The foot that followed it, however, wasn’t quiet or controlled. It connected with the would-be rapist right on his cheek, spinning him around, throwing him backward, away from Cece. The Chest, who had twisted her hair in his fist again, was dragged backward, yanking her with him. This time, with her feet free, she was able to kick back, over her head and nail him in the nose with her stiletto-clad foot.
Large, careful arms slid around her waist and pulled her to the back of the aisle. She struggled and twisted, and was ready to scream again until she heard another familiar voice.
“Relax, Dusty. It’s just me.”
Dunham.
She looked up at him and collapsed into him, her whole body just turning to jelly.
He smiled. “Nice move with the heels.”
“Jesus, he almost raped me.”
Dunham pointed to where the would-be rapist was just trying to lift his head off the floor. “He’s not going anywhere. Why don’t you—”
“Robbe!” Thompson came skidding around the corner, pulling up short and looking like he was about the attack Dunham.
Cece held up a hand. “No, Doc. This is Dunham. He’s a private detective. He works with the Club and Detective Garabaldi.”
Dunham held on to her to make sure she had her feet beneath her. “Come on, Cece. Straighten your clothes out.”
Paul stood to his full height from where he had lain out and relayed an extra punch or five into the man who had grabbed her initially. Thompson started.
“Doctor Wainwright.”
“Thompson.”
In that moment, Cece saw where Paul’s dark reputation came from. He was livid, his countenance was calculating, and he exuded pure anger. For all the times Cece had been around him, she had never seen this side of him—and at the worst possible time, she felt a touch of desire for him.
“What…what are you doing here?” Cece managed to choke the words out after she had reassembled her outfit.
He looked down at her, and his face lightened a bit. “The rumor that someone had put out cash to have you raped.”
“They what?” Thompson was shocked.
Cece was speechless and just looked back and forth between the three men standing there.
“The rumor mill runs day and night,” Dunham said. “That came through about an hour ago from a very reliable source. We were trying to reach anyone who could get here, and it seemed like Paul and I were the only ones. Killian was in surgery. And the front desk line was tied up. The campus security wasn’t interested.” He cocked his head. “We did our best. Once that cash was tagged by someone, we had only minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Paul’s face softened as he stepped up to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Cece. We tried to get someone here faster.”
She leaned on his chest and heard his heart pounding. He really did care about her, and in that second, she lost her composure.
Again.
Chapter Nine
Killian pushed through the door and shook his head at the sight inside. Cece had a rag on her face, and it was soaked through with blood. There was a blood smear on Paul’s shirt and on Dunham’s sleeve.
Garabaldi was standing with the library director.
“Doctor McInnis, come in, please.” Thompson motioned him into the office. “I’m glad you could make it. Surgery was successful?”
“Very. The patient came through with flying colors.” He looked at Cece apologetically. “It was a thoracic endovascular aortic repair. And it was an emergency because the bulge was thin enough to rupture if they watched Family Feud. That’s why I couldn’t get here faster.”
“I think Cece understands why you weren’t here,” Paul said and shot daggers at Killian’s long-winded response. Killian ignored him for the most part. He wanted Cece to understand he hadn’t even known there was trouble until well after Garabaldi had escorted the would-be rapists away.
“Well, let me take a look at my patient here.” Killian placed the old school doctor’s bag on the desk. He heard Dunham snort behind him, and Thompson also let out a chuckle. “They are very, very helpful, and screw you both.” He scolded them without turning around.
Gingerly, Cece peeled the rag from her face, and the first look at the massive cut made him suck his teeth.
“Oh God, it’s that bad?” Her voice trembled.
“I won’t know until I clean it well.” As he popped open the doctor’s bag, he motioned Paul over. “We’re going to irrigate with sterile water, and I’ll assess once we see what we have.” He turned and smirked at the man. “You okay with working on the living?”
“I find they move too much for me.”
“The two of you!” Dunham snapped. “Gallows humor!”
Killian bit his lips to keep from laughing anymore, but seeing the little sparkle in Cece’s eye was worth it. He pulled out the bottle of sterilized water and cracked it open. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Directing Paul to hold the small basin under her chin and cheek, Killian started cleaning the ragged-edged wound. He wiped down the area, and as he started dropping the used gauze in the bin, Thompson made a gagging noise.
“Couldn’t go to the hospital?”
“Garabaldi will be back. If Killian can do this here, I’m fine with it.” Paul tossed a look over his shoulder. “You should come to the morgue. The deceased are interesting. I could tell you stories…”
Thompson gagged. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Killian caught Cece’s eye again, and the smirk was there. He could not wait until this was over, and he could make her smile all the time.
The cut cleaned up, and Killian examined the mess there. It was back toward her hairline, but it was nasty. “Well, it’s okay near the jawline, and we can do butterfly closures there, but I’m afraid you need stitches by your hairline. I can also do glue, but I didn’t bring that.”
“Stitches are fine,” Cece said. “Battle scars.”
He chuckled, and Paul had started handing him the suture equipment—with the darkest thread. “Lesson one with your living patients, Doctor. Match thread to skin if possible. Superficial cuts that just need help healing don’t call for black twine.”
