by Anne Malcom
I frowned at him. “Only if you kiss me, right now, Mr. Decesare.”
His eyes flared with hunger and desire darkened his voice. “That I can do. I can’t promise I’ll stop with a kiss.”
I ran my hand through his inky hair. “Who said anything about stopping?”
His mouth was on mine before I could even suck in a breath after speaking. He claimed me the way he did ever since he took me home from the hospital. With a furious, almost desperate intensity and a heartbreaking tenderness. His kiss was relentless, yet his hands trailing down my body were achingly reverent.
He growled into my mouth as his hands slipped underneath my skirt and into my panties. “This is too fuckin’ short.”
“Alpha cavemen act after, now you fuck me,” I commanded huskily, my breath catching as his expert fingers found my magic spot.
Killian let out a guttural sound at the back of his throat as he lowered us onto the sofa I’d been sitting on moments before. He still worked me between my legs as I scrambled to get to his jeans and survive his kiss at the same time. And survive the electrifying heat he was building up at the base of my spine.
“I can’t send you out on stage lookin’ freshly fucked for thousands of people to see. It’s enough you just bein’ you. Singin’ like a goddamn angel while lookin’ like the devil himself created you just to torture everyone who can’t be in here.” He pushed his finger inside me to make a point. “There’s only one person who belongs in here, freckles. It’s where I’ve always belonged. My sanctuary.” I gasped when on his last word his cock replaced his finger and filled me to the hilt.
He settled into a hard and slow rhythm, his mouth brushing over mine as I met him thrust for thrust, desperate for more, aching for him as if I hadn’t been with him for months. For years.
“Nothing sweeter,” he grunted, eyes on mine. “Nothing sweeter in this world than tasting your lips on mine, feeling you squeeze around my cock.”
As if on cue, my body did that, pulsing around him as he worked me to a climax. I cried out and Killian covered my mouth with his to muffle my cry and to plunder my lips with his kiss. I rode the glorious wave while my fingers raked underneath the fabric of his tee, scratching the taut and sinewy muscles that were tight with exertion. He grunted his own release into me, and the entire time, his eyes stayed glued to mine, a million and one emotions dancing in them.
He pressed his ear to my chest like he did every single time we made love, settling only long enough to hear the rapid beating of my heart against his ear. He lifted his face once more, and I regarded it lazily, still not quite able to think properly.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?”
“We’re cancelling the show,” he declared, not moving off me, not that I was protesting.
My brows knitted together at his words. “We’re not cancelling the show. It’s in five minutes. Mark will be knocking on that door any moment.” I nodded to the door that led out of my dressing room.
“Don’t care. You’re too fuckin’ beautiful freshly fucked. I’m gonna have to stand in front of you with my gun to make sure people don’t swarm the stage. I’m not even sure bullets will be enough deterrent.”
I raised my brow. “You’re only saying that because you’re biased. You love me and you married me, so it’s only logical you find me beautiful.”
Killian’s hands went to my neck and his eyes blazed. “Baby, a fuckin’ blind man would find you beautiful. It’s not the way you look. It’s you. You radiate it. Seeps out of your pores and into the air. Add your voice to that.” He paused. “Suffice to say, I’m fucked.”
I grinned at him. “So am I.”
He growled in warning.
“No, seriously. Do you know how many websites are dedicated to you? How many photos of you are most likely being circulated on women’s phones?”
Killian didn’t answer.
“Of course you don’t, because you’re a hot, brooding biker man who doesn’t pay attention to such things. You’re too busy being all broody and badass, which of course makes you even hotter,” I informed him.
Killian brushed my nose with his. “You think I’m hot, freckles?” he teased.
“I wouldn’t have married you otherwise,” I teased back.
We got married one week after I got released from the hospital, as per Killian’s demand, not that I minded. I would have been happy to marry him in a hospital bed, but it wasn’t exactly the best atmosphere.
Due to the media following us around in hordes, it had been a huge undertaking to get married without the press getting wind of anything. But we managed it. Mainly because we didn’t fuss. It wasn’t a big, glitzy Hollywood wedding. It wasn’t thousands of dollars and an A-list guest list. It was my family—my band, the Sons of Templar, Mom and Zane, the boys, and Gina and Emma. I knew Steve and Ava were there too, watching over us.
We’d gotten married inside the Sons of Templar compound. Not exactly what you’d expect for a celebrity wedding, but exactly what you’d expect for Killian and me. It was the place where I’d first met him, the club that made him who he was. It was perfect. Zane walked me down the makeshift aisle, his hand tight on mine.
I would have been emotional at this, at the fact Mom sobbed when she saw me in my vintage lace, skintight, ivory dress with a plunging neck and flowers woven into my curls. If I’d seen that even Steg’s eyes were suspiciously red. If I’d focused on my boys, standing next to Emma as my “bridesmaids.” I didn’t see any of them. They melted away. The only person I saw was the man at the end of the altar dressed in all black and with my name tattooed on his chest. The one I’d given my heart to when I was sixteen and who’d owned it ever since. He’d frozen in place, and I thought I might have too, had it not been for Zane gently pulling me along. Zane kissed my cheek lightly and murmur into my ear, “Love you, Lex.”
