“I hate when you pull out,” she whispered.
“Like me better deep inside you, do you?” he teased.
Juliette never wavered. “Yes.”
The grin slipped into that predatory glint he got just before he ravaged the shit out of her. His fingers locked in her hair. He dragged her head back as far as it would go as he leaned in to nip hard on her bottom lip.
Juliette whined in delicious pain.
“Leave with me,” he growled, running the tip of his tongue over the spot he’d assaulted.
Ready for him all over again, Juliette could only manage a weak, “Where?”
“I don’t care.” One hand slipped down to smooth over the fresh puddle filling over her opening. “Anywhere. Just name it.”
Lost in the flick of his fingers, Juliette was barely listening. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
She opened her eyes and peered up into his face mere inches from hers. “Can Vi and Mrs. Tompkins come?”
Two fingers worked deep inside her, replacing the loss of his cock, but barely. She still preferred him balls deep in her channel. Nevertheless, his fingers knew how to do that rubbing thing that made the top of her skull blow off.
“If you like.”
“Rome,” she decided, just for the hell of it. “I’ve always wanted to go. Or Venice.”
“Both then,” he offered, finding that magical spot that had her whining and begging. “All of Europe if you want.”
She was no longer listening. With a tortured sob she could barely contain behind her teeth, she came, thrashing and rocking against his palm until the very last tremor. Satisfied, she slumped back against the mirror and shut her eyes, her body exhausted and so still buzzing. Between her thighs, Killian gingerly removed his fingers. Her eyes opened and she studied him through her lashes, a teasing grin curling her mouth.
“I had this weird mid orgasm dream where you said you wanted to go across Europe.”
He chuckled as he moved to the toilet and discarded the condom. He leaned down and tugged his trousers back up. Once properly fastened, he reached for her. She allowed herself to be lowered to the ground. Her dress was smoothed back into place.
“I meant it.”
Her eyes widened. “All of Europe? That could take months!”
He shrugged. “I have time.”
A tour of Europe. It would be the greatest adventure she’d ever had. It would be the furthest she’d ever gone.
“Really?”
He nodded. “We can leave whenever you want.”
A high pitch shriek escaped her as she flung herself into his arms. She pulled back a second later, happy mood momentarily overshadowed by doubt.
“What about work? Yours and mine? And Vi has school—”
He silenced her with a gentle finger against her lips. “Tell me when and I’ll make it happen.”
Woozy with excitement, Juliette beamed up at him. Her fingers tightened in the taut skin along the back of his neck as she pulled him close.
I love you!
The three little words came out of nowhere. They socked her square in the chest with the force of a steel studded fist. All the warmth drained out of her in a single swoop, taking along with it the blood from her face. Her eyes went enormous against the sudden pallor and he caught her when she swayed.
“Juliette?” Concern tightened his fingers on her as he pulled her into his chest. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
I love you. Jesus Christ.I’m in love with you.
How the hell had that happened? When had that happened? How had she not noticed sooner? Better question, how was she going to keep him from finding out?
Chapter 17
Something was wrong. Killian could feel it every time their eyes met. There was a tremor in her gaze, a flicker of something that kept her from maintaining the contact for more than a second before focusing on something else. Plus she was unnaturally distracted. It worried him far more than he knew what to do with, especially when she refused to tell him so he could fix it.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked one evening as they lay across the tangled expense of the bed, their damp bodies cooling.
As she so often did now, she had her back to him, which she did the moment he moved off her, as though she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“About what?” Her voice was barely audible.
“Europe.”
She shook her head. “No, not unless you have.”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Juliette.”
She flinched when he touched her. Actually flinched. It was such a slap that he could only sit there with his hand outstretched, his mind torn with disbelief and a swelling of hurt.
“I need the washroom,” she whispered, already scrambling out of bed with the sheets and hurrying across the room.
What had he done? He couldn’t think of a single thing. Had he hurt her? Wouldn’t she tell him if he had? Was he asking for too much of her time? Did she need a rest? None of it made sense, because Juliette had never bottled up her feelings when she was angry with him or if he’d done something wrong. She had always been open and honest about everything. It made no sense why she was pulling away from him.
The bathroom door opened and she emerged. Dressed. He hadn’t even seen her take her clothes with her.
“Juliette?” He sat up.
“I have some work to do at home,” she whispered. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Juliette!” Her name snapped out of him in a warning growl before she could reach the door. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I told you—”
“Bullshit.” He threw himself off the bed and got to his feet. He made his way to where she stood, back rigid. “You’ve been running from me for days and I want to know why.” He softened his voice. “Have I hurt you?”
He saw her fingers draw into tight fists at her sides. Her head lowered even as it rocked from side to side.
“No.”
He barely heard her.
“Then what is it?” Carefully, terrified she’d flinch at his touch a second time, he took her arm and turned her slowly towards him. “Tell me.”
“I’ve just been tired,” she murmured, talking to her feet. “I’ll do better.”
“Stop it!” He gave her a gentle shake. “You know the only thing I care about is you.”
Her chin lifted and he was sucker punched by the tears glistening in her eyes. There was raw agony shining beneath the gold that wrenched through him. His first instinct was to shake her again until she told him what the matter was. Instead, he found his fingers moving to frame her face.
“Do I need to kill someone?”
He’d meant it as a joke—partially. He’d hoped it would make her laugh. But her face crumpled. She jerked out of his hands and ran for the door. Then she was gone before he could even wrap his head around what he’d done wrong.
There was no sleep for him that night. Never mind that he didn’t have her to lull him into unconsciousness, but couldn’t stop seeing her face, the pain trembling along her bottom lip. Over and over he’d gone over every moment of the last few days, dissecting everything they’d done together and coming up with nothing. Their love making … sex, damn it. Their sex had been as per usual. Since Halloween, he hadn’t surprised her with anything overly new. He still made sure he took care to be reasonably gentle, to not let the beast get too carried away. But the question remained.
Sleep a mere illusion, he slipped out of bed and padded from the room. The corridor lights had been dimmed, but he knew the way down with his eyes closed. A deep sort of silence echoed through the place, the kind that demanded things he couldn’t provide. His mother had designed the estate with children in mind. Lots and lots of children. She had always wanted a huge family, but could only have Killian. Her hopes had been that he would wind up giving her an army of grandchildren. Instead, he refused to give her even one. But she would understand. After what became of her and his father, she would know why it was important the McClary name died with him. Smith’s attack was the perfect example. It might have been small in the scheme of things, but it was an attack inside Killian’s home. Had he had a wife and children, had his men not been able to handle the situation … the very thought of them coming to harm drenched him in cold sweat.