He reached for a container and a pair of chopsticks. I thought he was going to pass them to me, but instead, Killian fed me a mouthful of curry pad Thai.
The music came on when Chris Pratt walked through the cave. Killian lifted his head and glanced at the screen.
He nibbled on my ear. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
And that was how we ate. Sitting on the couch, wrapped in one another’s arms as he fed us curry pad Thai, mango chicken, rice noodles, and a few items with names I didn’t know, but everything was delicious.
“Enough?” he asked when I shook my head to another spring roll.
“Yes, thank you.”
He bit into the spring roll over the top of my shoulder so the crumbs would fall into the container. Who would’ve thought the sound of a crunch could be sensual.
But it was. Everything about this was. Him expertly using the chopsticks was attractive.
My sex throbbed and my body thrummed with anticipation when I considered his idea of play as we finished eating. But Killian set the container down and leaned back, his arms around me, one hand flat on my stomach and the other lower, inches away from my sex.
“Breathe,” he whispered next to my ear. Then his pierced tongue ran the length of my neck and my belly flipped.
But he didn’t do anything more than hold me and kiss my neck as we watched the movie. And eventually, I relaxed and snuggled into him. He threw his leg over the top of mine, and I loved the weight of it on me.
His chest vibrated as he laughed at something in the movie and I realized it didn’t matter that his place was empty and bare.
Killian was what made this place warm and inviting.
It was him. The way he was. Who he was. I just wasn’t sure if that who was right for me long term. If he was even thinking long term.
I noticed the punching bag over in the far corner. It was red and hung from a thick chain. I wondered if he used it and then remembered his bruised knuckles. Had his knuckles been due to punching the bag or his father?
I looked at his right hand and ran my fingertips over his knuckles. They were calloused, and there was a hint of a scab still on the right index knuckle. I circled it, then slipped his hand in mine and lifted it to my mouth and kissed the wound.
He stiffened. “If you want to ask me something, ask, Savvy.”
I lowered his hand and tilted my head to look at him. “Did you hit your father the other night?”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
I thought about it for a second. I didn’t like fighting, but Killian had never done it for fun. There’d always been something driving him, and his father was part of that. “No. And yes.” I rested my hand on top of his. “No, because after seeing Lucifer, I think he deserves it. And yes, because I don’t want to see you hurt.”
He snorted. “He could never hurt me, Savvy.”
“But he has.”
His chest rose and fell, and his arms tightened around me. “Yes. And now I’m hurting him.”
“Compass? And the horses?”
“His clubs can’t compete with Compass. We made sure of it. Best dancers. Brett’s name. Safe. Clean. No drugs. He goes under, he loses everything.”
No drugs. Killian had always hated drugs in school. “Why do you care? I mean if you don’t like him, what does it matter?” I stroked his knuckles. “He makes you angry. Like when you were a kid.” It wasn’t a question. He’d already told me his father blamed him for his mom’s death.
“The knuckles are from the bag and from Logan sparring with me. I took your advice, Savvy. I hit a bag instead of a person. Took me a while, but after the raid, shit changed for me.” He slipped out from under me and stood.
I reached up and dipped my fingers in the waistband of his pajamas. “I liked you then, and I like you now, Killian. I’m just not sure if we want the same things.”
His fingers curled around my wrist that was holding his pants, and he slowly dragged them down while I held them. His cock sprung free and his pants pooled on the floor.
“We want the same fuckin’ things, Savvy.”
“A home? Family? Kids?” I asked.
He scowled, jaw clenching. “It will work.”
“Killian, I can’t do it again. Be with someone for years and find out they don’t want what I do.”
“Don’t ever compare me to that asshole,” he ground out.
“I’m not comparing you to him. You’re nothing like him. I’m being clear as to what I want, and I want a home.”
“You can’t deny that you want me.”
“I’m not. I do.” But eventually that wouldn’t be enough.
“Just you. That’s all I need. And I need you right now.” His eyes trailed down my naked body then back up again to meet my eyes. “You ready to play, Savvy?”
My eyes widened and my breath locked in my throat. I nodded.
He shook his head. “No, baby. I need words. Unless of course my cock is in your mouth or you’re gagged.”
Holy fucking shit.
My sex pulsed, throbbed, quivered and my voice crackled as I said, “Yes.”
“Good. Finish watching the movie. I’ll clean up first.”
He was going to leave me like this? My body aching for his touch while he cleaned up—naked.
“I’ll help,” I said, rising and the sheet falling to the floor. I sure as hell couldn’t concentrate on a movie now.
“Like fuck.” He hooked my waist when I went to grab a few empty containers. “Sit. Watch your movie.” He smirked. “Or watch me. But I want you here on the couch waiting for me.” He ran his hand down my body to my mound and slid his fingers on either side of the folds. “Christ. Soaked.”
I arched into him moaning as his finger circled my entrance, but he didn’t put it inside me. Instead, he dragged his wet fingertips up my body all the way to my mouth. He didn’t have to ask this time as I opened my mouth. He slipped his finger inside and I tasted myself.
“Sit,” he urged.
I did.
He put his hands on my thighs and gently spread them apart. “Stay like that.”
“What?”