There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, and I sagged into him. He would be okay. All the emotions he’d buried for so long were raw and still hurting him, but he’d be okay. We’d be okay.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ripped, crumpled piece of paper that looked like it had been soaked in water. He smoothed it out on the glass window and I saw my writing. My words. It was the note I’d written to him when I’d left that day in the rain. I remember thinking he’d never see it.
“Killian,” I whispered. Two tears trailed down my cheeks and he wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. Killian had found my note. He’d kept it like I’d kept the orchid.
“I may have kept myself from you, but you were always with me, Savvy. And fuck, I love you.” His kissed me again before he picked me up in his arms and I hooked my legs around his waist. But he didn’t carry me upstairs; he carried me to his car then walked away.
“Where are you going?” I called.
“To get the fuckin’ orchid then I’m taking you home.”
One year and five months later
I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me to see Killian awake and leaning up against the sleek black headboard, one leg bent and a book balanced against his thigh.
The gray sheet bunched low on his hips, and my eyes flicked to the sparse trail of hairs disappearing beneath the material.
I’d woken up with him every morning for the last year and a half and there wasn’t a single day he didn’t look totally fuckable. But what did me in this morning were the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose that totally clashed with his tattoos and piercings, but made him look sexy as hell. And he damn well knew I thought it was sexy as hell.
Killian flipped his book closed, and I jerked at the abrupt sound. “You didn’t wake me.”
“If I did, we’d be late. It’s almost ten.”
He tossed his book aside, and it landed with a thump on the wooden platform surrounding the mattress. We’d picked out the new bed together several months ago along with sheets and a few throw pillows. The one side of the bed had a row of four large glass squares that lit up with soft green lights. The headboard was solid and black, and had an iron bar running the length of it that curved down both sides.
The iron bar had been the custom part of the bed that Killian had told me in great detail how he was going to use it when he tied me up.
“You could have woken me with your wet pussy on my face or my cock in your mouth,” he drawled.
He removed his glasses then leaned over and placed them on the nightstand. The sheet slipped farther and my sex pulsed. Would I ever get enough of this man?
Killian’s pull ate the space between us and even ten feet away it felt as if I were right next to him.
Last night, he’d stripped off his clothes, crawled into bed then wrapped me up in his arms and fell asleep. He and the guys had been working long nights on the album to get it finished this month. I’d gone to the recording studio with him a number of times, and watching him on the drums was magical.
I walked to the cupboard, my feet sinking into the new white shag carpet that he’d shown up with last month. It was a slow process, and I let him be the one to decorate the warehouse, but he was. There were now throw rugs scattered throughout, and he’d put in an enormous mirrored wall in the open space for me to dance, along with a stereo system that we could play as loud as we wanted since there were no neighbors.
“Drop the towel and come here, Savvy.” His voice was quiet and steady, almost soft.
My body was the complete opposite as it thrummed with desire, excitement and anticipation of his touch. I paused, my hand on the door handle.
I turned around and faced him. I shouldn’t have because there was no way I was denying him anything. Inhaling a quivering breath, I approached the bed.
“Straddle me,” he said.
I knelt on the mattress, threw my leg over his waist, then slowly lowered so his hard cock settled against my wet folds. I shifted forward rubbing him against me, and he groaned.
His eyes met mine. “Fuck, I love you,” he said as his hands spanned my waist. “Never a day will go by that I won’t love you. And never will there be a hint of uncertainty that you belong anywhere else but right here.”
There wasn’t a peppering of goose bumps across my skin; it was a horde of them, and they didn’t pepper; they assaulted. “And I don’t ever want to be anywhere else.”
He cupped my cheeks then tugged me in for a kiss, but I placed my palms on his chest, holding him off.
“We need to be fast. You have to shower before we go.”
He frowned. “We’re not being fast.”
“If we’re late again, we’ll never hear the end of it from Crisis.”
“Fuck him,” Killian growled as he dragged me closer.
“I think I’d rather fuck you.”
He slapped my ass—hard. I squealed to get away, but he rolled, careful not to hurt me as he shifted so he was on top of me, his hands pinning me down. “You think?”
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, he’s pretty charming and so cute with little Melody.”
Killian huffed. I wiggled underneath him
“And you’re good with Drum.”
He slapped my ass again. “Drum is a fuckin’ dog.”
I smiled. “But he’s your dog.”
“Ours.”
“No, Drum is yours, Killian. He doesn’t leave your side and looks up at you like you’re God. You take him everywhere you go and he sits on your lap when we’re on the couch.”
“Savvy, I can’t leave him here by himself while you’re at work, and I have a better lap. He’s smart.”
I secretly smiled because despite how he played it, the little black Pomeranian with tan over his eyes was Killian’s dog even if he’d adopted him for me. There’d even been a picture of him carrying Drum under his arm that went viral. He thought it was ridiculous. I thought it was the sexiest shot I’d ever seen of him.