Just to get him off my back, I decided to suggest the most preposterous thing imaginable. “Fine. You want something bigger, I want something bigger, let’s just open a restaurant together. It can be all modern American and convenient hours. For us. Not our customers.”
He slid off the counter and took my glass of wine from me. Carefully setting it off to the side, he stepped between my legs again and rested his hands on my waist, beneath my t-shirt. Skin to hot, rough, glorious skin.
He tugged me forward so that my thighs wrapped firmly around his hips. He stood tall enough so that we were perfectly lined up, his chest pressed against my chest, his heart beating in rhythm with mine.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he murmured, dropping slow kisses along the line of my jaw.
My mind was already swimming with lust, but not far enough gone to recognize how preposterous that was. “You have not.” I laughed, trying to play off his serious tone and the ridiculous idea.
His lips found mine, and he kissed me deeply, tangling our tongues, bringing our bodies as close together as possible with our clothes still on. “Since your lamb meatballs.”
I pulled back, stunned by the honesty in his tone and the timeline of events. That was so long ago.
He had to be lying.
This was a trick to get in my pants. But newsflash, Killian, I wasn’t exactly playing hard to get!
He didn’t let me dwell on it, though. He closed the distance between us, devouring my mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
My fingers slid through his silky hair, holding him to me while we spent time getting to know each other in intimate ways. He removed my shirt completely, exposing me to the cool air and his sizzling gaze.
He laid me back on the stainless steel prep table, taking in every inch of my body in such an appreciative way that it was impossible to feel self-conscious. I wasn’t skinny. And while I had never been overly embarrassed of what I looked like, it was impossible not to be nervous. But the voracious hunger flashing through those deep green eyes took away whatever anxiety I had.
Killian liked what he saw. Every piece of me.
And then he showed me. Using his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, to taste every inch of my body. He started at my throat and worked his way down. My collarbone. My breasts. Especially my breasts. My stomach. My hips.
He spread my legs apart and spent a maddening amount of time at the apex of my thighs. By the time my panties disappeared, I was a panting mess of desire and need. He coaxed me to relax and whispered about wanting dessert.
My thoughts alternated between, Oh, my God! And Oh, my God, we’re at Lilou!
Then his head disappeared between my legs, and I stopped thinking altogether. He turned me into nothing but feeling and sensation and pleasure.
He was as relentless with my body as he was with everything else in his life. He demanded. He pushed. He took what he wanted. But he gave, too.
He gave so much.
By the time he walked me to my car, I was fully sated—and completely, utterly wrung dry. And so far gone for this man that I didn’t know if I would ever recover.
Derrek had convinced me to love him with tempting possibilities and groundless promises. They hadn’t lasted. They hadn’t been enough. Even without the abuse, Derrek and I wouldn’t have made it. He wasn’t what he said he was. He didn’t live up to everything he offered.
He was less than.
He was empty.
Killian was the opposite. He didn’t convince me to love him; he’d given me so much of himself that the only thing left to do was care about this man. He’d proven himself time and time again to be the man he said he was, the man he wanted to be.
The man I needed.
He hadn’t asked me to trust him; he’d just always been trustworthy. He hadn’t needed me to need him. He was just the man I needed every single day. He hadn’t manipulated me through sugar sweet lies and baseless compliments I wanted to hear. He told me what I needed to hear and left everything else up to me.
He kissed me goodbye one last time, and I drove home with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. For the first time in a long time, I knew who I was, and I knew who the man I loved was.
Love.
Maybe it was only the beginning of love. Maybe the roots were still shallow, and the feeling was still new and green, but it was love.
And it was love for a man I thought I would only ever hate. A man that was my complete opposite in every way and the opposite of everything I thought I wanted.
Thank God for that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next three weeks passed in stolen make-out sessions behind Lilou and morning phone calls that lasted hours. For as much as I’d fought for a place in the food industry, I was starting to hate being a chef.
Or at least, having the hours of one. And Killian’s were worse.
We loved what we did,but officially hated working. I wanted a date. A real one that didn’t involve either of us cooking. I wanted to laugh over dinner and cuddle during a movie, and then I wanted hours and hours to explore his body and finally—finally—take our relationship to the next level.
I was ready. So. Ready.
Which honestly surprised me. Sex with Derrek had been an obligation I fulfilled because I was scared of the consequences if I didn’t. The intimate part of our relationship had been another aspect of my life to control, to assert dominance. It had been enough to scare me away from sex for eternity.
And yet with Killian, I couldn’t seem to hold onto those same skeletons. The ghosts of that traumatic time slipped through my fingers, bone turning to ash, tangible fear disappearing in the wake of trust. Actual trust.
I didn’t fear Killian. I didn’t fear what he would turn sex into or how I would just become another object to use.
It was hard to believe. Especially after so many years, convinced I didn’t need or want sex ever again. I had been happy to ignore that part of me, the part that wanted, desired and hoped. That was easier than imagining opening myself up to a man again. So much easier than letting myself be vulnerable not just physically, but emotionally as well.
Before Killian, the thought of intimacy with any man made me physically ill.
With Killian? With Killian, I couldn’t wait to discover what it would be like, what he would be like. When we kissed, I only wanted to keep kissing. When he touched me, I only wanted him to keep touching me—to never stop.
Because of trust. Because he had opened himself up to me first. Because he was honest and sincere and intentional with me and my heart. Because he had cultivated my confidence, gently at first, then deeper and deeper and deeper until I knew I trusted him. I could trust him in everything. Including a relationship.
He wasn’t Derrek.
He would never be Derrek.
And I would never be the girl that dated Derrek. Never again.