Killian says my name again. This time it’s barely audible. Our gazes are locked together. We’re not touching, but every inch of my skin feels him. Every cell in my body feels burned by his heat.
My pulse roaring in my ears, I say quietly, “Once. One time. One night. That’s it, then it’s over.”
Killian doesn’t wait for me to draw my next breath before he jolts to his feet, throws cash onto the bar, picks me up, and strides out of the restaurant, carrying me in his arms.
19
Jules
My hotel is only a few minutes from the restaurant, but the drive there seems like it takes forever.
I feel every tiny bump in the road. Every frantic beat of my heart. Every loud rev of the engine as Killian stomps his foot against the gas pedal when a traffic light turns from red to green.
Before we took off, he buckled me into the passenger seat and kissed me, hard, one hand around my throat and the other fisted in my hair. When he broke away, it seemed as if it took everything he had to leave me sitting there instead of tearing off my safety belt, pushing me face down onto the seat, ripping off my panties, and shoving inside me, right there in the parking lot.
I know exactly how he feels.
Every nerve ending in my body screams for him. For what I know he’ll give me.
For release.
The only thing I remember from the trip from the parking spot in front of the motel to my room are the ravenous kisses in the elevator. His mouth so hot. His body so hard. His hands shaking as they roved all over me. By the time we’re standing in front of my door, my hands are shaking, too, so badly I drop the key twice before he rips it out of my hands and unlocks the door himself.
He pushes me inside, kicks the door shut behind him, grabs me, and throws me down onto the bed.
I bounce once before he’s on me.
I feel dwarfed underneath him. He’s so big and deliciously heavy. His weight makes me sink into the mattress. Makes me feel weirdly safe, like his bulk alone could protect me from anything.
His mouth. Oh, god, his mouth. I could drown in these kisses.
When I moan, he breaks away, breathing raggedly.
“Am I hurting you?”
Dazed, I blink, looking up into his face. His eyes are wild. His nostrils are flared. His lips are wet from my kisses. He’s so beautiful, it’s physically painful. Looking at him is like having an arrow shot straight through my heart.
I whisper, “No. But if you do, I don’t want it to stop you. If I’m bruised tomorrow, so be it.”
I sink my hands into his hair and pull his head down. His mouth meets mine as he’s exhaling a groan.
We kiss until I’m squirming underneath him, dizzy and mewling, rocking my hips into his. Long and hard, his erection is trapped between us.
The dress I’m wearing is one I bought at the tourist boutique. It’s a gauzy, flowing thing, patterned with tropical flowers. When he rears up onto his knees and grabs the neckline, it rips apart like gossamer in his hands. He shoves up my bra impatiently.
Then I get his beautiful hot mouth on my breasts, devouring them.
I arch, moaning. My head tips back. My eyes slide shut. The feel of him sucking my hard nipples—one after the other, back and forth—is so insanely pleasurable I know if he kept it up, I’d climax from that alone.
I dig my fingers deeper into his hair, pulling on it. Rocking my hips. Gasping for air.
He pinches the nipple he’s not sucking on. I jerk, whimpering.
What am I doing? What the hell am I DOING?
Don’t think. Just feel. You can hate yourself tomorrow.
Suddenly, his mouth disappears. He rears back to sit on his heels and stare down at me. His chest heaving, he licks his lips. Then he shoves the skirt of my dress up to my hips, puts his face between my legs, and inhales deeply against my panties.
It’s so carnal and raw. So animal.
At any other time and with any other person, I would die of embarrassment. But with him, I simply spread my legs wider. I watch, heart pounding, as he pulls my panties aside and exposes me.
He whispers, “Fuck, baby. Look at you.” He leans down and presses the gentlest of kisses right on