“Killian.” Her voice is breathless, happy. Eyes the color of blue-green frost shine up at me.
Emotion swamps me. It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, both leaching me of strength and giving me a rush of pure lust.
My fingers tighten at my side. I want to touch her smooth skin, slide my hand underneath the edge of her top. “Come with me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Libby
I don’t know exactly what I expected when we finally came face to face. I’d purposely let myself get carried away by Brenna’s exuberance when she dragged me all over the city so I wouldn’t think of Killian. I lost track of the boutiques we visited, trying on endless outfits and buying so many things that I ended up closing my eyes as Killian’s coveted black credit card swiped through machine after machine.
Now, my body is relaxed, my hair styled and highlighted, my brows plucked and shaped. I feel pampered and beautiful. And horny. Horribly, achingly horny.
Seeing Killian perform, his lean, muscular body glistening with sweat, his hands working his guitar with confidence, got to me. His voice, his energy, all that passion had me in utter thrall. I wasn’t the only one. Everyone was under his spell, adoring him, wanting him.
And he is here with me, his eyes hot, his touch light on the small of my back as he guides me down a dark hall.
He pauses to grab a gray hoodie lying on a pair of old speakers and slips it on, covering his bare chest. I doubt the sweatshirt is his, as the word “Staff” is in bright yellow across the back of it. His brows waggle. “My master disguise.”
Putting the hood over his head, he taps away at his phone before tucking it back in his pocket. Another glance my way, and he softly grins. “God, I missed you. I should have asked you to meet me at my place because it is fucking hard not touching you right now.”
“Why didn’t you?” My high-heel sandals clack on the concrete floors. I’m not used to wearing heels, but this dress doesn’t work with anything else. Stupid dress. It’s thin silk, and I’m braless. Every move I make sends the fabric dancing over my freshly rubbed and moisturized skin—agony because I can’t help but think of Killian’s hands, mouth, lips. I want them running over me instead.
At my side, he gives my shoulder a gentle nudge with his elbow. “Because I’m an arrogant bastard, and I wanted you to see me.”
Those luscious eyelashes bat innocently, and his smile is cheeky.
“You were so pretty,” I tell him truthfully but with a teasing tone.
He blushes. “Baby doll, you’re tempting me to stop.”
“No,” I say, with exaggerated breathiness. “Don’t stop, Killian. Don’t stop.”
I bite back a squeal as he suddenly spins, hooking me around the waist with his arm and tugging me behind a stack of crates. Our laughter mingles as he kisses me, quick, hot, playful, taking little nips of my lips. “Brat.” His eyes are alight with happiness.
I steal my own kiss before pulling back. “Take me home, lawn bum.”
Holding my hand in his, he jogs with me down the hall and into a back alley. A limo waits there.
“Michael.” Killian tips his chin to the big, beefy man standing by the car. “You met Liberty today.”
“I had the pleasure,” Michael says, opening the back door for us. “Ms. Bell.”
Michael had played the part of both chauffeur and bodyguard for Brenna and me today. We hadn’t talked much. Brenna assured me that was the norm, and shared her suspicions that Michael was actually a cyborg. Having read more than my fair share of sci-fi romance, I’d found myself wanting to agree.
Inside, the limo is cool and quiet, the windows darkly tinted to keep prying eyes out. A bucket is filled with ice-cold waters, and the privacy screen is up. I don’t get to see much more, because the moment the door closes on us, Killian’s hands cup my cheeks and his mouth is on mine. It’s sweet relief.
I drink him in, kissing him back with a fervor that surprises me. I love his taste. I love the plush but firm feel of his lips. He breathes, and I take his air into me. Because I need that. I need to know he’s alive and warm and right here. My lids prickle, the burn of tears threatening. I don’t even know why.
“God,” he groans, sucking on my bottom lip. “I needed to do that. You don’t know how much I needed it.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
Somehow I’ve ended up sprawled across the seat with Killian half on top of me. He smells of clean sweat, his firm body damp and hot against mine. And when he moves, his hoodie clings to my arm. He glances down at himself and grimaces. “I should have showered.”