I’ve gone from flailing erratically to sobbing in Killian’s arms.
I’m a mess, burying my face into his broad chest and surrendering to the tide of emotion. It’s a culmination of everything I’ve felt the past ten years.
Fear. Helplessness. Anger. Frustration. Sorrow.
And so much more…
Killian says nothing. He holds me where I am, collapsed against his chest, my face pressed into his shirt, tears dampening the fabric.
A large hand cups at the back of my head. Thick fingers stroke at tight curls, uncaring how each coil tangles around them.
The backpack’s been dropped to the floor, forgotten at our feet.
I sniffle and pull slightly back. My head tips up for a blurry-eyed glance at him.
To say I’m embarrassed… is possibly the understatement of the year.
The same humiliating heat returns to my face as our gazes meet, and I brace for more scolding. For him to finish the lecture he’d started.
I’m not sure what to think. But even through the tears blurring my vision, the look in his eyes sends a shiver coursing down my spine.
His eyes, normally deep like an ocean storm, flicker with understanding. They tell me he gets it.
He knows, even without me ever having told him.
He slowly reaches up as if giving me half a second toresist. Then he’s sliding the glasses off my face. I blink, wet eyelashes stuck together and heart lodged in my throat.
Carefully, he folds the pair and sets them aside on the kitchen table. I’m so startled, I’m frozen, unable to do anything but watch as his hands return to my face.
He cradles my cheeks in his enormous, calloused hands, and I’m still not sure what to expect. I’m lost as to what’s happening, even as he holds my gaze and more tears slip free.
But they don’t go far. They’re sliding down my face when his thumbs wipe them away.
He brushes them off one by one, catching them before they fall.
Once they’re gone, he moves to pick back up my glasses. To return them back to my face now that he’s cleared the tears away.
It’s dutiful and comforting. It’s tenderness unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
All at once, if I didn’t before, I understand now who Killian is, and why he’s known as the Callahan clan’s righthand man.
He’s the resilient, dutiful soldier. The loyal one who stands guard and protects what’s his at all costs. He’s as real and honest and sincere as it gets.
A wave of gratitude washes over me. A sudden burst of bravery follows, only thinly disguising the abrupt affection underneath.
I grab his hand to stop him from putting the glasses back on my face. Looking him in the eye more certain than I’ve ever been in my life, I push myself onto the tip of my toes.
I take Killian Rourke by surprise and kiss him, pressing my lips to his.
THIRTEEN
Killian
I’ve been punchedin the face more times than I can count. But nothing’s ever hit me like Jhene Prince’s lips on mine.
My brain says stop. My body says…fuck that.
Her soft mouth’s on mine, and every thought I’ve ever had goes straight out the window.