“My patients don’t generally have an opinion, Doctor.” Paul handed him spool of beige thread.
Dunham grunted. “Thompson, you got coffee in this place? These two are going to be going at it until Cece is stitched. It’s exhausting.”
“I’m probably heading for a vomit anyway.” Thompson nodded at the door, and they headed out.
“Care to assist, Doctor?”Killian asked Paul.
“I have a very utilitarian stitch. Just usually holding it all in.”
“That’s why you’re assisting and not running the needle.” Killian nodded at the bag. “Needle, iodine, and topical are all in there.” Examining the wound, he spoke to Cece again. “I don’t have any good anesthetic. If you want to wait, I can—”
“I don’t need it.”
He stared at her. “Are you sure? This is going to hurt and I have to—”
“I don’t need it.” Her voice was quiet, composed. She turned and looked him straight in the eye.
Holy shit, she likes a little pain. Killian had been fully into his doctor persona and hadn’t realized that not everyone turned on and off the Dom like he did.
He was immediately hard and shuffled his feet a moment to accommodate himself. “You would tell me that now.” His whisper didn’t travel past her ear, and he followed it up with a wicked look.
She pretended to be stoic, but he could see the admission tore her up. She wasn’t used to people knowing she was this kinky. She tried not to grimace and sat still. But all of Killian’s training allowed him to see she was turned on by a touch of pain.
He was turned on by being able to deliver it to her.
“Iodine,” Paul said, shoving it into his hands. “The sexual tension just dialed up to twelve. Sew her up before you suck me into your hurr
icane of wet, perverse lust. Gah. Gross.”
Cece cracked a smile and giggled, and Killian found that infectious. He dabbed the iodine on the wound to disinfect it and took the now threaded needle.
Cece’s jaw tensed as he started the stitch, and she hissed when he pulled to make sure the skin closed. But she stayed perfectly still, not reacting to the motion of the needle and pain he was sure the sharp tool was inflicting.
“How many do you think?”
“Ten,” Killian answered.
“Oh.”
Killian tossed a glance at him. “What were you thinking?”
“Three would hold her brains in.”
Cece laughed. “My brains are not in danger of falling out, Doctor Wainwright.”
“There’s a reason I’m a medical examiner and not a surgeon.”
Killian watched his hands as he made ten tiny perfect stitches on the side of Cece’s face. The thread was nearly invisible and he was very precise and neat. He tied off each and trimmed the extra away. If she brushed her hair just the right way, no one would ever see the wound.
Taking the iodine from Paul again, he brushed it over the now-closed wound. There would be a stain on her skin for a few days, but it would heal quickly. He coated the rest of the cut as well and capped the bottle.
There was no denying the sexual heat rolling off of Cece. He could see her fighting it, controlling it as best as she could, but Killian could see her pulse accelerated, the measured breathing. Even her nipples had pearled against the fabric of her bra.
“You got this, Kay?” Paul asked from his new position by the door. “I’m not good with these living things. I’ll go find that coffee.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’m good.”
Killian carefully applied the last of the three strips to hold the bottom of the cut together. He was falling apart being so close to her and finding out one of her kinks, but he had to stay in doctor mode for just a few moments more.
“They all stay on for three days initially, and then we change them, make sure everything is healing well. It’s a nasty cut, Cece, and there probably will be a scar.”
She didn’t answer him. She was taking slow, measured breaths and managed a nod. Killian wrapped a hand around her chin and turned her to face him. He put the tiniest bit of pressure in a spot he knew would cause a whisper of pain. Cece’s eyes flared as he stared at her.
“You like that.”
“Yes,” she hissed quietly. “Just a little touch of pain. It…does things to me.”
“Damn.”
She cocked her head in his grip. “Disgusted? Freaked out?”
He grabbed her hand and placed it on his throbbing, hard cock. “Does that answer your question?” He leaned down and took her mouth in a bruising kiss, with just a hint of pressure again to cause the cut to twinge. She gasped into his mouth and pulled back just a touch.
He was suddenly afraid he’d pushed too hard.
* * *
Killian was turned on by her pain reaction. The little tremble he caused by pressing, almost softly, in the right place went right to her sex.
She pulled back after her gasp and stared into his eyes. He wanted her. “You’re serious? You don’t find me weird? Too kinky and bizarre?”
“Hell fuck no,” he answered. “Shit, I’m ordering a medical grade Wartenburg wheel when I get to a computer. I want to see every part of you shiver and shake in pleasure.” He leaned into her and whispered, “The idea of being able to turn you on, no matter what way, gets me instantly hard.” He kissed her again, with that little pressure that sent the pain-pleasure running through her, making her pussy quiver with want.
She pulled back and raked her eyes over the contours of his face, memorizing them, committing him to memory. Cece moved her hand to the waistband of his scrubs and yanked them down, palming his dick. “Fuck me, please? I need you so much right now.”
He grunted, rolling his eyes in pleasure. He stepped into her, standing between her legs. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her forward and her skirt slipped up. She worked it the rest of way up to her waist and Killian grabbed her panties, yanked them down and off her legs. He picked her up off the desk and spun around, pressing her against the door. Cece held back a squeal of surprise. The pain from the motion sent another wave of pleasure through her, and she was just so ready for him.