It was the only moment I took my eyes off Killian, to gaze into the ones of the man who I considered my father. “To the moon, Zane,” I whispered.
His eyes twinkled and he left the altar with a nod to Killian.
I turned my body to face Killian, and once more, there was only us.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, freckles,” he murmured, his eyes roving over me.
“So are you,” I choked out.
The ceremony was a blur, all that mattered was that Killian was in front of me. We could have been standing at the top of a burning building and I wouldn’t have worried as long as Killian’s strong hands were gripping in mine.
Then we were married. And then he dragged me off down the aisle, not letting trivial things like ceremony and tradition stop him from taking me to our hotel suite and locking us there for the next three days.
Of course the press had caught wind of the wedding as soon as we unearthed ourselves from our cocoon, and they’d gone crazy with it. Granted, the biker who saved his rock star girlfriend from a crazy stalker was a pretty good story. And the fact we were childhood sweethearts had been found out along the way. It was safe to say things were insane. Killian hated it. His jaw went hard whenever he had to push through a sea of photographers, shielding me with his body. But it was a part of my life, one he accepted as he knew it wasn’t going away. He accepted it, but he didn’t have to like it.
Though the paps weren’t nearly as rabid around him as they previously had been. I think it had a lot to do with his cut and the fact he radiated real danger, the kind that even the craziest of paps recognized and bowed down to.
A knock on the door jolted us out of our little world.
“Lillian, get out of each other’s pants. We’ve got a continent to rock,” Sam yelled through the door. The tabloids were still obsessed with us, we even had our own ‘couple name’. Though Sam proudly admitted to People magazine that he’d christened us that before anyone else thought it up. Like he deserved a Nobel Prize or something.
“Coming, Sam!” I yelled back, putting my hand over
Killian’s mouth before he could swear at one of my best friends.
“Ew, Lexie, I didn’t need to know that,” Sam groaned from outside the door.
I giggled and Killian’s eyes went stormy. He and Sam were back to being friends after everything; all of my boys got along once more. That didn’t mean Killian wasn’t protective to the max, even when it came to Sam’s stupid jokes.
When Sam’s footsteps filtered underneath the door, Killian carefully pulled out of me and lifted us both off the sofa. He took hold of my hand to lead me to the bathroom. His hands went to my hips and he lifted me onto the basin. I gasped slightly at the cool porcelain on my sensitive flesh. Killian’s gaze went dark before he shook himself and got a warm washcloth to clean me.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” he murmured, stepping between my legs once he’d finished.
I rested my forehead on his. “I’m ready. More than ready. I need to get back on that stage, Kill. Need to sing again.”
It was the first date of our Europe tour. We’d obviously had to push it back on account of the whole “me getting shot” thing, which happened to be the reason Killian was accompanying me on the entire tour as my husband and unofficial security. Even though, I guessed, if I hadn’t gotten shot by my murderous stalker, he still would have come.
I didn’t think I would have been able to handle an ocean between us anyway. No, I knew I couldn’t handle an ocean between us. He needed to be here by my side, which was where he’d been since the moment I’d woken up in that hospital bed. And where he’d been through my recovery—through my flashbacks, night terrors, and everything in between.
He regarded me, searching my face for something. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Just love you so fuckin’ much, Lexie. I’m in total awe of you.”
My heart did a skip. “Ditto.”
We bathed in the silence of the moment before Killian lifted me to set me down on my feet. “Ready to bring the world to your feet, freckles?”
I stroked his jaw. “Only with you by my side.”
He yanked my body flush to his. “Forever, baby.”
*****
“Hello, Berlin!” I screamed into the mic.
The returning scream was so loud, it seemed to make my body vibrate. The crowd in front of us was unlike anything we’d ever seen. The fans were wild and pulsating with energy. The tour was already looking to be the most insane yet, with all the drama of my personal life skyrocketing us into something more than a band.
“It’s so good to be back on stage and hanging out with you all.”
Another roar.
I smiled to the horde. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on stage, and the last time I was on one, I didn’t have a song for the person I sang for, who I always sing for.” I paused and looked to the side of the stage where Killian was watching me raptly. I tore my gaze from him to touch on each of my boys. They were all grinning.
“Now I do.”
I didn’t let anymore words come out of me, just music. I closed my eyes and poured my heart into the song I’d written for Killian. For me. For us.
As the song ended, I was almost knocked out by the energy of the crowd, the high from their energy better than any narcotic on the planet. Though I didn’t get much time to ride that high, considering Killian strode out onto the stage, ignoring the increase in the pulsating roar with his appearance. He only had eyes for me, and when he got to me, my guitar was gone and he was there, right there. And then he kissed me, like he hadn’t been inside me moments ago. Like we weren’t married or been each other’s since we were kids. No, it was like the first time outside my house in Amber all those years ago. Full of something and everything, and silence settled over me as the crowd fell away.
I’d found my silence and I’d live in it forever.
ONE YEAR LATER
“You know I don’t like surprises, right?”
