“One more day,” he shouted back.
“It’s been four days.”
He returned to her side and stood over her. “One more day.”
She blew a curl out of her face. “Then sit with me.”
He’d loved to, but Cooper was on the sofa with her. “No room for me, Sweetheart.”
Her face went soft, the way it did when he used endearments. “At least I’m with you,” she muttered.
Yeah, she was. It was something else they were going to need to talk about. It had only been four days, but he liked her here. Wanted to make it a permanent thing. He wasn’t sure how that would work with her putting all the work into her place, but it was a conversation they were having and soon. There was something they needed to talk about now. He’d held off for too long. He settled on the coffee table.
“We got to talk.”
“This sounds serious.”
“Donnelly mentioned to you that Kenneth Callahan was working with the mob.”
Her expression shifted, closed off. “Yes.”
Despite what Brock had said about it being handled, not fucking likely, no one would sit back after losing twenty million, and with the added shit with the leak, it was a fucking powder keg, one Brock was right in the middle of and that fucker was in Little Hill.
“He wasn’t working alone, and Donnelly believes Kenneth’s partner is looking for Brock.”
Worry and anger swept her face. “Why?”
“Money, lots of it.”
“Hasn’t he been through enough?” she hissed, then demanded, “Who’s this partner?”
“Dustin Thompson.”
Took her a second. “Fucking Declan’s dad. Never liked Declan.” There was more going on in her head, but she didn’t share. Killian continued, not really wanting to put this on her, but she deserved to know.
“Brock is in an MC.”
“Iron Guardians.” She wasn’t asking.
“He’s the president.”
“So, Donnelly does know where he is.” He heard as well as saw her pain. “That’s who came to see you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
She shifted, her hand coming to rest on Cooper’s head. “He’s an outlaw,” she whispered. “He deserved so much better. Deserved to have his cottage on the beach.” Tears filled her eyes; she lowered her head to hide them.
“Some of his crew is in Little Hill.”
Her head snapped up. “What?” She put it together. “The bar fight.”
“Yeah.”
There was more than hope in her voice when she asked, “Is Brock…”
He was her past, a part of her, but seeing and hearing the evidence that she still loved him twisted Killian up. “Yeah.”
She didn’t react the way he thought she would. “Have you seen him?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t know what she was thinking, but she reached for his hand and held it. That was all he needed. He held hers tighter.
“How much money are we talking about? It’s been fifteen years.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Twenty million.”
“Well, fuck.”
Cedar found him later that day. She’d gotten off the sofa, but when her hands moved around his waist and she pressed her body against his back, he bit back the order to return to it.
She pressed a kiss on his back. “Losing my parents and Brock changed me.”
Killian tensed.
“I used to be so different, so carefree. I moved to the beat of my own drum, and I didn’t care if people joined me or laughed at me. Their loss was a hit, one that knocked me on my ass and left me stumbling for years. I moved here and met you.” She chuckled. “You were the first person to make me feel again. Sure, it was frustration and annoyance, but it was something. I’ve carried a weight in my chest for fifteen years, but being here, being with you, that weight is lifting. I can’t effectively put what I want to say into words, but I’m not stumbling anymore, and if I do, it’s you I want to catch me.”
He turned, grabbed her hips and lifted her on the counter, spreading her legs and settling between them. He said nothing, her words playing on repeat in his head. His hands came to rest on the counter on either side of her. He leaned in, pulled her lower lip between his teeth, bit down then sucked it into his mouth. He kept his eyes opened when he kissed her, his tongue pushing between her lips to taste her. Her hands moved to his waist, her fingers curling around the edge of his jeans. Her eyes were opened, too, watching. His mouth moved to her neck, over her shoulder. His hand slipped under her tee to cup her breast, his thumb brushing across the hard peak. His mouth replaced his hand, his tongue played with her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. He kissed down her stomach. Cupped the back of her head and lowered her onto the counter. Grabbing her thighs, he pulled her to the edge. His fingers curled around her sweats and he pulled them down her legs. Dropping them on the floor, he lifted her leg, kissed her ankle, up to her calf, her inner thigh.
“Oh god.” She moaned; her hips shifted.
He smelled her and took a deep inhale, held it in his lungs, before he pulled the lace down her legs. Their gazes collided, her looking down her body, when he tongued her clit.
“Oh my god.” She moaned, her heading falling back to the counter.
His hand moved under her ass, lifting her to his mouth. He pushed his tongue deep into her.
“Yes.” Her hips bucked, her fingers laced into his hair as his lips, tongue and teeth brought her to the edge of orgasm and then over it.
“Oh god, Killian,” she screamed, as she fucked his face, her hips riding him to prolong the orgasm.
Her taste exploded on his tongue. He took his time lapping it up and only then did he straighten. Her legs went around him and pulled him closer. He bent over her and kissed
