by Cecy Robson
My fingers slowed. I wasn’t sure why my thoughts had crept into breakup territory then. While I remained insecure in many aspects of our relationship, I couldn’t deny that we made each other happy.
I stopped typing, the more I thought things through. Yes, we were happy. But happiness didn’t always last forever.
I cleared my throat, trying to push negative stuff away. “Do you want me to pay your utilities and mortgage for the month?” I called out.
There was a brief pause. “You can do that?”
“If you want me to.”
“How much will that leave me with if you do?”
I glanced at the profit section on the screen. “About seven Gs not counting what you have in savings.”
“I have savings?”
My curls bounced against my shoulders when I laughed. “Yes. I fixed it so ten percent of any profit goes into a savings account.”
“What about the fucking taxes?”
“That’s drawn into a separate account.” I stared at the closed door. “Didn’t you read my memo?”
“What memo?”
I shook my head. It was a wonder he’d managed as far as he had without me. “The one outlining everything my program does. I emailed it to you three weeks ago.”
“Were there naked photos of you attached?”
My cheeks heated, but I laughed anyway. “Um, no.”
His response wasn’t even the least bit apologetic. “Then why would I open that shit?”
“Killian!”
I could hear the water draining as he released the plug. “So let me get this straight, I’ve got savings, profit, and my bills are paid.”
I hit the tab to pay the bills. “Yup. All done.”
“Baby, I don’t think you’ve ever been hotter.”
The phone rang next to me. I answered it laughing, expecting it to be Finn with the insurance information I’d asked for. “Hello?”
For a moment, there was only silence, then the shrill tone belonging to a familiar voice yelled, “So-fia?”
It wasn’t Finn. It wasn’t Wren. It wasn’t any of Kill’s friends, or his brothers, or anyone else I might have expected. But I knew who it was. And knowing sent me into full-blown panic mode. My mouth opened and closed several times, my tongue went dry, and I almost dropped the phone.
“It is you, isn’t it?” the woman with the thick Irish accent asked.
“Ah, yes, he-hello, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Why, dear. What might you be doing at my little Killian’s house so late?”
Her “little Killian.” Oh, Jesus. Oh, Mary and Joseph, too. I’d defiled her favorite son!
Like an ass, I tried to cover myself. Killian stepped out of the bathroom. He rubbed his soaking wet hair with a towel as his goods went into full “are you ready to do naughty thing to me?” form.
He frowned. “Wassup?”
I clasped my hand over the mouthpiece and squeaked. “Your mother is on the phone.”
“Is she sick?”
“No.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
My chest tightened. I was having the big one. I knew it then. “She knows I’m, like, here.”
“Yeah?”
“With you.” He stared at me as if unable to understand. “At night.”
He threw back his head, laughing.
“Killian!”
He took the phone from me and hit the speaker button, then sprawled across the bed on his stomach, his firm yet supple bare ass within patting distance.
Mrs. O’Brien had kept chatting in that adorable little accent of hers, asking about my mother while I lay in bed with her naked son. I tried to cover him up, which made him laugh harder as he spoke into the phone. “Hi, Mama.”
“Killian, me boy. What is the lovely Sofia doing there at night?”
“My accounting.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. He’d provided a genuine and truthful explanation. Thank you, God.
“Just your accounting, my darlin’?”
“No. She’s living with me, too.”
“Living with you?” she repeated.
I clutched the sheet against my breasts, which only widened his grin. “Don’t worry, Mama. We’re using the rhythm method, since it worked so well for you and Papa.”
He scrambled off the bed when I started beating him with a pillow. “Now, Killian. Don’t you be spoilin’ the lovely Sofia.”
Killian’s eyes shimmered as he tried speaking through his laughter. “I’m trying not to, Mama, but the way she lures me to bed makes it hard.”
I fell back into bed, covering my face with the pillow.
“Don’t be blaming little Sofia,” Mrs. O’Brien reprimanded. “You’re the one doin’ all the lurin’, I’m sure of it.”
I peeked around the edges of my pillow only to have Killian say, “See? She doesn’t care that we’re having sex.” And no, he didn’t bothering covering the phone so she couldn’t hear that.
Killian plopped into bed beside me. They spoke a little bit longer. Turned out Mama O’Brien had called to tell him she’d won six hundred dollars playing the penny slots. Nice, just nice.
He was still laughing when he disconnected and heard the whimper escape my throat. “Your mother knows we’re having sex.”
“Yeah?”
I sat up. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“That we’re having sex? Of course not.”
I shoved his shoulder for all the good it did me. Might as well have shoved the Rock of Gibraltar. He hooked my arm and rolled me onto my back, kissing me so sweetly and deeply I melted against him.
Despite my embarrassment only seconds before, I couldn’t stop my smile as his teeth nipped my chin. “Just so you know, my mother’s been wanting us together since that day you knocked on our door and brought me M and Ms and two of Teo’s old Matchbox cars.”
My lips parted as my mind latched on to that memory. “You remember that?”
He grinned. “The M and Ms were in a little sandwich bag and the cars were a tiny rusted convertible and a little green jeep.”
