She whimpers repeatedly, but her hips keep moving, wanting.
“Ass slut,” Killian scoffs, then pulls back, releasing her.
I quickly slip into the entryway before he sees me. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want them to know that I’ve been watching. I walk halfway down the hall, then turn, making it look like I’m coming from my office as Killian steps into the entryway. He doesn’t even cast a glance my way, just rushes up the stairs.
When I return to the living room, I find Jenna standing in the kitchen, looking toward the door Killian just left through, a forlorn expression heavy on her face. She turns away the moment she sees me, and the fear that she won’t need me in the end tightens. I hurry to her and take her in my arms. She’s hesitant at first, but when I don’t say anything and just hold her, she sinks into me, grabbing onto my shirt as if she badly needs me. It takes the edge off my concern, and I simply enjoy holding her and letting her find comfort with me as I lift her to sit on the counter, nestled into me.
Jenna is tense, her shoulders stiff and her breath short. After a while, a slow trembling sets in. I think she’s a little shell-shocked from the abrupt way Killian left, and it makes me wonder if this thing we have planned—him toying with her and me providing aftercare—will break her down. But then she calms, her breathing deepening, her equilibrium seeming to return. When I sit her down at the table and serve her the breakfast she was preparing, she is calm and even smiles shyly at me a few times.
Maybe this will work, after all.
30
The Talk
Ian
Despite seeing that Killian does have a protective side and then feeling how Jenna let me mend the damage his abrupt departure caused, I hold off on sending her upstairs. More than anything, I want to protect her. I feel guilty about the bench, letting Killian push her so far in front of me, and not least for my intentions of letting Killian have her on his own at all. I compensate by dialing back the discipline and dominance. Instead, I mostly just hold her, letting her come in the embrace of my arms, and making her feel safe—as if it can somehow prepare her for the turbulent ride I’m about to send her on.
A week has passed since the episode with the bench when Killian one day asks me to come upstairs so we can talk. The agitated look in his eyes tells me he’s not happy, and when I come upstairs a few minutes later, I find him pacing the music room, raking his fingers through his hair.
“When are you gonna let me have her?” he demands the moment I close the door behind me.
“Soon.”
“This is taking too long.” His footsteps thud harder against the floor as he picks up pace. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. You’re just keeping her to yourself.”
“I’m not.”
He scoffs. “No? Then why the hell can’t I have her? You’ve seen how wet she gets around me. And I know you watched us in the kitchen. Yousawhow badly she wanted me.”
Before he can call me out for intruding on their private moment, I say, “You crossed a line that morning. We had agreed that you wouldn’t touch her when alone with her.”
“Yeah, well, we weren’t alone now, were we?” He pauses to shoot me a sharp glare, then starts pacing again. “And stop making excuses. We both know that’s not the reason. I’ve kept away from her long enough, going along withallyour rules, and still, you won’t let me have her.”
“She’s still recovering after the incident with the bench.”
“The hell she is. You’re just keeping her to yourself. What are you afraid of? That she’ll find out she wants me more?”
His words hit the nail on the head. The uncertainty gets the better of me, and I deepen my voice to an angry command. “Enough. This is my home, my rules. If you don’t like them, you can leave.”
“Fuck you. Selfish bastard.” He storms off, slamming the door with a force that rattles the pictures on the wall.
Guilt and worry draw tight when I hear the front door slam a few minutes later. He always comes back when he storms out, yet part of me can’t stop wondering if this will be the time he decides not to come back.
During the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about what he said—that I want her to myself and am afraid she’ll want him more. He’s right. That’s exactly what I’m doing. But I’m also trying to keep Jenna safe, and as much as Killian has shown promising signs of being ready, he has also done a lot of thingsthat point in the opposite direction. Even so, I can’t continue keeping her from him. If we don’t test the waters, we’ll never see how it goes.
***
I’m relieved to hear that Killian is back the next morning. I go upstairs and find him playing the third movement of Beethoven’s “Tempest” sonata with furious energy, head jerking with the wild force of the music. It’s one of the pieces he usually returns to when emotions are about to get the better of him.
He doesn’t hear me coming, so I pause at the door, listening while he finishes the piece.
When he’s done, I clap my hands and step closer. “If keeping her from you makes you play like that, maybe I should hold on to her a while longer.”
He darts off the bench with a furious motion that makes it topple over. “I’ve had enough of this shit. If I don’t get her by the end of this week, I’mtakingher.”
“Relax, Killian. You’ll have her. Sit down before you break something.” I point at the couch, and he drops onto it, though watching me angrily. His temper might spiral out of control sometimes, but he’s smart enough to shut it down when his brain kicks back in.
