The motorcycle rumbled to life and we sped off towards our first stop.
**
“This is amazing pizza. I’m glad you didn’t take me to some fancy place with chandeliers.” She swallowed her mouthful of pizza and went back for more from her slice. I nodded my agreement. I’d taken her to Secret Pizza, best pizza joint in Vegas as far as I’m concerned.
“Didn’t take you for that type of girl.” I looked her over, savoring how she looked in this moment. Her hair was braided to the side, and the makeup she’d used just enhanced her features, and wasn’t caked on. She was wearing jeans and a tank top, with a knit sweater over it. The boots covering her feet looked nice over the jeans. She was beautiful, even with the pizza sauce on her upper lip.
“I’m not. I don’t like super fancy things, never have.” It was something I guessed about her right away. She wasn’t the glamorous type; women like that weren’t into truckers. Not that she was into me.
“Drinks and dancing after?” I asked, making sure that’s what she still wanted to do.
“Yep. Hope you don’t mind.” She was honestly worried whether I would have a problem with it or not.
“Don’t care. I’ll make sure you get back to the truck safe.” And I would. She wanted to drink away her sorrows for the night, and I’d watch over her. When she felt like shit the next day of our drive, she could sleep it off in the bunk. Her life was put in my hands the moment I agreed to her deal, and I wasn’t going to let her be smothered.
“Thanks, Killian. I know you’re not my biggest fan. I talk a lot, and like to bounce around in my seat. But I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You don’t really know it, but you’ve helped me so much.” She finished eating her pizza and looked at me with hope in her eyes. She thought I didn’t like her. I was torn between wanting to correct her and letting her continue thinking that. If she thought I wasn’t a fan of her, as she put it, she would keep her distance. If she knew she was crawling under my skin to deeper places, I’m not sure what would happen. Unable to stop myself, my fingers lifted and wiped the sauce off her lips with my thumb. Her lips were soft, and her warm breath caressed me through her parted lips.
“Been there. I got you.” I felt like an asshole again for not correcting her, but it was for the best.
We paid for dinner, and then I took us to Carnaval Court, an open-air club. It was cold out, but once she got moving her body would warm up quickly. I wasn’t into indoor places where I couldn’t get out easily. This was the place I felt safest, outside.
She quickly ordered a drink, and thus began the night officially.
Three shots later, she finally made it out to the dance floor. She wiggled her ass, and threw her hands in the air, letting her inhibitions go. A few men had tried to dance with her, but when their eyes made contact with mine, I gave them the look that said to remove their hands or I’d break them off and toss them over my shoulder. They got the picture, and she danced alone, not having a problem with it one bit. I briefly wondered if she was going through an I-hate-men hiatus. She hadn’t made a move on Joel; I was surprised when he told me that. And she wasn’t looking for any attention from guys here, either. She just wanted to dance and drink her memories away. The great puzzle of why she was on the run was starting to drive me nuts.
Her eyes caught mine staring at her, and she danced her way over to me. Hell.
“Hey there, grumpy. You need to loosen up; come dance with me,” she demanded, and grabbed my hand, trying to pull me off my stool. It was a comical sight to see.
“I’m good here.”
“Come on, pleaseee,” she begged, and I was still holding true to my words. She could turn her desperate eyes on me all she wanted but I did not dance.
“Nope,” I told her, and took a sip of my water. No alcohol for me tonight, not while watching her.
“Why don’t the men in my life ever want to dance with me? Am I really that horrible a dancer?” She let go of me and took a step back, her bright smile slipping off her face.
“Maybe we should go,” she said, subdued. She was falling fast. Fuck. My drink was on the table in seconds, and my hand grabbed hers, leading her to a dancing spot. Mentally I was cursing myself and her for doing this, but I couldn’t handle her going back into the darkness when I could do something about it. She smiled and started to move with the song. I wouldn’t be giving her the moves like Jagger, but I swayed, trying to get her to get back into her good mood.
“You’re dancing!” She stared at me in awe. I rolled my eyes.
“Take advantage,” I told her, and that sunshine smile appeared on her face once again.
Chapter Thirteen
Livia
Killian was dancing with me. Another medal for Livia Jones, people! I wiggled my hips from side to side and felt the beat down in my bones. My plan to get over my call with Dr. Janice was going successfully. I was enjoying my life, and while I might not be completely facing it head on, I had accepted what was given to me and was trying to move forward. Right now that included shots and dancing with this man. His eyes never left mine, and I wasn’t going to give up looking at him for anything right now.
The song’s beat was perfect, and the lyrics were talking about being a lifeline. Killian, whether he knew it or not, had become like a lifeline for me in this moment. I had felt like I was drowning, and he let me jump on his boat with him. Ever since, any time I started to fall, he subtly helped me stay afloat. This was my theme song right now. With the alcohol running through my system I felt the need to tell him that.
“This is my theme song for this moment.” His eyes lit up, intensifying the heat held in them. It was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop myself; my body inched closer to his, fingers running up his chest and weaving my hands around his neck. Our bodies were touching, and he hadn’t pulled back. He was watching me with that heated stare, trying to read me. His hands stayed at his side and I moved against him, writhing against his hips, enjoying the beat.
It wasn’t until I felt his cock growing while I moved against him that I stilled. He was getting hard for me? Was it just because I was a woman moving against him, or did he actually want me? A thought I truly hadn’t considered until this moment.
When I started to move away from him, ashamed, his hand reached out and grabbed my arm, preventing me from leaving him. I tried to read his emotions through his stormy eyes, but all he had was that intense stare.
“You shouldn’t be drowning on your own.” It was part of the lyric to the song, but I get what he meant. Right now, we were together. Something had changed in him, something feral, something irrevocably provocative. His head leaned down to where his breath teased my cheek by my ear.
