Going Deep (Imperfect Love Book 2)

by Nikki Ash

  “Do you ever feel broken and lonely, Killian?”

  “Every damn day.”

  Unable to voice my answer, I nod once, and he nods back. Then, taking my hand, he leads me into his bedroom. He opens up a drawer and pulls a couple items out, handing me a shirt and boxers. “So you’re more comfortable.” He shrugs. “My bathroom is through that door.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him. After changing out of my clothes and into his, I use the bathroom and wash my hands and face. This will be the first time since I was with Christian that I’m spending the night with a man. Even the men I’ve been with, I never spend the night. My rule is midnight. Many have offered more money for me to break that rule, but I’ve never once done it. It sounds stupid, but I never wanted to be that intimate with someone. It’s one thing to have sex with them, but it’s another to sleep and cuddle with them—to act like we’re something we’re not—something we’ll never be.

  When I exit the bathroom, Killian is dressed in a pair of New York Brewers sweats and a plain white T-shirt. I take a moment to look around his room. The walls are a soft beige, and the furniture is a dark chocolate brown. The four-poster bed is huge and placed directly in the middle of the wall.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asks. “Water? Tea?”

  “Water would be great.”

  I stay standing in place as he walks out of the room. I can’t believe of all places to be, I’m standing in the bedroom of Killian Blake. It wasn’t too long ago the guy hated my guts—and the feeling was mutual. I guess the saying is true: there’s a thin line between love and hate. Not that this is love…Never mind, ignore that last thought. I’ve clearly had too much to drink. There’s a thick line—a very thick line—and we’re nowhere near crossing it.

  “Giselle,” Killian calls out and I follow after him. I find him in the kitchen grabbing two waters out of the fridge. He hands me one and I take a long sip. After taking a drink of his own water, he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting down on the sofa.

  I study him for a long beat, confused as to how I got here. How we got here. And not just in his home, but the two of us, comfortable enough with each other that I’m wearing his boxers. “I thought you hated me,” I blurt out. “Why am I here?”

  “Come and sit with me. Let’s talk.” He pats the cushion, and reluctantly, I join him.

  “Why do you work as an escort?” he asks again, getting straight to the point. We both know he already knows why, but he wants to hear it from me.

  “When my dad left my mom, he stopped paying the bills. I took over, but as an intern I didn’t make enough. I applied for assistance for my sister for school, but on every application they included my father’s income. He didn’t make a lot, but he made too much for her to get financial aid. I couldn’t let Adrianna take out loans. She would graduate and be thousands of dollars in debt like me. One night while I was out with Christian, I overheard his friends talking about the escort service they use. After I caught him cheating on me, in a desperate act to make some quick money to pay for my sister’s semester of classes, I looked it up. I interviewed with Bianca and was hired.”

  My eyes close in embarrassment. Escorting has become a part of my life, but up until now, I’ve never discussed it with anyone. Saying what I do out loud makes it seem more real.

  “My dad didn’t just leave,” I add. “He also quit his job.

  “So, doesn’t that mean you can get her financial aid?” Killian asks.

  “It was already too late to apply. There’s a deadline. And on top of that, because he’s no longer employed, my mom’s insurance was canceled. The medications she’s on cost thousands a month. I’m trying to get her insured, but nobody wants to write a policy for a woman who has the preexisting conditions my mom has. And honestly, we don’t even know the extent of her condition. She’s been diagnosed a million times, but nobody seems to get it right. I’ve watched her struggle my entire life, and I have no idea how to help her. I’m hoping the doctors at Serenity—the mental health facility she’s at—will be able to figure out something the others couldn’t.”

  Killian stares at me for a few seconds before he says, “I’m so sorry, Giselle.”

  “I don’t want your pity,” I snap before I can stop myself.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sorry for what you’re going through…I mean, I am, but that’s not why I’m apologizing. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I assumed you were leeching off Olivia. And once I found out you were an escort, I assumed the worst. That you were loaded and choosing to let her pay your way.” Killian takes my hand in his. “Please forgive me.”

  My head and heart are spinning. I’ve spent the last several months refusing to have any emotions, and now this man is pulling them out of me. I feel like I’ve been exposed and laid bare, meanwhile he hasn’t given me anything.

  “I’ll forgive you on two conditions.”

  He nods for me to continue.

  “One, you apologize to Celeste. You’ve been mean to her and she doesn’t deserve it.”

  Killian nods. “Okay, and two?”

  “The night of my birthday, you admitted you were broken and lonely…” When Killian doesn’t deny it, I continue, “Then, when you asked me to stay with you tonight, you said ‘Be broken and lonely with me.’ Tell me your story.”

  Killian flinches but tries to quickly play it off with a small, nervous smile. “What you said about me paying escorts to have sex with me, you were wrong. I do pay them to go to events with me, but I don’t have sex with them.” He pauses for a moment, then surprises the hell out of me when he says, “I don’t have sex at all.”

  I try to contain my shocked expression but it must seep through my features because Killian laughs softly. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, yeah, it kind of was,” I admit.

  “I haven’t had sex in over ten years.”

