“How long?” She asks quietly.
“For what?” I move toward the kitchen to get another pot of coffee started.
“That I have to stay here. How long?”
“Until the storm passes.”
“That could be hours,” She huffs.
“Then hours it’ll be,” I shrug.
Savannah disappears into the bathroom to get herself dried from being in the rain so while the coffee brews, I head toward the spare room that I left open after I caught her sneaking through my house. The door is cracked since I didn’t get a chance to close it and the painting I was working on is on display, propped on the easel, paint pallet resting on the stool.
The piece is unfinished, it’s just a mix of red and white and grey on the canvas but I see the shape. The body donned in a red dress, a crowd around her as the lights kiss her skin and she dances with an effortless grace I’ve never seen anyone but her possess.
I’ll come back to it when I am alone, but for now, I shut the door and turn the key, locking it before I pocket it and make my way back to the kitchen in time for Savannah to wander back through.
She is still soaked, her tee clinging to the shape of her.
“You’re still wet.” My fingers bite into the marble counter as I realize the white tee is entirely see through and she is not wearing a bra.
I get a glare in response.
My eyes drop to the dark spots where her nipples are, finding them peaked and pressing against the material while she scrunches a towel to the ends of her long hair, darkened now it’s wet.
“Get changed,” I demand. I can’t stand here with her looking like that. My cock is already semi hard and to be fucking taunted by her body, in my own home is just torture. I don’t know what god I pissed off for it to come to this but when I find out, I’ll be sure to atone for whatever misdeed I have committed.
“This is all I have to wear Killian,” Her hands land on her hips, “What the fuck do you expect me to do?”
“Get one of my t-shirts and sweats,” I grumble, “I don’t care, but get changed.”
She murmurs something under her breath as she turns and trudges away, slamming my bedroom door behind her. I should have let her go, she’s not stupid and would have been fine driving in the storm.
I tell myself it’s because Sebastian would never forgive me if I let her go and something happened to her but truthfully, I didn’t want to let her go with her upset with me. I deserved it of course.
I pour us both a cup of coffee and place hers on the counter, adding the single sugar and drop of milk I know she likes.
Only when she returns from changing, my tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth.
This fucking woman is going to be the death of me. There’s no doubt about it.
She’s changed, as requested, but is no longer wearing pants.
My white tee falls to around mid-thigh on her, and then it’s just all leg.
“Your sweats fall off,” She tells me before she spots the coffee on the counter, “Oh, is this for me?”
“Yes,” I grind out.
“Thanks,” She says chirpily, seemingly over the little spat minutes ago. Her eyes flick to the windows, seeing the rain still coming down in heavy torrents, “Any idea when the rain will stop?”
Soon, I hope. “No.”
“Man of many words,” She cradles her cup, “So what should we do?”
If she had any fucking idea of the things I want to do, she’d be out that door, regardless of the storm. My mind is a messy place but when she’s around, it becomes a little easier to be inside of it.
Chapter Twelve
