by Nashoda Rose
I snorted. “I found him in bed with one of his students.”
Ali’s brows lowered as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew the rumors had it wrong the moment I met you.” Yeah, David turned the tables, making me look bad and he the victim. “Then I guess you won’t be sad to hear his studio has closed and he’s gone bankrupt.”
“Wow, really?” At one time I think David loved me. Or at least he believed he did. He’d been affectionate and kind, and we’d had a good relationship. At least that was what I’d thought. But even with him cheating on me, I still didn’t wish ill on him. He was passionate about dance, and I knew the studio was important to him.
“Yeah, my friend e-mailed me and said he’s moving back to Vancouver.” David grew up in Vancouver. Ali smiled. “Gotta love karma. See you tomorrow. Lock up?”
“Yeah. You mind getting the lights?”
Ali flicked the switch and I was left in darkness. I heard the door quietly shut behind her and then the front door beeped as it opened and closed.
I watched the cars pass by the window as their headlights offered a kaleidoscope of light across the studio.
My gaze stopped on the shadow of a man leaning against the building across the street. It was impossible to see his face as he wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. But as I stared at him, tingles of awareness tap-danced across my body, and my heart pounded.
Killian?
He was here?
Watching me.
I didn’t move. Neither did he. And I didn’t know if he knew I saw him or not. But it was when he stopped staring in my direction, and he bowed his head that my heart broke.
Killian.
I closed my eyes, holding back the tears as the ache swelled. The pain. The hurt for him.
When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
For six nights he watched me from across the street, and I danced knowing he watched me. It was freeing and painful at the same time. I put everything I felt into the movements, hoping that maybe he’d understand the story I danced. That maybe he’d see my love for him.
Each night when the song ended, I turned off the lights, sat on the floor and held my breath.
Hoping he’d smile.
Hoping he’d cross the street.
Hoping he’d not walk away.
But he always did.
I didn’t know how to reach him without pushing him farther away, but I wasn’t giving up on us. He loved me. That didn’t just go away. It bore into your soul and lived there.
And maybe I’d never have kids with Killian, but I’d have him and the family that came with him. A family who had welcomed me into their arms without hesitation.
I left the studio early tonight, unable to face another night with him watching me then leaving. Because that was what it was. Him leaving me again and again. As I walked up to my apartment building, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I felt his eyes on me.
He was here.
I didn’t look though. I opened the door and jogged up the three flights of stairs then went into my apartment, straight into my kitchen and picked up the orchid from the windowsill.
It had to stop, and this was the only way I could think of to do it. To make him react. To do something. Either walk away for good or come back to me.
This was our beginning.
When I’d lost everything and was scared and alone, Killian had given me a piece of him to take with me.
And he knew how important the orchid was to me.
“What are you doing with that?” Trevor asked as he propped up against his doorframe, arms crossed.
“Pushing him,” I said.
He chuckled. “About time, cupcake. Let me know if you need any help.”
I carried the orchid downstairs and out the door, then walked the length of the building to the garbage bin. I lifted the lid and tossed the orchid inside.
The lid slammed shut and the sound echoed through the parking lot.
Eleven years I’d held onto the orchid, and somehow even unconsciously, it was holding onto Killian, too.
Walking away was hard. I wanted to go back and grab the orchid. Save it. Save us.
I looked straight ahead, uncertain if he’d seen me or not, but knowing either way, I had to do it.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
My body sagged at the sound of his voice behind me. It was as if he just handed me a piece of my heart back. His words didn’t matter because I knew he’d be angry. I wanted him to get angry.
I slowly turned, and even though he had dark circles under his eyes and his lips were pursed, and his brows were dangerously low, he was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
God, I missed him. The urge to throw my arms around him was overwhelming, and I had to look away for a second to collect myself.
“Savvy, what the hell?” He stayed six feet away as if he didn’t trust himself to come any closer.
“I don’t want it anymore,” I said, lifting my chin and trying to appear as if him being here didn’t affect me.
“Bullshit,” he said.
I shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s gone, and I’m moving on.” But I wasn’t. He was my home. Wherever that may be, and however long it took to get there, this man was my home. He was just fighting it. But that ended now. “And stop watching me, damn it.”
His jaw clenched and his back stiffened. “I can’t. I fuckin’ can’t.”
Oh, God. I wanted to wrap him up in my arms and take away all the pain he’d suffered. As a kid unwanted by his father. As a teenager lost to the anger that consumed him. As a man who controlled his emotions and buried his pain.
“Well, you know what, I can’t stop hurting. I can’t stop missing you. I can’t stop feeling like I can’t breathe. And I can’t stop loving you. But I’ve accepted it. I’ve accepted that my love for you will never die and I’ll have to live with that. But I sure as hell don’t need you stalking me and reminding me of it.” I turned, swiped my fob over the pad and the front door unlocked.
“Savvy.”
I threw open the door.
“Savvy,” he growled.
I stepped inside, but I didn’t make it far before his hand grabbed my arm and he yanked me aside, pressing me into the glass. “Damn it, Savvy. You can’t throw the orchid away.”
