Page 104 of Keep Me

Regardless of what happens to us when that happens, I have to protect him. Which means I need to make sure he’s ready and able to leave it. I’ll figure theuspart out later.

For now, I need to get this man out of this house. And I’m running out of time to do it.

As he takes my hand in the entryway, I watch the way he swallows and hides his nerves from me.

“Ready?” I ask softly.

His eyes meet mine as he winks. “Ready.”

Hand in hand, we walk out to the car parked by the front door. The house staff helps us off, and Killian drives. But I watch his face as we leave the property line, and I watch it again as we leave the county line.

He seems at ease, far more than I expected. His hands are a little tight around the steering wheel, and the muscles of his jaw keep clicking, but overall, he seems fine. There’s a lazy smile on his face, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses as we travel down the long busy highways. I look over the passenger seat at my fake husband in those dark jeans and tight white T-shirt and realize just how used to him I’ve become.

If he truly opened himself up to it, he could get used to a regular life outside that house with me. We could go anywhere we want. Any city. Any country. That dream I had of taking my ten million and running off someplace where I owe nothing to no one could be a dream with Killian. That could beourdream.

I just need to make him understand he has so much more life outside of those walls. He reaches across the seat and puts an arm over my shoulder. Leaning toward him, I rest on the center console and place a kiss on his left cheek.

“Next time, I’ll take you to a warmer beach. You can’t go swimming in these waters. You’ll freeze your cute little nipples off,” he says as he reaches across and pinches the tip of my breast.

I let out a shriek as I jump backward. “I don’t care about that.I’m just excited to get out of the house for a while.”

His fingers squeeze tighter around the steering wheel, but I brush it off as nothing.

It’s only a short drive to the house we’ve rented for the next two nights. It’s a bed and breakfast that typically rents out at least six rooms, but Killian’s reserved them all for a bit of privacy. As we pull up to the old house, I smile at the quaint and stunning sight of it on this desolate coastline.

I jump out of the car and walk immediately toward the endless dark sand glistening in the sun. The wind is strong, blowing my hair wildly in the breeze, but as I stand just on the edge where the dunes meet the drive, I breathe in the fresh air.

It smells like freedom.

“I’ll get us checked in. Don’t go far,” he whispers, kissing me softly on the cheek.

“Okay,” I reply, watching him go up the three short steps to the front door of the house.

It’s been two months since we first spoke those harrowing words. The ones I tried so hard to deny and ignore. That day with my parents still replays in my mind over and over. It wasn’t just that he protected me or defended me. It was the fact that Killian carved out a space for me where there hadn’t been one before. Until him, I didn’t know what that felt like—to be a priority in someone’s life.

That night changed me in ways I don’t think he fully understands. It was about so much more than the submission or the paddle. It was the way he let me be me, without expectation or criticism. He took the ugliest parts of me and loved them right along with the beautiful ones. He let me scream and cry and held me afterward like I was the most important person in his life.

Iamthe most important person in his life.

And meanwhile I’ve been denying how much I cared for him. Why? Because of some stupid contract? Or ten million dollars?

Yes, the past two months have been heavy with anxietythinking about that looming deadline. And yes, I know I will have to come clean with him eventually about my part in the whole thing. But I have a plan, and that plan involves getting my husbandout of that house.

If I can do that, I can save everything. Him, us, our future.

He just has to learn to let it go.

“All checked in,” he says, landing a strike on my ass and making me jump. Then he slings an arm over my shoulder. Seeing him in such a chipper, relaxed mood settles me too.

So, with a smile, I turn toward him. “Hungry?”

“Fuckin’ starvin,” he grumbles, rubbing his stomach.

We take a walk together just down the road from the house toward the center of town, where the owners promised us one of the best pubs in Scotland. We sit across from each other at an old table near the window, and each order two ales and two orders of stovies and talk like regular people.

For the first time in our long and twisted relationship, we are just two regular people. A couple of newlyweds on a honeymoon. He even reaches across the table and twirls my wedding band around my finger while he finishes his beer. It’s a bit of a nervous habit for him, and I’ve caught him doing it before with his own ring.

I don’t think he’s actingtoomuch more nervous than regular. He’s always a little fidgety.

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