I thought of that day and how I’d scrambled to find a ribbon to tie around the bag. The candy was the last of my Easter stash, but I’d wanted him to have it.
His finger hooked on the strap of my nightie, letting it slide down the silky fabric. “We’d been living there less than a year when the lot of us came down with chicken pox. For some reason, I got it the worst.”
My hands smoothed over his chest to cup his shoulders. “I know. It was three weeks before you could leave your house.” It made me a little sad, recalling that time. Not just because Killian had been sick, but because my father had decided to come home and stay. Teo, Lety, and I found any excuse not to be inside, scared we’d do something to set Carlos off. “I had no one to play with.”
His grin softened. “And I didn’t feel like doing anything but sleep until I saw those cars.” His lips passed along my neck, stopping to whisper in my ear. “You’ve always been good to me.”
I lowered my eyes. “And you’ve always made me smile…even when I didn’t have much to smile about.”
His humor faded, understanding taming the glimmer in his eyes. “Come here.” He rolled me on top of him, pulling me into a deep kiss. The heat from his lips and the contact of his naked body warmed me instantly. It didn’t take my hand long to wander past his stomach, knowing he wouldn’t touch me unless I touched him first.
And man, did I ever want him to touch me.
The two bedside lights were on, as was the fan light overhead. I left them that way, wanting to see more of him. I broke our kiss to speak softly against his ear, his breath hitching as I gripped him tighter. “I want to put you in my mouth,” I told him.
I wasn’t really asking for permission, knowing he wouldn’t deny me. It was more to prepare him for what I most wanted then. He slipped off my nightie, his deep grunts assuring me he
liked what I had to say and do.
My body glided down his. The position we lay in gave me a full view of our reflection in the oval dresser mirror. I let my long curls fall around me so they could hide my face, not wanting him to know that I wanted to watch. I needed to see what I did to him, and how he reacted to my strong pulls and suction. Regardless of our time in bed, traces of my timidity remained.
Killian sat up and yanked down my panties, slowing his efforts as he reached my ankles. I suppose he realized he was being aggressive and didn’t want to frighten me. Thing was, I was too into the moment to be afraid. My lips worked harder to prove it. He fell onto his back, swearing and hauling my thighs to him. I remained on top, continuing while he wrenched my hips downward.
The visual in the mirror was of two famished souls, eager with appetite and very swift-moving mouths. I tried to keep going deeper, moving faster, but Killian’s sucks became too much. I arched back, watching my face redden as I orgasmed.
My body thrashed above his. I shrieked out of control. As the rush subsided and my legs weakened, it took all I had not to collapse on top of him. I swayed slightly, drunk from his touch. I finished him, his release happening soon after the end of mine.
His head fell away from between my thighs, his hips bucking hard. My hand slowed, careful not to hurt the oversensitized flesh. But the more I stroked, the more my need to taste him again consumed me. Once more, I wrapped my lips around him.
Killian writhed beneath me, groaning loudly. I continued to take in our reflection, fascinated and aroused by how easily and naturally I pleased him.
When he was fully erect, he rolled out from under me and placed me on my hands and knees, directly in front of the mirror. Seeing his face in the reflection reinforced that it was Killian behind me and settled the fear the position caused me.
Now he also had a better view, too.
I whimpered as he rubbed his rigid head against my tantalized skin. “You have any idea what you do to me?” he rasped.
I didn’t answer, but I don’t think he expected me to, nor did he wait. Killian eased himself inside me, his spine arching as he advanced.
My need made me aggressive. I tightened around him and rocked, yanking him with me and then shoving him back, taking control. I continued the motion, leading him to me, sending him back, each pull faster and faster until our bodies pounded against each other.
My concentration wavered as another orgasm built. I shuddered, begging Killian for more. He complied eagerly, slamming into me as our eyes remained transfixed by our united bodies.
I gritted my teeth, unable to bite back the screams belting out of me, each peak of ecstasy climbing higher than the one before. My strength finally caved and I toppled onto my side. But Killian wasn’t done.
He flipped my leg onto his shoulder. I couldn’t see us anymore, but I could see him and how he reacted when I placed my hand between my legs.
He watched me rub, his gaze heating with lust as my other hand reached beneath him to play.
My response fueled his until the sounds of slapping skin filled the room. Killian roared, finishing as I reached another epic peak, my jolts so out of control, I had to burrow my fingers into the mattress.
Killian collapsed onto his side, breathing raggedly, the tilt of his hips slowly subsiding. He kept us joined even when his movements ceased, slinking his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. Our bodies remained heated. I didn’t dare reach for the throw blanket crumpled near my head. Instead, I wrapped my arm against his, keeping him in place.
We stayed, unmoving, holding each other close. But when our breaths slowed, and our bodies cooled, he pulled out. For as passionate as our lovemaking had been, he used great care to lift me and place me beneath the warm softness of his comforter. I watched him as he crossed the room to shut the bedroom door and flip off the lights, captivated by his rugged sexiness and the strength of his body.
Killian O’Brien was my man. I knew it then.
Just like I knew I was totally his.
I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but it seemed like such a stupid thing to say after sex. No matter how much I meant it.