He didn’t wait but a moment more, moving her down and thrusting up, sliding himself inside her wet and willing pussy. She couldn’t quiet the grunt, but knew she would have to stay silent if he was going to fuck her against the door of her office. She bit carefully on his shoulder as he rammed his cock into her, the yelps of pleasure muffled only by his skin.
Moving her hips with him, the pleasure built quickly.
Rough, raw, powerful, he worked himself inside her. There was no gentleness in this as there had been the other times—he was fucking to come and make her come. “Hold on to me, mo chroí.” The words were guttural, lustful, and as she grabbed him and clung to his neck, he moved his hand to her clit and pinched it.
The same pain-pleasure reaction the stitches had brought was echoed in the pinch, but instead of having to travel, it was where it needed to be, and Cece was powerless against it, arching her back, her whole body suddenly ready to climax. But Killian was clever—he didn’t allow her to come. He held his finger over her bundled nerves and stopped all sensation. The complete lack of stimulation was a torture unto itself.
Cece realized that Killian knew how to play her body like a fine instrument. The feelings he orchestrated in her were magnificent—his cock thrusting in and hitting all the right spots while his hand made her hold on and wait for him were all perfect.
His finger pressed against her clit, and Cece bit down on his shoulder, a little more than lightly. He grunted and looked at her. “You feeling so fucking wet, Ce. Those stitches were just enough for your pussy to flood.”
“Yes.” She managed to whisper the words.
“And you love the little trips of pain I can send through you.” Killian emphasized his statement with the littlest pinch on her clit, sending her flying again.
“God, yes.” Cece was panting. “I want to come, Kay. Make me come.”
He grunted, thrusting hard inside her. “Are you gonna take all my cum?”
“Spill it all inside me. Shit, yes!”
Every word they whispered into each other’s ears was louder than a scream. Cece didn’t want to hide this anymore. She was in love with Killian and she wanted to be his life. She wanted him to be the other half of her soul. But there was too much to keep them apart, to endanger both of them. This mad fucking, this stolen lust, these hot, wet moments were all they could have, all they were able to give each other.
“I’m coming, mo chroí.” Killian’s words were low, possessed as his thick shaft worked in and out of her willing sex.
“Make me come with you.” Cece’s words were nearly begging—and Killian was the only man who had ever made the Domme beg.
The pinch on her clit was rough, sudden, and shot her straight up into a body-wracking orgasm. She wanted to scream his name, to let the world know who possessed her body and mind—and heart. But she couldn’t, and instead, swallowed his name and bit her lip to keep from letting the whole library know they were fucking against her office door.
A moment later, he slammed into her even harder than before and his motion was accompanied by a hard grunt, another rough thrust, and she felt his hot cum inside her. He released inside her twice, three times, a half dozen, each with a motion that bottomed out inside her, making her tremble with the odd painless pressure of him inside.
Not a heartbeat later, they slid down the door to end up on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Killian leaned his forehead on her cheek, the sheen of perspiration cooling them both down, but the pressure on her wound wasn’t helping anything.
“Kay, if you don’t want another round of that, you’d better put your head elsewhere.” Cece gave him a cro
oked smile when he quickly pulled back.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Cece said. “I just don’t think that Paul is going to stay away long enough for us to go another round.”
Killian laughed. “That man is observant.”
“Kay…”
“I want this all over, too, Cece. I want to be with you forever. But for now, we have to stick with the status quo.”
Cece sighed. She wanted to be able to have this man whenever the mood struck—admittedly, it struck often—but she also understood that breaking off the engagement with Paul was not a good idea, and certainly not the status quo.
There was a knock on the door behind them. Paul’s voice floated through. “If you two are done fucking each other’s brains out, Garabaldi is here and needs to talk to you.”
Cece and Killian looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Chapter Ten
The banging on the door was loud and persistent. As much as Cece wanted just to ignore the noise, usually such insistent banging was important.
Rolling out of bed and pulling on a robe, Cece headed to the front door. She mindlessly tapped in the code to disarm the house alarm and pulled the door open.
Garabaldi was standing there with two uniformed officers.
“Detective?” Her heart plunged into her feet. She had no idea what this was about.
“Miss Robbe. I hate to have to ask this, but...where were you last night between eleven and two a.m.?”
“Oh, God.” Cece wanted to puke. “I was...I was here. I got home last night after my regular shift at the library. I went to bed about eleven-thirty.”
“Did anyone see you here? Did you talk to anyone who can verify your whereabouts?”
“No. I came home, unwound, and then went to bed. Detective, what’s going on? What’s this about? Please don’t tell me this is about Hannah.”
He shook his head. “No. Your sister is still missing. Is there any way you can verify that you were here?”
Cece shook her head slowly. “No, I...I don’t have much opportunity to go out anymore, and I no longer have social circles save a few select people. I don’t...wait! The alarm! I armed it last night when I got home, and I just disabled that now. I got home at nine-thirty, or somewhere about there.”
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