“Tell me it’s because you know you won’t be able to go back to who you were before we met,” he whispers. “Like I won’t.”
“Killian—”
“Tell me it’s because you want me the same way I want you, even though it doesn’t make sense. Even though it’s impossible.”
I can’t catch my breath. He’s inside me, all over me, his weight and his heat and his intensity, and I’m exposed in every way underneath him. I’m nothing but a beating heart and a naked bundle of raw nerves.
He says gently, “Tell me it’s because you know nothing else could ever be as good as this.”
I beg, “Please don’t be sweet. I don’t have any defenses against you when you’re sweet.”
He bends his head to my breasts and nuzzles them, licking my hard nipples, gently testing them with his teeth.
Delirious with pleasure, I moan and arch into his mouth.
He starts a slow, steady motion of his hips, thrusting deep but gently. Greedy for him, I slide my hands underneath his T-shirt and up his back, loving the feel of his muscles as they work. Loving the smoothness and warmth of his skin.
He goes back and forth between my breasts, sucking and licking, cupping them in his huge hands as he flexes his hips. I’m panting. Sweating. Trying desperately not to crumble.
When I’m writhing and shaking, on the edge of another orgasm, he puts his hand around my throat and presses his thumb against my jugular vein.
Then he fucks me harder.
I gasp his name.
He lifts his head from my breasts and puts his mouth next to my ear. His voice is a dark, irresistible command.
“Come.”
I do, instantly.
He groans as I convulse around him, my head tipped back, crying out. My nails dig into the muscles of his back. My thighs clench around his hips. Still hot and wet from his mouth, my nipples throb and ache in the cool air.
He discards the smooth, rolling motion of his hips and pumps into me faster and more frantically. The headboard starts to slam over and over again into the wall. He’s moaning and shaking, pulling my hair.
Then he falls still with a sound like he’s in extreme pain.
My eyes fly open, and I see he’s wearing an expression of extreme pain, too. I say breathlessly, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He answers through a clenched jaw. “Didn’t wear a condom.”
“God, you scared me.” I relax against the mattress, letting the tension drain from my limbs. “Roll over.”
His gaze hazy, he blinks at me in confusion. “Why?”
“Do you want to come in my mouth or not?”
He stops breathing. Then, in a flash, he’s on his back and I’m straddling him, smiling down into his fierce, wild-eyed face.
I whisper, “That’s what I thought, gangster.”
I roll my hips, and he groans. He reaches up to fondle my bare breasts. His eyes drift shut. I flatten my hands over his broad chest and roll my hips again, grinding my clit against his pelvis.
“You’re drenched,” he says faintly. “Your pussy is so wet. So hot. So fucking—”
He breaks off with another groan when I start to grind faster, finding a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure surging through me and makes my breasts bounce in his hands.
He grabs my hips and thrusts up into me, his body jerking, all the tendons standing out in his neck.
“You’re so hard for me.” I gasp. “Oh god. I’m going to come again. Killian. Killian—”
He pinches both my nipples at the same time. I climax, shuddering and moaning on top of him, my head thrown back.
“Baby—ah fuck, I can’t—I can’t—”
A deep, broken moan breaks from his chest. He falls completely still, every muscle in his body straining. I barely have enough time to scramble off him and take his throbbing cock into my mouth before he’s spilling onto my tongue. I wrap my hand around his shaft and suck.
His fingers twisted in my hair, he thrusts up into my mouth, shouting.
It’s a strange sort of elation I feel, watching him fall apart. Watching as he completely loses himself to the pleasure I’m giving him with my mouth and my hands, with every stroke and slide of my tongue. He’s so huge, so strong and powerful, but he’s helpless, jerking into my mouth uncontrolled, calling out my name like a prayer.
I close my eyes and swallow every drop of what he gives me.
Along with it goes my final shreds of denial that this thing between us is going to be anything but a total catastrophe.
I knew it, but it wasn’t until just now that I accepted it.
We’re going to burn each other to the ground.
I awake sometime later on my side, nestled against him, my head resting on his chest and my leg caught between his. The room is dark except for the small blue light glowing on the cable box on the dresser across the room. Beneath my ear, Killian’s heart is a slow and steady thump.
He murmurs, “You said my name in your sleep.”
I hope he’s making that up because otherwise, I’m going to die of humiliation. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Not around you.”
Toying with my hair, he presses a kiss to the top of my head. His so big and warm and comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. I could stay right here in this bed for the rest of my life.
“I have a question for you.”
“Hmm.”
“How do you always know where to find me?”
His voice achingly gentle, he says, “The same way a compass knows how to find true north.”
Oh shit. He’s being sweet again. I shut my eyes and draw a slow, steadying breath.
He gives me a squeeze, chuckling. “Such a big softie,” he whispers.
“Look who’s talking. And compasses don’t point true north. They point to magnetic north, which isn’t the same thing.”
“I know. But it wouldn’t have had the same romantic ring to it. True north being a euphemism for—”
“Don’t say it,” I beg. “God. Please. Are you trying to kill me, or what?”
“No, lass. Just trying to scale the fortress walls.”
“Well, stop it.”
“No.”
I exhale in a ragged gust. I swear, I’m going to need some kind of cardiac surgery after this. A quadruple bypass, at the very least.
We lie in silence for a moment, long enough for my pulse to return to near normal levels. My fingers decide to take a lingering stroll over the architecture of his abdomen. His skin is satin. His abs are steel. When I lightly trace the outline of his belly button with my forefinger, a delicate shudder runs through his chest.
I whisper, “Killian?”
“Aye, lass?”
“If I asked you to give a million dollars to the Red Cross, would you do it?”
“Of course.” Thoughtful pause. “Are you asking?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Done.”
“Okay. Thank you.” It’s my turn to pause. “How will I know?”
His voice turns warm. “I’ll think of something. Any other charitable donations you’d like me to make, while we’re on the topic?”
Thinking, I run my finger around and around that fascinating little indentation in the middle of his hard belly. I resist the urge to lean down and stroke it with my tongue. “Um. Probably? But…”