Killian grinned and kept his hands around Lexie’s tight little body. “I had heard that.”
She let out a little humph but let him lift her from her Jeep. Killian would have liked to take his bike, but then he wouldn’t have been able to make sure she kept that blindfold up.
His girl fuckin’ hated surprises. She bitched and moaned the entire car ride. It made Killian grin the whole way, his hand gripped firmly in hers. That’s what his life was now. Fuckin’ smiles. Light.
It wasn’t perfect. He’d give his left nut to get rid of the paps that had become enamored with their relationship. They were even more obsessed with Lexie after she’d survived the stalker attack.
The band had reached heights he hadn’t even dreamed of since everything went down. It wasn’t because of the drama that erupted from the stalker, though that was part of it.
Mostly it was because his girl was fuckin’ magnificent. She seemed to shine brighter with every show. The songs she sang no longer shattered him with the weight of the heartbreak in the words. They chased away any residual darkness that lurked when he saw her on stage.
He never missed a show.
Never.
Despite the fact he had a charter to head and Lexie and the band were all over the fuckin’ world at any given time, he did it. Because Lexie always was, and always would be, the first thing in his life.
He couldn’t have her on a stage without his eyes on her. ‘Cause memories of her almost dying on one assaulted him every time she went on. They punctured his gut and reminded him of that hell he’d gotten a taste of. Of the worst day of his fuckin’ life.
Not that he told Lexie that.
She’d already conquered the demons of that day; she didn’t need his. Though she was conquering them just by being. Just by being his. Just by smiling and singing to him every single night. Exploding around his cock whenever he was inside her, which was fuckin’ often. He would spend the rest of his life inside her, gladly, but the outside world demanded Lexie, and Killian had to let her go. But she was his. His ring was on her finger and his mark on her body.
He still remembered the day she’d come home to their Malibu house. The Calabasas one was no longer Lexie’s; she didn’t want the memories that came with it.
Killian had been sitting on the sofa, beer in his hand and contemplating how he’d stop Gage from startin’ a fuckin’ war with a street gang over some bitch he’d become obsessed with, when Lexie walked in.
As usual, all other thoughts left him the moment she entered a room and his cock stood to attention. His eyes followed her as she dumped her shit on the breakfast bar and immediately made her way to him.
Instead of curling into his arms and treating him to the honey of her mouth, she stood in front of him, a strange look on her beautiful face.
He immediately put his beer down. “You okay, freckles?” he asked with concern. After the day he felt her heart stop underneath his hands, he was always ready, always bracing. ‘Cause now he knew what the world could take away from him, so the fear always lurked underneath it all, settling in the corner of his mind in a way that Killian knew would never leave. He knew it was the same for Bull, who called Lexie every day, and Mia, who called twice a day and visited every spare moment.
He got it.
Once you knew that the world could turn black in a moment, every shadow was a demon, haunting you with the reminder that it could chase away the light in the blink of an eye.
Lexie chewed her lip. Killian’s dick twitched, despite his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I’ve just got something… to show you.”
Killian’s brow rose and he leaned forward, grasping Lexie’s hips and yanking her between his legs. He ran his hands up the sides of her body. She was in another fuckin’ hippy getup that made his blood rush to one place. This time it was a floral dress with floppy sleeves and heaps of fabric hiding the slim curve of Lexie’s body. It ended far too close to her ass, but thigh-high boots covered most of her caramel tanned l
egs, not that they were any better. Killian decided he would fuck her wearing only those boots.
His hand shifted down from the sides of her dress to move up to her inner thigh.
“If it’s what’s under this dress, baby, I’m more than happy to stare at it all day,” he rasped, his hand rising up.
Lexie’s smaller hand stopped his ascent as she let out a little grasp. “Yeah, well, it’s not that.” She paused, her eyes going lazy. “Not right now.”
Killian glanced up at her, desire pulsing through his veins. He was surprised at Lexie stopping him. There was a first for everything.
“What is it, baby?”
She swallowed visibly and moved his hand off her body, and he reluctantly rested it on his knee. He watched, captivated as she shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool at her feet. Her eyes never left his and he struggled against the desire to look into them forever or to run his gaze along her tight little body.
It was something that flickered at the edge of his vision that made his decision for him. It was the bandage overtop of the scar that was burned into his brain, one that he had committed to memory.
Panic took him over for a split second before he recognized the nature of the bandage.
“Baby,” he rasped, his voice thick.
“Zane told me who did yours. They came up specially today to do this for me,” she said, her voice small.
Killian was frozen in place as he watched her tiny, shaking hand pull off the bandage to reveal ink that took his fuckin’ breath away. His eyes were glued to it and he was unable to move at what was in front of his eyes. A padlock, identical to the one on his chest, covered the scar that haunted his dreams. It was fresh and pink at the sides, disguising the place where he’d almost lost her. The key lying underneath the padlock had one name carved on the handle.
Killian.
He couldn’t say anything. Something choked the middle of his throat, a lump that was hard to swallow. Hard to fuckin’ breath around. The only thing he could do was stare at the ink on her skin. At his name on that beautiful body.