He may have said orchid, but I knew he was saying us.
My heart pounded, and my belly fluttered as he held my wrists on either side of my head against the glass. His eyes blazed, but the green was alive and burning. The ice chips had melted.
“Kiss me,” I said. “Kiss me goodbye. Then do what you’re good at and walk away and hide behind your wall.”
His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened. It hurt, but I wanted the pain. I wanted him to hurt.
“Kiss me,” I repeated. For a split second I thought he was going to let me go as he loosened his grip, but then he swore beneath his breath before his mouth slammed against mine.
It was like jumping off a waterfall and having no idea when I was going to hit the pool beneath. Not caring. I just wanted this feeling to last forever.
His kiss was starved.
Determined. Bruising. Uncontrolled. And within all of that was love. It was him loving me without borders.
“Savvy,” he murmured against my lips. He released my wrists, and I wrapped my arms around him. He pulled back and cupped my chin, his eyes smoldering with desire, but there was a hesitancy within the depths. “I can’t give you everything you want.”
“You already have, Killian. I have a home in you. A family in you. The gift of loving you.”
“But kids….”
I weaved my fingers into his hair. “We’ll get a dog.”
There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, and I sagged into him. He would be okay. All the emotions he’d buried for so long were raw and still hurting him, but he’d be okay. We’d be okay.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ripped, crumpled piece of paper that looked l
ike it had been soaked in water. He smoothed it out on the glass window and I saw my writing. My words. It was the note I’d written to him when I’d left that day in the rain. I remember thinking he’d never see it.
“Killian,” I whispered. Two tears trailed down my cheeks and he wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. Killian had found my note. He’d kept it like I’d kept the orchid.
“I may have kept myself from you, but you were always with me, Savvy. And fuck, I love you.” His kissed me again before he picked me up in his arms and I hooked my legs around his waist. But he didn’t carry me upstairs; he carried me to his car then walked away.
“Where are you going?” I called.
“To get the fuckin’ orchid then I’m taking you home.”
One year and five months later
I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me to see Killian awake and leaning up against the sleek black headboard, one leg bent and a book balanced against his thigh.
The gray sheet bunched low on his hips, and my eyes flicked to the sparse trail of hairs disappearing beneath the material.
I’d woken up with him every morning for the last year and a half and there wasn’t a single day he didn’t look totally fuckable. But what did me in this morning were the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose that totally clashed with his tattoos and piercings, but made him look sexy as hell. And he damn well knew I thought it was sexy as hell.
Killian flipped his book closed, and I jerked at the abrupt sound. “You didn’t wake me.”
“If I did, we’d be late. It’s almost ten.”
He tossed his book aside, and it landed with a thump on the wooden platform surrounding the mattress. We’d picked out the new bed together several months ago along with sheets and a few throw pillows. The one side of the bed had a row of four large glass squares that lit up with soft green lights. The headboard was solid and black, and had an iron bar running the length of it that curved down both sides.
The iron bar had been the custom part of the bed that Killian had told me in great detail how he was going to use it when he tied me up.
“You could have woken me with your wet pussy on my face or my cock in your mouth,” he drawled.
He removed his glasses then leaned over and placed them on the nightstand. The sheet slipped farther and my sex pulsed. Would I ever get enough of this man?
Killian’s pull ate the space between us and even ten feet away it felt as if I were right next to him.
Last night, he’d stripped off his clothes, crawled into bed then wrapped me up in his arms and fell asleep. He and the guys had been working long nights on the album to get it finished this month. I’d gone to the recording studio with him a number of times, and watching him on the drums was magical.
I walked to the cupboard, my feet sinking into the new white shag carpet that he’d shown up with last month. It was a slow process, and I let him be the one to decorate the warehouse, but he was. There were now throw rugs scattered throughout, and he’d put in an enormous mirrored wall in the open space for me to dance, along with a stereo system that we could play as loud as we wanted since there were no neighbors.
“Drop the towel and come here, Savvy.” His voice was quiet and steady, almost soft.
My body was the complete opposite as it thrummed with desire, excitement and anticipation of his touch. I paused, my hand on the door handle.
I turned around and faced him. I shouldn’t have because there was no way I was denying him anything. Inhaling a quivering breath, I approached the bed.
“Straddle me,” he said.
I knelt on the mattress, threw my leg over his waist, then slowly lowered so his hard cock settled against my wet folds. I shifted forward rubbing him against me, and he groaned.
His eyes met mine. “Fuck, I love you,” he said as his hands spanned my waist. “Never a day will go by that I won’t love you. And never will there be a hint of uncertainty that you belong anywhere else but right here.”
There wasn’t a peppering of goose bumps across my skin; it was a horde of them, and they didn’t pepper; they assaulted. “And I don’t ever want to be anywhere else.”
He cupped my cheeks then tugged me in for a kiss, but I placed my palms on his chest, holding him off.
“We need to be fast. You have to shower before we go.”
He frowned. “We’re not being fast.”
