite sure what, exactly – but it felt good, someplace I could raise Chloe. When I saw the bakery was for sale… I had this idea of what a small town was like, but I didn’t anticipate how it would feel to be an outsider.”

“My family was always on the outside in this town. All of us – my brothers – got out of here as soon as we could.”

“Where are your brothers?”

“Back in West Bend.”

“Why?”

I exhale heavily. “It’s complicated.”

She’s quiet for a while before she speaks. “I’m not on the run from the law or in witness protection or anything.”

I laugh, too loud for the room, then clear my throat. “Yeah, I don’t exactly picture you being a criminal mastermind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I could totally be a criminal mastermind.”

“Okay, so you robbed banks and then came to West Bend to fulfill your dream of opening up a bakery. No – you were mafia, right? A mafia princess.”

“You never know. It could happen.”

“I take it those were some of the rumors about you?”

“Yeah. The kids in Chloe’s class don’t let up on her about it. I think they get half of it from their parents.”

“Is she getting bullied?” I clench my jaw, unable to stifle the feeling of anger I have at the thought. I know what it’s like to be a kid on the outside in this town.

“Not physically, but I still worry about her. Of course, Chloe took it pretty much in stride. She told them we were spies.”

“Clever kid.”

“She is.” Lily is silent for a long time before she exhales heavily. “She’s really perceptive. Which is why…” She goes silent again. “Chloe… she hasn’t really had a father around. My… ex… he died before she was born, so it’s just been me and her and she hasn’t known any different.” She exhales again, the sound weighty. “If you’re here in the morning… I mean, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, you know?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, even though they shouldn’t bother me at all. Holy shit. She’s kicking me out of her house.

Hell, that’s never happened before. If I hook up with a chick, she’s the one who wants to stay and cuddle and talk about her feelings and I’m the one counting the minutes until she falls asleep and I can high-tail it the hell out of there. That makes me sound like a real asshole, but in my defense, the kinds of girls I’ve hooked up with haven’t been the kinds of girls who’d really have that much to talk about, either.

“Right. Yeah. I…” I clear my throat, sitting up in bed. “I should get going anyway. It’s late.”

I sound less casual than I want to sound.

“Killian.”

“Yeah?” My back is turned and I’m already pulling on my jeans. When I turn around, her expression is pained.

“I’m – I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing. Or what we’re doing. And if you’re here when Chloe wakes up… well, she’s going to have questions that I don’t know how to answer.”

“Nah. No worries. I totally get it.” I kiss Lily lightly on the lips before leaving.

And I do. I totally get it. It’s not fair to climb into this woman’s bed the way I’m doing, with no idea what the hell is going on between us – and waltz into her kid’s life. I have a great life – one with no responsibilities, no accountability to anyone but myself. I like my fucking life – and Lily is smart enough to know that.

She’s smart enough to know that she needs to keep her life and mine separated. There’s no reason to confuse Chloe.

And why the hell wouldn’t I be happy to get laid, then go back to my cabin instead of cuddling and playing family man? I should be ecstatic.

Except that when I make it back to the cabin at three-thirty in the morning, it feels unnaturally quiet after being at Lily’s place

Tags: Sabrina Paige West Bend Saints Romance
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