Page 8 of Hot For Her Ex-Con

CHAPTER 5

Killian

Imeant what I said about liars, and I’ll never tell Allison a lie. Not even if it’s a truth she can’t understand.

But if she knows how it feels?

To have the face of someone you hate front and center of your mind for eight years, every second of the day. And that the only thing that keeps you going is knowing that soon, one day real soon, you’ll finally be able to make all of it stop.

I guess that’s what I should be explaining, but I figure the fewer details she knows, the safer she’ll be.

That and I’ve never been much of a conversationalist.

“Once I’m done,” I tell her, “we can grab a bite to eat if you want? It shouldn’t be too late.”

She disappoints me a little with her reaction, but I guess it’s to be expected. If I don’t tell her, I’m a dishonest man. If I do tell her, which I have, I’m kinda putting a wet blanket over what I know is going to be one very special night for both of us.

“What do you mean killsomeone? Are you kidding me?”

I’m already giving her my best not-kidding face.

The last of the freight train carriages rattle past, and I turn myself in my seat to face her better. She looks more confused than scared, though. The last thing I want is to frighten her.

“Killian. There was no guy, remember? I was covering for you with Mom because…”

I feel my eyes narrow, shooting her an intense stare, wanting to hear her say it. To tell me how it made her feel to see me worshiping those panties of hers. Priming myself for the real thing.

The thing between us… we’d be fools to ignore a second longer.

“I mean, whatever you were doing in my room… Did you break the door down? Don’t you have a key?” She’s hyperventilating, but it’s not fear or anxiety taking her over. It’s something else.

“Kiss me again.” My command shocks her, and she makes every effort to get mad. Losing her grip on her true feelings, her real need taking over, but not without a little more fight from her conscience.

“Look, mister. I don't know who the fuck you think?—”

In a second, her mouth’s over mine. She’s kissing me all right, like a good girl. It’s a violent, angry kiss. A kiss born of her frustration, and with a final little growl of annoyance from her, her hands batting against my chest.

I kiss her back, knowing it’ll explain everything.

She’s cute when she’s mad, but once our lips lock and I feel the warmth of her body against mine, I know I’ve done at least one thing right so far.

She could’ve screamed and scratched my eyes out, but I know Allison. Better than she thinks. A man learns an awful lot about a woman having her panties pressed against his face for hours at a time.

Allison’s fire, her bodily heat. Her helplessness. It’s just how I imagined her to be. She’s… she’s perfect.

Enough to stop me from killing Trap?

At least for the next few hours, if this kiss is anything to go by.

Once we do come up for air, it feels like we’ve explained a thousand things without a single word between us, but she needs to understand something.

She flushes awkwardly, but I keep her close to me, lifting her chin with my finger so I can tell her properly.

“I used to think my cell was home. Every time being out got to me, I'd wish I was back there again. But staying at your mom’s, sleeping in your bed… You, Allison. You're home to me now.”

Her features soften, and she sniffs back a glassy tear.

“But Killian, we… I mean, I don't even know you…”

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