He ripped his tee over his head and rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand. It wasn’t anger he’d been feeling, he realized, but fear, fear of a life without Fiona.
He heard her door close. He stepped into the hall. She was hurrying toward the stairs with her overnight bag and purse. He took the stairs two and three at a time, catching up with her between the living room and the wine cellar. He caught her arm and spun her around.
She was crying. She dropped her overnight bag. “Let me go, Kelan.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
He released her and straightened. “Don’t do this, Fiona.” He rubbed his chest again. Goddamn, it hurt.
Fiona wiped her tears and resumed her trek toward the garage. Kelan heard the screams his soul made. None of them hit the air. She took the keys to her Acadia out of the basket, then walked into the garage. The lights popped on. He followed her.
*
Fiona opened her door and tossed her purse inside, then realized she’d left her overnight bag in the hallway. God, this would have been so much easier if Kelan had just let her go.
She turned to say a last goodbye. He was right there. He bent down and took a knife out of his ankle sheath. Her eyes widened. What was he going to do with that?
He held the tip of the wickedly sharp KA-BAR to his chest. “Don’t leave me on the wayside of your life, struck but too crippled to get out of the road.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Show me mercy, Fiona. Kill me outright.” The tip of his knife cut his skin.
“Kelan, stop!” She pulled at his hand, but her strength was no match for his, and wrestling for the knife widened the cut. She cried as she set her hands on either side of it, flattening them against his bare skin.
“Dig my heart out of my chest and take it with you, where it belongs. Because without you, I won’t need it.”
“Kelan—”
“Do it, Fiona. Or don’t fucking go.”
She quit struggling with him as a sob broke from her, which she tried to stop, but that first one was the start of an endless string of them. She leaned forward to kiss the small incision Kelan had made, relieved he’d lowered his knife. Her tears mingled with his blood.
His fingers dug into her hair and fisted it, lifting her head as his mouth smashed against hers. She didn’t know if the blood she tasted was his or hers. At least he wasn’t trying to stab himself any longer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself into their kiss, opening for him, trying to let him see how deeply she loved him.
He slammed his fist on the hood of her SUV, releasing the knife, freeing his hand to hold her against him, to stroke her back, to cup her ass. The kiss ended and started again, in a sloppy, vicious twist of lips and tongues and teeth. The deeper the kiss, the more they both hungered.
He moved her just enough so that he could open the door to the back seat. Bracing his foot on the edge of the car, he lifted her up, over his knee, onto his thigh. Bending her backward, he kissed her chin, her throat, nuzzled the space between her breasts through her T-shirt.
Fiona arched her back, rolling forward on Kelan’s hard thigh. The pressure against her clit sent waves of heat through her body. She whimpered. He gripped her hips, kissing her as he rocked her forward and back, grinding her core against his thigh.
Something broke free inside of her. She clamped her thighs around his big leg and gave herself over to the sensations rolling through her. When they eased somewhat, Kelan ordered in a gruff voice, “Put your legs around me.”
She did as asked. He leaned into her SUV, one knee on the seat as he brought her inside, setting her on the bench seat. She barely noticed the curves of the seat against her side. She just wanted Kelan in there with her.
Kelan unfastened her jeans and pulled them and her panties down to her ankles. He opened his zipper, then settled between her legs. Fee urgently wanted him inside her. She watched as he positioned himself, and then he entered her, filling her, stretching her.
Completing her.
Like this, they were one.
She reached for his face, holding him to her as she kissed him. Tears still spilled down her cheeks as she opened herself to all the sensations pummeling her—his dark, wounded eyes, the desperation in the way he took her, his hands so gentle on her.
Bracing her heels on the bench seat, she pushed up, meeting his thrusts. He held her hips, angling her a little differently. He pushed her shirt up, pulled her bra up over her breasts, then mouthed her hardened nipple. Heat speared her core. She cried out, feeling the beginning waves that would take her to her release. His thumb lightly brushed her clit, sending her headlong over the edge. She wrapped her arms around his waist and thrust against his body, spurring him to longer strokes that only deepened her passion. He was not far behind her. She felt his hot release shoot into her body, and took everything he gave her.
For a long moment afterward, neither of them moved nor spoke. They were both breathing hard. Kelan stared into her eyes as he stroked her face. He withdrew, then pulled back and got out of the car to straighten himself. She did the same.
She took the hand he held out and let him help her from the car. He sheathed his knife, shut the door, then picked her up and carried her back into the house.
“When you can cut the heart out of my chest, then you can go.” He bent when they reached the place where she’d dropped her bag and picked it up. “I have no doubt, none at all, that you’re strong enough to do it. So until then, you stay with me. We’ll spend every moment that we have left together.”
Fiona felt herself crying again. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
*
“Max. The garage went dark. What the fuck’s going on?” Kit barked into his comm unit.
“Um. K and Fiona are having…words.”
“Oh. They okay?”
“Don’t know, and I’m not about to interrupt them to ask. They’ll either bring themselves inside, or we’ll go clean up the blood after a while.”