Page 11 of Killian
“No,” she said.
“You just said we couldn’t remember,” he objected, laughing.
“I meant we couldn’t remember ifyouwere married,” she said. “I can’t be married.”
“The very idea feels silly, doesn’t it?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Do you really think we could be on our honeymoon?” she asked, hopefully.
“Well, if it is, then it’s a very strange honeymoon,” he said, looking around again. “Frankly, I hope I would take you somewhere more designed to cater to our whims with fluffy big beds.”
“Mmm. Fluffy big beds,” said Moira, laughing at the word order but liking the sound of it. Killian leaned in.
“Poofy pillows,” he murmured, kissing her gently. “Soft sheets,” he whispered as he pulled her in closer. “Just me and you.”
“You and me,” sighed Moira, and pushed herself in to claim the kiss that was rightfully hers.
Episode 5
True Love
Killian
Kissing Moira was like flying. Or possibly like falling. But also like landing at the same time. He had the giddy feeling of risking life and limb for a singular moment of purest freedom, but she had an indefinable scent that was many things all at once, but all together meant coming home. He was overwhelmed by a windstorm of sensation. If this was what being with her was like every time, no wonder he loved her. Smell, taste, touch, Moira was everything. How could he possibly have forgotten this?
Killian pulled her into his lap. He needed to touch every bit of her. To remember what it was to be with her. He felt like their hearts were beating in the same rhythm, and the air around them seemed to echo it like a drum beat. His hands skimmed her waist, loving the curve of her hips.
She began to wriggle around, and there seemed to be some flailing, and he pulled back long enough to realize she was attempting to get out of her jacket. Yes, that needed to be done. He helped peel off the shoulders and then leaned forward to continue pushing down the sleeves. But that put his face conveniently into the curve of her neck. She arched back, and he kissed his way down into her cleavage, unzipping her shirt as he went. Her bra was a confection of lace and straps and cupped her breasts in the most tempting fashion.
“Look at that,” said Moira. “I’m a pretty bra girl. Who knew?”
“It looks impractical. We should take it off,” Killian said, and Moira laughed.
“What if we take yours off first?” she suggested tugging his shirt up. He shivered as her hands slid up his ribs. He put hisarms up and let her do all the work. Anything to have her keep touching him. The air was cool, without being cold—perfect for snuggling together for warmth. He stole kisses on all the parts that came near his lips. He realized at some point that she was probably just presenting him with different things to kiss, which was entirely acceptable to him.
He tried to memorize every new body part. The lovely dip of her collarbone. The sweet swell of her breast or the delicious texture of her nipple in his mouth. The curve of her waist and the way her ass overflowed his hand.
The light from their glowsticks shimmered on the fabrics and crystals around the room, giving everything an ethereal quality. Moira was painted in shades of blue and shadow like a vision. How could he have forgotten any of this? How could everything feel so new? Did he feel new and strange to her too?
A seed of doubt began to flourish in his head at that thought. They thought they belonged together, but what if something was wrong? He would rather die than have Moira regret anything that they did together.
Killian made a noise that barely registered as a word, but if someone really wanted, it might have beenwait.
He tried to create some distance on the couch, but his hand slipped on the silken cushions, and he only managed to wedge them closer together.
“Wha?” Moira asked breathlessly, blinking up at him in surprise.
“I’m feeling ethically challenged,” he said, knowing he sounded embarrassingly stilted but feeling that he had to say something.
Moira started to laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“Uh, you don’t have your memory. Maybe I shouldn’t…”
Moira laughed harder than ever. This was not helping his ego any.
“You don’t have your memory either,” she said, running her hand along his thigh. The growl that came out of him was bordering on feral. “But you like it when I do this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he agreed, managing to get the word out without stuttering.