  I have so many questions, but I remain silent and allow him to tell me his truth.

  “I was popular in high school. Your typical varsity football player.” Killian laughs but it’s not a happy laugh. “I was even crowned homecoming king my senior year.”

  A giggle escapes me when I picture Killian wearing a crown.

  “I definitely had no trouble getting laid. I slept around like most guys my age do. I wasn’t a complete manwhore, but I had my fair share of women. When I started at the University of North Carolina, I continued as I had in high school, only I became even more popular. Girls would throw themselves at me, wanting to date a college athlete. Nick was the starting QB, and when we went out together, girls would flock to us.

  “My sophomore year I met this girl, Melanie. She was in a sorority and a cheerleader. We hit it off. I took her out on a few dates and one of them led to us having sex. I really enjoyed her company, but I was young and immature. She wanted more…”

  “To be your girlfriend,” I say, and Killian nods.

  “Playing college ball took up a lot of my time,” he explains. “Between going to classes full-time and practice. Add in the away games. It was just too much. I wasn’t in a place to commit to one person. She said she understood, and we continued to sleep together.” His eyes drop and my stomach tightens. Something in his voice tells me he’s getting to the climax of the story.

  “A few months later Melanie got pregnant.” He takes a shaky breath. I wait for him to continue, but instead he stands, and grabbing his water bottle, chucks it across the room. It hits a picture and knocks it to the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He storms out of the living room and into his bedroom. I wait a few minutes, unsure if I should go after him. Whatever happened can’t be good. I consider leaving, but make the decision to stay. He started this. He asked me to be broken and lonely with him. I told him my truths and now it’s time for him to tell me his. Judging by the way he’s acting, if I had to guess, I would say he’s never told anyone this bef
ore.

  Standing, I head into the bedroom and find him coming out of the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows landing on his knees, and his face falling into his hands.

  “I have a spare room,” he tells me. “I can take you to see your mom in the morning, so you don’t have to ride the subway.”

  “Be broken and lonely with me,” I say, repeating his words.

  Killian looks up at me, and it’s apparent from his bloodshot eyes that he was crying in the bathroom.

  “Please,” I add.

  He stares at me for a long time, searching for what, I’m not sure, and then he nods once. I take that as my cue to sit next to him on the bed.

  “Fuck, this is so hard.” He closes his eyes and I take his hand in mine. I rub circles into his flesh with my thumb until he relaxes enough to reopen his eyes.

  “When she found out she was pregnant, she came to me.” His eyes close once more and a single tear falls. I watch as it makes its way down his cheek and lands on the front of his shirt.

  “Fuck, Giselle.” His voice cracks on my name. “She was scared and crying. She needed me to tell her everything would be okay.”

  He swallows loudly and then continues, “I had a game coming up, and finals, and I was exhausted. I freaked out. I told her I couldn’t deal with it. She was on the pill. It shouldn’t have happened. Looking back, I know shit happens and how she got pregnant shouldn’t have mattered. Even if she was trying to trap me, it was my baby in her.” He releases my hand and uses his to scrub his face.

  I stay quiet, waiting to hear what happens next. Being as I’ve never heard of him having a kid, I have a sinking feeling his story doesn’t have a happy ending.

  “I left for my game without talking to her. I assumed she would be there when I got back. Only when I returned, she was gone.”

  I hear myself gasp.

  “She dropped out of school and went to live with her aunt in Tennessee…after she had an abortion.” Tears of regret and devastation prick Killian’s eyes, and before I can think about what I’m doing, I climb onto his lap, my legs straddling his muscular thighs, and give him a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight. His shoulders shake up and down as he cries for the baby that was never born, the baby he blames himself for losing. With his head buried in my chest, neither of us say a word. There’s nothing I can say that will make this go away. His baby is gone and he blames himself. He’s spent the last ten years punishing himself over it.

  When his body stops shaking, he looks up at me. His beautiful hazel eyes fall to my mouth and then he kisses me. Light, feather touches. His lips are strong yet gentle. The kiss is soft and has me melting around him like a pile of goo. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this. Like I’m something more than a whore who is getting paid to pleasure a man.

  When he pulls back, he sees the tears brimming my lids. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question. I’m not sure if it’s that I need him to know it’s not him but me, or if maybe I feel like after he’s told me his deepest, darkest secret, I want him to know one of mine, but without a second thought, I tell him another one of my truths.

  “It’s been over seven years since I’ve been kissed like that,” I admit. “I was eighteen years old. Christian kissed me goodbye as I boarded the plane to Paris.”

  “I thought you two got back together when you came back to the states with Olivia?” he questions.

  “We did, but he had changed. The stardom had gotten to him. He was high or drunk all the time. We hooked up a couple times, but it wasn’t good. Then I caught him cheating on me. Shortly after, I took the job at A Touch of Class.”

  “None of the guys you were with kissed you?” I can tell from the sound of his voice, he isn’t judging me but simply trying to understand. I go to climb off him, but his hands grip my hips and he holds me in place.

