Page 99 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
A rumble beneath my palm.
I can feel his resolve breaking.
The tension and the way his body vibrates along mine.
He’s close to giving in.
To handing over what I really, truly want.
He’s so.
Damn.
Close.
I tug against his hold on my face until I can kiss him again, pressing my lips to his in a greedy taking that usually comes from him. He hesitates for a moment before he returns the kiss, his hand sliding to cup the back of my head and angle it so he can glide his tongue across my lips and delve deep in, tasting me, consuming me the way I’ve longed for.
Every nerve ending in my body flares to life.
A low whimper slips from my lips, and he captures it, slowing the kiss and then pulling away.
“Fucking hell, Willow.” He pants wildly, his chest heaving against my own. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I promise. Every fucking minute. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”
I cling to his shirt, clutching the soft fabric in my hands. “You always do.”
“I thought you’d hate me after I told you what I said.” He drops his forehead to mine and heaves out a long, uneven breath that’s as shaky as he is right now. “I thought…God, when I found you in the river, I prayed maybe it was God giving me a second chance to make up for what I’d done. But then I thought there was no forgiving that.”
“There wouldn’t have been, if I actually believed you meant it. If I didn’t know you and how you react…often badly.”
His temper, shortness, and volatility toward pretty much anyone always stemmed from his desire to just get things done quickly, efficiently—right.
No bullshit.
No wasted time.
It scared people, but the time I spent in this cabin with him and his family showed me who he really was.
“I’ve always known that about you, Killian. Impolite in public, rough with anyone who disrupts your day, volatile when someone crosses a line.”
I thought he had never been that way with me, but he was right.
He did cross a line that day.
But he didn’t say what he did to hurt me; he said it because he was scared. Because he was hurting himself. Because he didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he had of his own potential inadequacy.
He hates to fail.
And failing at being a father would have been the ultimate failure for him.
After losing his at such a young age, he undoubtedly thought he wouldn’t know how to be a good one, but he couldn’t have gotten it more wrong.
It was stupid, idiotic, but he never stopped loving me.
He did it because he loves me, because he thought he would lose this.
Us.
He kisses me again, his groan rumbling through his chest and into mine as he reaches down and grasps my hips, lifting me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist, the dull ache in my side at the motion barely even registering anymore. How can it with his hands buried in my hair, his mouth moving over mine, our breaths mingling with each desperate meeting of our lips.
