Page 23 of Arrogant Bastard

“Any chance of a good-night kiss?” he drawls.

“Does my knee between your legs count?” I snap back.

He grimaces but stays leaning in the doorway, and shit, even the way he angles that hot body is so gorgeous that I want to curse long and hard.

He waves a hand toward the adjoining bath and dressing room. “Fresh toothbrush and other stuff through there. If you need anything else, come find me.”

I remain silent by the bed, exhausted but feeling as if I could still go ten rounds. The fact that I want nine of those ten rounds to involve his cock inside me is not an admission I welcome very easily, even to myself.

He doesn’t say anything either, and we stare at each other for a full minute, the past chewing up the ground between us like a force five tornado.

His fingers find his back pockets, and he rocks on his feet like he’s straining to stay away. “It’s so fucking good to see you again, baby.” His voice is rough, raw, and insanely sexy.

He probably doesn’t expect me to respond. And I don’t. Most likely because I don’t know how much more of his presence I can take without screaming for a repeat of everything he did to me earlier. And more. After another minute, he gives me that sad smile again and walks away.

A popped balloon has nothing on the way I wilt onto the bed. I’m alone for the first time since Killian exploded back into my life. My heart hasn’t stopped hammering, and a huge part of me already strains with the need to see him again.

I’m reeling from fresh shock ten minutes later when I emerge from the dressing room. The other stuff turned out to be a closet full of clothes that looked suspiciously like the ones I left behind in his various residences during our time together. Everything down to the saucy underwear that was our thing for a short while.

My hands are shaking when I draw back the covers, get into bed, and pull them up to my chin.

Jesus. I’m nowhere near ready for any of this. I’m especially not ready to tell Killian that someone from our past already found me three weeks ago.

Chapter Eight

Killian

Sheer exhaustion is the only thing that manages to knock me out the moment my head touches the pillow. But even in sleep, my subconscious can’t stop frantically spazzing with the knowledge that she’s finally here under my roof. It’s that frenzied restlessness that jackknifes me awake three hours later.

I don’t even try to stay away. I wore sweatpants to bed instead of sleeping in the buff so I wouldn’t need to get dressed when I woke up. I don’t bother with anything else before I leave my room and make my way down the hallway.

In the early hours of the morning while she was knocked out, I disabled the bedroom lock and made sure there was nothing in the room she could use to keep it shut. Nothing that would keep me out indefinitely anyway. She’s resourceful so I don’t count anything out. Except maybe the likelihood that she would sleep in the guest room in the first place rather than in my bed.

We have a lot of shit to wade through. Do I think half of our problems can be worked out in bed? Fuck, yes. But I’m willing to do things her way. For now. As long as she concedes to a few things.

I push on her door and breathe a sigh of relief when it silently swings open. She’s lying facedown, her hair a jet-black stream over one arm. A few heavy tendrils lie across her forehead and temple, partially barring her face from me. My fingers itch with the need to smooth them back, but I see enough cheek and mouth to be momentarily satisfied. I lean against the door and content myself with just staring. For now.

The covers have slipped down around her waist, enough for me to see that she slept in her tank top and the panties she had on last night, instead of using the dozens of night things I supplied her with. I let that go and trace the rest of her stunning body before tracking back up to her face.

Her eyes are open, and she’s staring at me through a veil of hair. “Are you going to stand there all day staring at me like some creep?”

I laugh at her caustic but sleep-sexy tone. God, how I’ve missed that feistiness. Knowing she found her voice with me adds a little extra kick to my obsession that I won’t deny is extremely heady. She broke out of the hideous suburban mold Matt tried to stuff her in and shed a few skins once she left Arkansas. And with each layer of her new, true self exposed, I fell deeper under her spell. “You’re supposed to be asleep so I can creep in peace.”

She rolls to her side, pushing her hair back from her face. The strap of her top slips, and I get an eyeful of her naked shoulder and slope of her breast. My temperature spikes, and the morning wood I woke up with doubles in size.

“I thought it was a dream,” she murmurs almost to herself.

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Want me to reenact some of the good bits for you?”

Her gaze meets mine and then drops to the hard-on tenting my pants before she looks away. “No thanks,” she snaps before she sits up. Although she turns away, I see her gaze dart back to my cock before she pulls up the covers. “Did you want something?”

“Besides you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Killian…”

---