Killian keeps his distance at first, but as I scoot closer, he does the same until we’re touching.
My whole body reels at the feeling of him, and a well of emotion I didn’t even realize was there rises to the surface. “Will you please hold me?” I ask in a hoarse voice full of barely hidden grief.
Killian doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around me and molds his body into mine.
His stammering is gone when he smooths his hand over my forehead and says with shocking sincerity, “I’ve got you, Jenna. I won’t ever hurt you again. You’re the only thing that matters anymore. Keeping you safe. If that means leaving you, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
That touch—those words—break me. A sob wrenches from my chest, and then I’m shaking with the full force of grief ripping through my body.
Killian tightens his grip around me. “Sweet Jenna. I’m so sorry. For everything. But I’m here now. If you want me, I’m here. I’ve got you.”
“I hate you,” I seethe, anger rising. “So damn much.”
“It’s okay. I-I hate me too.”
“I fucking hate you. I wish I’d never met you. I wish...” My voice trails off because I don’t mean it. Despite everything, I can’t bear the idea of never knowing Killian. And that thought only escalates my grief. It racks through me with a force that shakes me to the core. I turn around, clawing at Killian’s chest, seeking purchase through the storm. He tightens his grip, holding me so tight I can barely breathe. But it’s the only thing keeping me together, and I desperately hope he’ll never let me go as the emotions keep tearing.
I don’t know when or how I manage to calm down, but at some point, I realize the tears have stopped and I’m lying still in his arms—still clinging to him, but feeling somewhat calm, nonetheless.
“Where have you been?” I ask in a hoarse voice.
“A hotel.”
“Why?”
He draws a shuddery sigh. “Because I was doing more harm than good here.”
“Then why did you come back?”
He cradles the back of my head, the same way his father does, and it’s the same aching tenderness as he presses a kiss to my head. “I couldn’t stand being away from you.” He pauses, and I sense a sort of vulnerability coming as his voice softens.“B-but it hurts being around you, w-without being close to you.”
A latent sort of fear awakens inside me. I push up to watch him through the darkness. “Don’t leave again. Please, Killian. I need you here.” I’m not sure I even realized it before, but now, it’s crystal clear. Even though I’m not ready to forgive him, I need him.
“Okay,” he agrees, stroking the hair from my face. “I won’t leave again.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
I watch him through the darkness, the sharp lines of his face and the sincerity in his gaze. He’s different. It’s like the Killian I first fell for is back. Or maybe he was in there all along, just hidden behind layers and layers of hurt and insecurities. In a moment of bold clarity, I lean down and press my lips to his. I’m about to pull away and leave before I can find out whether he’ll reject or accept it, but Killian grabs the back of my head. He presses our lips together in a long, firm kiss. Then he starts moving, slowly caressing my lips with his.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I was six,” he murmurs against my lips, and I moan as he dips his tongue into my mouth. “Taste you, kiss you, feel you leaning into me.”
I do just that. I sink into him, melting in his firm grip as our tongues intermingle in what feels like our first true kiss. It’s not just Killian taking; it’s us both connecting, sharing this sweet moment of tender affection. It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had. Somehow even better than Ian’s. It’s years and years of desire and longing coming together and finding release in the sweetest kiss I could ever imagine. It’s tempting to fall under his spell and let it consume me. But I can’t take that risk. Not yet.
So I break the kiss and lean away. “I’m not ready to forgive you,” I whisper.
He strokes my cheek softly. “I know. It’s okay. I’ll wait. Days, weeks, years. However long it takes. I’m yours, Jenna. Always have been. I’m just sorry it took me so long to see it.”
I try to come up with a response, but all that needs to be said has been said. For now. So I place a final kiss on his lips, then rush off.
When I crawl into bed beside Ian a minute later, a new sort of hope I haven’t felt since I was eight is blooming in my chest.
“Are you okay?” Ian asks and pulls me close.
I turn around and curve my hand around his cheek. “I will be,” I say, and at that moment, I truly believe it. Because of this man, I’m healing. Slowly but surely. What Killian did hasn’t broken all the good his father did. Not irrevocably, at least. It has wounded me, and the healing will be long and hard, but I’m not broken. “I’m yours,” I say, and those words hold a healing power all of their own.
“Always,” he says with fierce determination and pulls me close. “Always.”