The last light he reached for was the one on the bedside stand. He waited before turning the switch, watching me as I made room for him beside me. “Come to bed,” I whispered when he continued to take me in.
He fumbled with the switch, keeping me in his sights. With one click we were encased in darkness. The dim shine of the moon through the narrow windows above us became our sole source of light, and the rustling of the comforter the only sound as he slipped into bed.
Killian tucked me against him. His hand passed over the curve of my waist, down to my hip and back, caressing lightly. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said after a moment.
“I am, too.” I waited for my eyes to adjust to our surroundings before I spoke again. “You told your mother we were living together.”
“ ’Cause we are.” He thought about it. “I guess I should’ve asked, but I suppose it just happened.”
I didn’t want to ask my next questions, afraid his response would be “Yes,” “Frequently,” and “They were hot.” But I asked anyway. “Did you ever live with anyone before?”
His tone grew serious. “No. That shit’s a sin.”
I laughed when he did. “So is premarital sex. But since you’re a good Catholic boy, you probably knew that.”
He pulled me up so I could see him, his grin extra wide and extra white in the dimness. “I am a good Catholic boy. The thing is, I also know when something’s right. You here with me, it’s all good, you know?”
I knew what he meant. “I love you,” I said without thinking.
Killian stopped smiling, his stare growing severe and his deep voice rumbling. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“Kill—”
He pushed up on his elbow, his voice sharp. “I’m serious. You don’t play around with that word.”
Resentment clouded his features, but I understood why. Every morning his father would tell his mother that he loved her. And late every night he’d return home and tell her the same, despite having spent his evening in another woman’s bed. His mother never reacted in front of their children. But Killian used to hear her crying in the confines of her bedroom.
I stroked his hair, refusing to take the words back or pretend like they didn’t matter. “I love you, Killian,” I said again. My fingertips stopped moving. “I’m not asking you to say it back. I’m only telling you, it’s how I feel.”
I inched against him when he said nothing, wanting to feel closer to him. After what seemed like forever, he lowered his body, allowing me to place my head against his shoulder. I heard every breath he took, sensed the warmth of his hand along the sweep of my spine, and felt the steady thump of his heart.
What I didn’t feel was the love I so needed back.
My eyes were closing when his deep voice spoke below a whisper. “I love you, too,” he said.
Chapter 17
I drove past the gym a few weeks later. It was Sunday and the back of my car was packed to the gills with groceries and barbecue supplies. Killian didn’t tell me he loved me after that night I fell asleep in his arms. At first I tried to convince myself that maybe I’d just imagined it. But in the end, I knew I’d heard it, even though he probably hadn’t wanted me to.
Although I’d never take my “I love you” back, I didn’t say it again after that night. It was hard not to speak the words now that I had unleashed them, but I kept them to myself anyway. They seemed to have hurt Killian more than helped us. Maybe he hadn’t been prepared to receive them. Or at least that was how I explained his reaction.
It beat the alternative: that he really didn’t love me back.
I slowed to stop at a light. Norman’s caregiver appeared with Norman in tow, pushing him through the intersection while on their daily stroll. I waved, but neither seemed to notice me. They were too busy passing the other pedestr
ians crossing. Unlike me, those weaving around Norman didn’t bother to wave, choosing to ignore both men.
I sighed. I knew that feeling all too well. I decided then to try to do something nice for them.
The light changed to green, allowing me to speed forward in the direction of Killian’s house. The morning after I’d spilled my TMI, our interactions were strained and the tension between us palpable. Over the course of the next few days, everything gradually returned to normal. In a way, it was good. In a way, I couldn’t help but wish for a little more.
It didn’t take long for me to get back home. I waved to Mrs. O’Hara as she passed with her little dog. Although it was now months since she’d asked me about enticing Killian to bed, I still blushed and hurried inside with my perishables.
I left the remainder of the groceries in my car, knowing they wouldn’t spoil. Killian didn’t like my car, he found it too small. But if he complained too much we could switch everything over to his truck before heading over to Angus’s barbecue.
I passed Finn, still asleep on our couch. He’d arrived on our doorstep sometime after three in the morning, wasted out of his mind and with his lip busted from a throw-down at a party. I’d put the groceries away, seasoned the ground beef and formed it into patties before Finn even stirred. When I heard the start of a pained moan, I pulled out the gallon of Gatorade I’d bought him and poured it into a glass filled with ice.
Finn rubbed his forehead, evidently experiencing one monster of a hangover but making no effort to sit up. I was worried about him. This wasn’t the first time he’d shown up drunk out of his mind. In fact, the incidences were becoming more frequent.
I brought the Gatorade over to him and stroked his curly ginger hair. “Hey. You okay?”
“Sofia…”
“Yes?”
“Kill…me…”
“How about I give you a drink instead?”
“No…no more booze. I swear to Christ…I’m never drinking again.”
He’d said that the last few times. I only wished I could believe him and that I knew why he was acting out this way. Killian always handled his arrivals, and often stayed up talking to him after insisting I go to bed. I had hoped Killian could reason with him and set him straight. So far, he hadn’t managed.