Killian (On the Line 1)

Though I had no plans to open the door, I hurried through the living room, leaving wet footprints on the dark wood floor. When I looked through the peephole, my heart pounded at the sight of Killian. He wore a black leather jacket and a tired expression.

I wanted to walk away. I wanted to leave him to wonder where I was. He deserved to hurt at least a little. But my hand reached for the doorknob. Where the hell had he been the past three days? Huntsville, yes, but he still had a phone.

When I opened the door, a cool rush of air came in and I wrapped my arms around myself. Killian stepped in and pushed the door closed. He did a quick once over of my body and then locked his eyes onto mine.

The steely gray was gone. The eyes that had flashed angrily at me now looked tired, empty and sad.

It wasn’t just his eyes though. Killian was rumpled all over. His clothes were wrinkled and his short hair, usually fixed in a neat style, was messy and spiky.

I wanted to shove him and scream at him to get the hell out. But when he reached for me, I reached back. He pulled me against him tightly, his arms wrapping around my back.

I pressed my face against his chest, taking in his leather smell. His solid strength held me upright as I melted, tears coming fast and hard. What was this? An apology or the big breakup? I didn’t know, but just his presence here had me weeping with relief.

He pressed his face into the crook of my neck and squeezed me tighter.

“You’re an asshole,” I said, my voice a croak.

“I know.” There was an apology in his tone.

I took his hand to lead him to the kitchen for a glass of wine, but he surprised me by stopping in the living room. He tugged my hand to turn me his way, putting his other hand on my lower back. It took me a second to realize I was supposed to be moving to the music that was still playing.

“I don’t dance,” I said. “I don’t know how.”

“Shh. I’m leading.”

I bit back a comment about that being my job. The intensity on his face melted me into a puddle. I was in his arms and we were dancing. The fact that I didn’t know how seemed insignificant.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice serenaded us as he led me around the wood floor of my living room. His movements were smooth and measured. Killian was a dancer. My head was spinning with surprise and relief. He was here. His warm, solid body was pressed against mine and the softness in his eyes told me this was an apology.

The song ended and we stopped dancing, our eyes locked. When a Nat King Cole song started, I laid my head on his chest and said, “More.”

We danced until my playlist ended. By then I felt soothed and comforted beyond anything he could have said with words.

“Are you staying?” I asked him.

“I want to.”

His gaze was on my body now, which was only covered by a short silk robe. He reached for the smooth dark blue fabric on my hip and ran his hand over it. I swallowed hard, drinking in his hungry gaze on me.

When his fingers moved to the tie on the robe and pulled on it, the fabric parted and cool air touched my exposed skin. He slid the robe back on my shoulders and it fell into a puddle at my feet.

The pain and worry of the past three days without him resurfaced. I had to know if he was worth it.

“Have you been with anyone else?” I asked softly.

He pulled back, his brows lowered in a look of surprise. “What?”

“Have you? I need to know.”

He ran his thumb over my jaw line, the tender touch making my lower lip quiver with worry and longing.

“No,” he said softly. His thumb found my lip, running across it gently. “I’d never do that to you.”

I nodded and dove against him, crushing myself into the soft leather of his jacket. He wrapped his arms around me and brushed a hand over my hair. When I tipped my face up to look at him, his mouth was on mine in an instant. This kiss wasn’t soft or sweet. I bit his lower lip and he tugged on a handful of my hair in response. His other hand was on my ass, and he squeezed one cheek so hard I moaned into his mouth.

His body nudged me toward the couch, and I backed up a few steps and fell against the leather surface. His gaze was hot as he pulled off his jacket and then his clothes. I parted my thighs wide, throwing one leg up on the back of the couch and setting my other foot on the floor.