  “My job is to make it about them. Sometimes we kiss, but it isn’t pure or sweet. It’s filled with an agenda, a gateway to sex.” Then I tell him something I haven’t told anyone. “I’ve had sex with dozens of guys these last few months but I’ve never once orgasmed.”

  “You’ve never orgasmed?” he asks incredulously.

  “Of course I have, but not by the men I’ve been with. It was always about them. I faked it every time just to quickly end it.” I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment, but Killian isn’t having it because he moves them away. Then, holding onto me, he drags us up the bed. He lays me down next to him and pulls me into his side. I lay my head down on his chest and wrap my arm around his front. He runs his fingers through my hair a few times before they move down to my back. My eyes close as I get lost in the feeling of his touch. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, craved this. To be held and comforted.

  And before I can second guess myself, I whisper one last truth. “It’s not really the orgasms that are important,” I admit. “It’s the connection. I just want to feel connected to someone. I’m tired of feeling so alone.”

  Fourteen

  Killian

  Last night with Giselle didn’t exactly go as planned—or maybe it did. I’m not sure what was going through my head when I brought her back to my place. Maybe in the back of my mind I thought I would call her out on her shit and she would open up to me about her money troubles. I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen from there, but never did I imagine that with her legs wrapped around my waist, while hugging me, I would confide in her my deepest secret. I never could’ve predicted she would hug and comfort me while I lost my shit and released all of the built-up guilt I’ve been holding onto for the last decade.

  And then, when Giselle in return admitted she hasn’t had been pleasured by a man in years, my first thought was to pull my boxers down her creamy thighs and eat her cunt until she’s screaming my name while she orgasms all over my tongue. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I knew it wasn’t the right time. We were both too raw and emotional. When I pleasure her, I want it to be when she’s of her right mind and not feeling exposed and vulnerable.

  “I just want to feel connected to someone. I’m tired of feeling so alone.”

  While Giselle and I are different in many ways, we’re actually similar in other ways. I understand exactly where Giselle is coming from. While I’ve spent years keeping women at arm’s length, I have longed to have a deeper connection with someone. I was so stuck in my way of not having casual sex until I was in a serious relationship, I never even unlocked the door to let a woman try to step through. I was afraid of their ill intentions, their hidden motives. Opening up to Giselle last night felt completely foreign, but at the same time it felt like it connected us.

  Gently moving her body off mine, I get out of bed and go to the kitchen to start the coffee. While it’s brewing, I hear the sound of feet padding across my wood floor. Giselle appears in the doorway, still wearing my shirt and boxers. Her hair is messy from sleep, her face free of all makeup, and she looks gorgeous as hell. She grants me a shy, nervous smile. I know she wasn’t drunk last night, but my guess is she’s wondering if I regret everything we talked about. Needing her to know I don’t regret anything, I grin back. Her smile widens and then she throws her head back with a laugh, and fuck if it isn’t the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

  “What?” I question.

  “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad,” she says through a fit of giggles, and the melodic sound has me grinning hard.

  “An Alice in Wonderland quote?” I ask, even though I already know it is. After she told me to read the book, I googled ‘Alice in Wonderland quotes,’ and came across several. Who knew the author of children’s books could be so poetic?

  “Yeah.” She nods with a smile.

  I pull a mug down from the cabinet and hand it to her. She goes to take it, but I don’t let go. Instead, I use her grip on it to pull her closer to me. Her body presses against mine, and I tilt my chin down to kiss her. Only she turns her head to the s
ide at the last second and my lips land on her cheek. Without letting go of her, I whisper, “I’m afraid we are mad. But I’ll tell you a secret. All of the best people are.” I have no idea if the quote is from the book or the movie. It’s one of the ones I found when I googled, but I’m sure she’ll tell me.

  Giselle backs up, and shaking her head with a large grin splayed upon her face, says, “That’s from the movie, and I’m pretty sure, you didn’t even say it right. Read. The. Book.” Then, plucking the mug out of my hand, she goes about making her coffee.

  I study her as she flits around my kitchen like she belongs here. She grabs the milk and sugar from the fridge and adds them both to her coffee. Then she turns around and leans against the counter. Her foot pops up against the cabinet, exposing her sexy thigh. She lifts the hot coffee to her lips and blows on it. Her eyes come up slowly, and she peers up at me through her thick lashes.

  “Thank you for last night,” she says softly. “It felt really good to be able to talk to someone about everything. Thank you for not judging me.”

  I cut across the kitchen and encroach on her space. Then, taking the mug out of her hands, I set it on the counter. She gives me a confused look, until my hands come down on either side of her, caging her in. Our faces only inches apart from each other. Her look of confusion turns to nervousness.

  “Why did you stop me from kissing you?” I murmur.

  Giselle’s lids flutter closed. She takes a deep breath, and when she reopens her eyes it’s as if she’s found her confidence. Her face takes on a look of determination. “Kill…you’re a pro ball player who uses escorts so you don’t have to have sex. I’m an escort who fucks guys for money… and I don’t date athletes. Last night was exactly what I needed. Someone to talk to. And I’d like to think it was what you needed as well. Someone to share what you went through all those years ago. If you want to be friends, I can definitely use one. But that’s all I can be. Your friend.”