Page 69 of Yearning Difficulties

‘Killian,’ I sighed against his mouth.

He kissed me ruthlessly. ‘I haven’t been able to think straight since last night. So fucking scared. Seeing you fall from that horse.’

‘I’m fine,’ I reminded him through kisses. ‘I’m fine, Kill.’

He pressed me down on the bed and lay his body atop mine, careful and considerate of his weight. He kissed me again, deeper this time and with more determination. He groaned when I slipped my tongue into his mouth and he hissed my name when I moaned in return at the feel of his hands on my body. I felt an alarming sense of power rise up in me. I somehow knew he would do whatever I asked of him.

Dave’s touch had always felt intrusive and boorish. In our make-out sessions in the back of his car, he’d never listened to my body. Never checked in with what I needed. He’d taken and expected me to be pleased with him just marking the steps instead of actually dancing the dance. I’d begun to fear his touch, because it made me worry that I was broken for not enjoying it.

I didn’t feel broken with Killian.

My fingers searched for his skin under the clean shirt he was wearing and we both fumbled to pull it from him. He cast it to the floor and kissed me harder. There was something deeply hungry in the way he touched me and sparks of déjà vu started to electrify my brain. But I knew I’d never been kissed that way before.

It was the kind of kiss you dreamed about during the witching hour. The kind that you didn’t want to wake up from.

‘Turn over,’ he murmured against my lips.

I did, lying on my front and smiling as he kissed the nape of my neck. I was wearing a white lace dress and when he gently touched the zipper on my back, I nodded.

He pulled the small piece of metal down until my back was bare and I laughed against the coverlet as he made a tortured sound.

‘Zella, you’ve got no idea.’

He started running his fingers through my hair and whispering about how beautiful it was. His fingers landed on my claw clip and he gently unclasped it, laying it on the bedside table. My eyes followed the movement and when I looked at the small collection of items by his bed, my heart stopped.

The Post-it saying ‘Call Claire’. And a well-thumbed copy of The Lord of the Rings.

I stared at the book.

An ice-cold bucket of reality splashed over me, killing the heat in my skin. I struggled into a sitting position, holding my dress to me and staring at all of the tabs sticking out of the Tolkien novel. I thought of Max. I thought of how we would endlessly yell quotes at one another. How I had never felt like I was a fortress with her, even though other people had to fight to see inside because I didn’t know how to lower the drawbridge. Max had accepted the pieces of me I’d needed to hide. She’d never asked too much of me.

And suddenly the broken parts of my heart hurt so badly, I could only feel the urgent need to run and hide, like a wounded animal.

Killian sensed the change in me and stopped instantly. I was surprised. It had always taken a few words and a shove to get Dave to stop.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked gently. ‘What do you need? Whatever it is, I’ll get it for you.’

Twenty-Four

Yearning Difficulties

Today’s Track: ‘Bottles and Bones’ by Califone

‘Call Claire,’ I breathed.

I didn’t want to come between him and his no-longer-a-Mystery Girl. I told myself that very thing as I pressed my back against his headboard and avoided his pleading expression. I forced myself to think of the third person in this situation, one who didn’t deserve to be an after-thought. It didn’t matter how much I wanted him.

He didn’t belong to me.

I told myself that was the reason for my heart aching. For my memories flooding against my mental barriers like an angry mob.

But the truth was something much harder to bottle, harder to explain.

I couldn’t even be honest with myself about it, let alone him.

‘Kill, we shouldn’t,’ I said brokenly.

He stared at me, arousal now blended with concern. ‘We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to, Zella.’