“If we’re late again, we’ll never hear the end of it from Crisis.”
“Fuck him,” Killian growled as he dragged me closer.
“I think I’d rather fuck you.”
He slapped my ass—hard. I squealed to get away, but he rolled, careful not to hurt me as he shifted so he was on top of me, his hands pinning me down. “You think?”
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, he’s pretty charming and so cute with little Melody.”
Killian huffed. I wiggled underneath him
“And you’re good with Drum.”
He slapped my ass again. “Drum is a fuckin’ dog.”
I smiled. “But he’s your dog.”
“Ours.”
“No, Drum is yours, Killian. He doesn’t leave your side and looks up at you like you’re God. You take him everywhere you go and he sits on your lap when we’re on the couch.”
“Savvy, I can’t leave him here by himself while you’re at work, and I have a better lap. He’s smart.”
I secretly smiled because despite how he played it, the little black Pomeranian with tan over his eyes was Killian’s dog even if he’d adopted him for me. There’d even been a picture of him carrying Drum under his arm that went viral. He thought it was ridiculous. I thought it was the sexiest shot I’d ever seen of him.
I wanted to have it blown up and framed on our wall, but Killian wasn’t quite there yet with having pictures displayed. And maybe he wouldn’t ever be. But I didn’t need pictures. I had him.
As if knowing we were talking about him, Drum jumped up and down beside the bed. Killian reached over the side of the bed and picked him up and set him on the mattress. Drum danced around in circles then dug in the sheets and plopped down in a tiny ball closing his eyes.
I laughed, rolling my eyes.
Despite what he thought, Killian had good bits in abundance. He may not trust easily, or let others see who he really was, but those he let in, he would give his life for.
He shifted his hips so his cock rubbed up against my clit. I moaned and arched my back. “What would you prefer? I fuck you slow in your ass or hard in your pussy?”
“You’re giving me a choice?”
“No, baby. I’m doing both. I just want to know your answer.”
I dragged my teeth over my lower lip, and his eyes smoldered. “I’ll let you know.”
He growled before his mouth crashed down on mine and then he did exactly as he said.
We were a half hour late arriving at Sophia and John’s for brunch, and everyone was already sitting on the patio eating, including Matt and Mars. We apologized, and Sophia smiled, shrugging it off and saying it was no big deal while Crisis tried to get a rise out of Killian by asking why we were so late. Of course, Killian didn’t react to Crisis’s teasing while my cheeks burned.
Now, we were playing croquet and Hendricks was winning. The only rules we had were to get your ball through all the hoops first and hit the final peg.
Tear and Drum trotted out onto the grass while Crisis and Haven’s eighteen-month-old daughter, Melody, followed holding with both hands the slobbery red ball that Tear just had in his mouth.
“Angel, don’t put your fingers in your mouth after holding that,” Haven called then said to me, “She is so going to put her fingers in her mouth.”
I smiled. Melody was adorable and having just learned how to walk, she went wherever her little chubby legs could take her.
“Logan. Really?” Emily groaned. Logan’s ball had hit hers and knocked it into the garden.
He smirked. “Have you ever kn
own me to let you win, Mouse?”
She walked over to him, her hand protectively on her bulging stomach. Then she stood on her tiptoes and whispered something to him. He placed his hand on her stomach and after a second, his eyes lit up.
Emily and Logan had married in February. A winter wedding with Clyde and Dale pulling a beautifully decorated blue-and-white sleigh that had carried Emily to the front doors of the church. Kat had been her maid of honor, with Haven and Georgie as her bridesmaids. Georgie had put blue streaks in her hair to match the blue-and-white theme.
Matt had walked Emily down the aisle as she didn’t have a father, and Matt was like a brother to her.
Logan had looked absolutely stunning in his tailored suit and blue tie and gold cuff links, but it was Killian who had stolen my breath away as he stood beside Logan as best man.
His suit had been perfectly tailored to his tall, lean stature with the same pin-striped, blue-and-white tie as Ream, Crisis, and Deck, who had stood as groomsmen. He’d been mouth-wateringly sexy and when he’d caught me staring at him, he’d winked and grinned.
I’d melted and my sex had pulsed, and then I’d had to sit there beside Crisis and Ream’s mom with wet panties while I’d watched Killian at the altar.
Ream, Matt, and Crisis took their shots and then Kat, who purposely went after Ream’s ball and smacked it off course.
Ream hooked her around the waist, lifted her off her feet and kissed her. “Oh, baby, you’re forgetting how good I am at mini-golf. This croquet shit is easy, but it’s cute you’re trying to beat me.”
Kat smiled, running her finger along the scruff on his chin. “Do you know what it would be like living with you for the next week if I beat you? I’m trying to lose. I’m just making your game more challenging.” Crisis laughed while Ream grunted. And Sophia and John looked at one another smiling.
Killian stood with his arms looped around me from behind, while I rested my head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head. “You’re up, orchid.”
I still found it difficult to believe he was mine. That after all these years, the sixteen-year-old kid who’d scared me, saved me, and was my first kiss, was now the man who loved me.