Page 32

That’s the only way I can explain how I press my lips to Killian’s, breathing him in with what feels like the first deep breath I’ve taken in so fucking long.

And in some twisted miracle, he kisses me back. Killian grips my face, his fingers gentle and cool against my burning skin, and I open for him. He slides a hand back, into my hair, and slips his tongue between my lips. My body is on fire. He feels incredible, and I feel so alive. His tongue dances in perfect harmony with mine, sweet like the hot chocolate and Christmas cookies we’ve been snacking on all night.

The Christmas cookies that Killian bought for my kids. For his half-siblings.

I freeze, the thought dousing me in cold water. And just like that, time starts again, the world comes flooding back into focus, and I bolt.

I push back, leaving Killian stunned, blinking at me as I scramble off the couch.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Scar—” He moves like he’s going to stand and I can’t do this right now.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

I turn and run, refusing to look back, no matter how badly I want to. I don’t breathe until I’m in my bedroom with the door closed, don’t let myself think until I’ve rushed through my bedtime routine and I’m safely under the covers. This little problem I’ve created will still exist in the morning, but I can’t face it while I can still feel the tips of his fingers against my scalp.

What the hell have I done? I kissed Dom’s son. What kind of person finds out they were unwittingly the other woman in an affair for years, then develops feelings for the son of said married couple? There has to be something wrong with me.

Because I do have feelings for him. I do want to kiss him. Shit, I want more. I want to know if his fingers feel as good elsewhere as they did cupping my jaw. I just want Killian.

It’s been so long since I’ve wanted someone. Why does it have to be him?

I toss and turn, trying like hell to forget the taste of him, the all-consuming feel of him. But I can’t. My mind is whirring, my body is restless, like there’s a pressure building deep within me and, if I don’t do something about it, it’s going to explode. I eye my nightstand, my fingers twitching.

Fuck it. I already started digging my grave tonight; I might as well keep going.

The room suddenly feels too quiet as I slide open the drawer and feel in the dark until my hand closes around the tiny bullet vibrator I keep hidden.

I know that it’s wrong to lie back, close my eyes, and think of Killian. But if I can’t have him, and I sure as hell can’t have him, this will have to do.

14

Killian

Fuck.

I watch Scarlett run upstairs, reaching for her like I can somehow pull her back to me, tug her onto my lap, and pretend that whatever thought brought her crashing back down to reality never happened. Even when she’s out of sight, when I hear her bedroom door closing, I don’t drop my hand. I’m suspended in the moment, because I don’t want to deal with the reality check that’s coming as soon as I let myself think about this.

But as much as I’d like to, I can’t hold reality off forever.

I lean back against the couch, stare at the ceiling, and force myself to breathe. She kissed me. And I very much kissed her back. Fuck. Fuck.

A groan slips from me as I bury my head in my hands, squeezing my temples like I might be able to squeeze some goddamn sense into myself. What the hell was I thinking, kissing her like that? It’s like the second her lips touched mine, I lost any shred of the meager self-control I’ve been clinging to since I met her. I can’t lie to myself any longer: I want Scarlett. And not just because that was the best damn kiss I’ve had in thirty-three years. Every morning, I wake up excited to see her. I’m practically buzzing every time I load the kids up in the car to pick her up from work. Watching how much they love her, how much she loves them, has become my favorite thing in the world.

In less than two weeks, Scarlett, Caitlin, and James have become all-consuming. I don’t remember what occupied my thoughts before I came here. Nothing so important, that’s for sure.

This is the best day I’ve had in longer than I can remember. Spending time with the three of them, Scarlett’s parents, and Landon at the farm, and then just the four of us at home—because that’s already what this feels like—was perfect. The only thing missing was my family. My mom would love it here.

I branded every chocolate-covered smile, happy laugh, and sticky hug from the kids today in my mind, because, though I’m getting comfortable having these moments every day, it’s not a privilege I get to have forever.

And Scarlett.

Scarlett. God.

She’s not a privilege I get to have, period. Not like that. It would be a monumentally bad idea to fall for my dad’s ex-girlfriend. His mistress, for Christ’s sake. The mother of my two half-siblings, who’s been messed around by a Michaelson enough to last a lifetime. Scarlett doesn’t need me blurring any of the lines between us further.

But, then again … she kissed me. And maybe she was just caught up in the day, but it didn’t feel like that kind of kiss. It was desperate, and I felt her melt under my touch, like it was as much of a relief for her as it was for me. Until she bolted.