“Get in the car,” he mumbled, needing to move, needing to do something other than stand there and feel her eyes burning into him with confusion and, God help him, pity.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t!” he warned, already turning away. “Just don’t. Get in.”
He didn’t wait for her to follow him. He stalked to the passenger’s side door and yanked it open.
There was a moment of pause. Then he heard the quiet shuffle of her feet crossing to him. She slid into the seat and he shut the door behind her. He rounded the hood and climbed in behind the wheel. Neither spoke as he maneuvered the car back onto the road.
She sat huddled against the door, her face painted in lines and shadows. Exhaustion seemed to pour off her in waves to suffocate the air around them. Killian had never found himself in that position before and had no idea what to say or do to make her stop twisting up his insides.
“Are you hungry?” he asked at last.
“No, thank you,” she whispered.
The leather beneath his grasp squeaked as his grip tightened around the wheel. They reached the base of the hill and started down the road in the direction of the city.
“The bus stop is at the end of that block,” she murmured, never lifting her head off the glass.
“Not leaving you at the bus stop,” he said evenly.
She sighed and straightened. “You don’t have to take me all the way home. I live an hour out of the city.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, he activated the GPS built into the car.
“Put your address in,” he told her.
She hesitated and he wondered if she was worried he might rob her in the dead of night. After all, in her eyes, he was no better than a good for nothing lowlife like Arlo. She’d said so herself. The thought annoyed him far more than was rational. He was nothing like Arlo and for her to think he was, was insulting. He may not have been the sort of man she deserved, but he sure as hell wasn’t Arlo.
She put her address into the machine and sat back. The map on the screen swirled until it synced their location and shot a purple arrow through the streets they needed to take.
“In six kilometers, turn—”
He set it on mute.
Juliette lay her head back against the headrest and stared out the window as they shot through a near empty city lit by lamps and the pale fingers of dawn. Pink and pale blue bled into navy blue and black as they hit Main Street. Every so often, she’d grind her knuckles into her eyes and yawn, but remained awake the whole way to her house, a squat two story that had clearly seen better days. It sat in a neat little neighborhood, surrounded by manicured lawns and well kept houses.
It wasn’t exactly a rich area, but reasonably well off. Juliette’s house seemed to be an exception. The paint was flaking. The grass was dead in patches. There were several shingles missing off the roof and the whole place radiated with a sort of hollow despair normally found in abandoned places. For a moment, he thought maybe the GPS had taken him to the wrong place. But Juliette was taking off her belt as he pulled into the empty driveway. She grabbed her purse up off the car floor and reached for the door handle.
“Thank you,” she said as she threw the door open. “And I’m sorry about my breakdown earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
The thought that that was her way of yelling almost made him laugh. But he could only shake his head as she climbed out. He stayed until she had stepped inside and the door had shut firmly behind her. Only then did he pull away.
Chapter 6
There was a level of soreness most people didn’t know existed. It was the sort that started in the thighs and splintered across the length of the body in bunched knots of agony. Juliette had never felt so used. Everything hurt and not in the good way romance novels always portrayed after a serious fuckfest.
Her thighs throbbed as though she had spent the night riding a stone horse. Her breasts felt tender and held the lingering remains of Killian’s demanding fingers, as did her waists, thighs, arms, and ass. Her lips were swollen from his and felt oddly numb. But it was her pussy that hurt the most. Granted, it wasn’t all bad, but there was enough soreness to make Juliette wince every time she attempted to sit down. Having seven inches of hard, angry man meat rammed into untouched territories no doubt had that effect. But he had been gentle as well, she mused. He hadn’t been pleased about the state of her experience, that was for sure, but she knew Arlo would not have cared one way or another whether she was in pain or not. Killian had practically been a saint in comparison. He had also been thorough and attentive. He had put her pleasure above his own each time. Pain aside, it had been the best first time a girl could ask for. She had come … often and hard. She had felt the sharp sting of passion as her body had been ripped apart and rebuilt. It may not have been a night she willingly wanted, but it was a night she would never forget either.
Until it was over. Exhaustion and pain had broken her and she had fallen to pieces for the first time in ages. She had said things she regretted, but what was worse, she had let him see her cry. That was something she regretted most. People like him, people who lived on power and the throats of their victims, thrived on the show of weakness. While she didn’t believe Killian was like that, not entirely, she couldn’t help wondering if he would use what happened the night before to his advantage somehow.
She prayed she was wrong. She prayed that would be the last time she ever saw Arlo or … no. Not Killian. It was horrible and contradictory to everything her brain was telling her, but the thought of seeing him again didn’t fill her with dread. If anything, the thought made her body prickle with awareness and her breast tingle.
Stop it! She scolded herself, trying not to dwell on things she couldn’t change.
Instead, she focused on pulling on a light summer dress and a pair of flats. She brushed out her hair, swept on some makeup and hurried downstairs to start on the mile long list of errands she’d written out a week ago before having to face work later that evening.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Tompkins looked up from the previous night’s chicken casserole she was scrapping into the trash and smiled.
“Hello dear. How was your evening?”
“Exhausting,” Juliette confessed. “How was yours? Did Vi behave herself?”
“Didn’t hear a peep from her the whole night. Didn’t eat her supper of course, but went up to her room and didn’t come out.”
Juliette nodded. “I’m glad she didn’t give you a hard time.” She sighed and checked her watch. “I have to run to the bank and then the grocery store before heading out to work. I’ll be back some time after midnight.”
Mrs. Tompkins smiled and nodded. “All right, dear. Be safe.”
With a wave, Juliette left the house. She hurried along the sidewalk in the direction of the bank. The day was warm with just the right amount of breeze to make it beautiful. It was the sort of day she would have spent in the park, on the towel in nothing but a bikini and sunscreen while her friends chattered on around her and Stan played football with his buddies a few yards away. It had been years since she had been so frivolous, but the pain was still so raw, so fresh. It always felt like she’d lost everything only yesterday.
But she did what she always did when the lingering fingers of depression began creeping across her chest, she reminded herself she had a sister who needed her. She and Vi may not have ever gotten along, but the girl was the only family Juliette had. It was her job to protect her. Something she couldn’t do if she let the darkness consume her.
Forcing aside her sadness, she squared her shoulders and ducked into the frigid interior of the bank. The place was nearly empty with only an elderly woman at the teller depositing a check. Juliette followed the neatly painted arrow across the floor to the please wait here sign. She was there a full second before she was waved over.