Page 57 of Keep Me

“Why am I such a brat? Because I made you worry? That’s not my fault, Killian! It’s yours. I never told you to care about me.”

I spin around, knowing full well what he’ll do next. That familiar large hand wraps around my arm, hauling me back toward him. My hands go to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, I tighten my fists in his shirt.

We are chest to chest. I’m staring into his eyes blazing with fury as one of his hands grabs the back of my neck and brings my face close enough to brush our lips together.

“You make me so angry,” he mutters.

I manage one desperate gasp before his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss isn’t anything like our last two kisses. Those were performances. This is real.

Our tongues collide in a needy tangle of desire. He bites onmy bottom lip, and I scratch his arm through the flannel of his shirt. The grip on the back of my neck tightens as he pulls me even closer, devouring my mouth and making me forget why I shouldn’t be doing this.

I try to tell myself I don’t like Killian. Ihatehim. But the argument is so weak. It fades away on a breeze in my mind while my body seems to be caught in a storm of passion.

Without breaking the kiss, he lays me on the steps and moves his mouth from my lips down to my jaw. I let out another gasp as the rough texture of his beard scratches my neck. His kisses are brutal, much like his attitude toward me.

He’s not afraid of breaking me. He knows I can take it.

In a frenzy, he works off my coat and scarf. My fingers dig into his hair, dragging him closer as my legs part, allowing him space to settle between them.

The size difference between us is even more alarming in this position. My thighs are pressed as wide as they go while he grinds himself against me, and I let out a needy yelp.

I drag his mouth back up to mine and kiss him even harder. I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel. I want to douse this fire that’s been burning for so long.

He lifts himself from my body and moves his hands to the button of my jeans. Those large fingers work the zipper down, and I lift my hips, eager to shed my clothes. As soon as I feel the cool wood of the stairs on my ass, I shiver in anticipation. This is all moving way too fast. But I don’t want to stop it.

My pants don’t go far. They barely reach my knees before Killian moves downward and latches his mouth around my sex. I grab his hair again and let out a squeal of surprise. My arousal intensifies, exploding inside me as soon as I feel his warm mouth on my clit.

But this angle is too difficult, and I can’t spread my legs for him, so he sits back up and starts tearing at my boots as if he’s overcome with the need to get between my legs.

I pull at his shirt, and he takes a break from untying my lacesto tear the long-sleeved flannel off. Touching his bare chest and shoulders with my hands is intoxicating. With every graze of his skin, I need more.

He finally works my boots off. Then he strips my pants off in one violent motion.

And then that’s it. Just like that, I’m lying naked from the waist down on the stairs, spread bare for him like a meal on the table. It’s unnerving and a little scary.

But my body is drunk on lust, so I reach for him. Without a second of hesitation, he drops to his knees a few steps below me and buries his face between my legs. Wrapping one arm around my thigh, he loudly devours me, sucking and licking every sensitive inch.

The other arm reaches up to my breast, tugging my shirt open enough to pinch the tight bud of my nipple. I suck in through my teeth, thrown off by the sensation.

My spine arches, and my lungs desperately try to suck in air, but it’s useless. I’m helpless against him. I clench my fingers around the steps, and I close my eyes as I let him take my body.

I want to scream his name. I want to beg him not to stop. I want to look into his eyes as he pushes his tongue inside me, but I don’t do any of it. Killian has his mouth in the most private, intimate part of me, and I’m not ready to face what this means.

I just want to come. I want to take the orgasm he gives me. And I want him to feel how much I love it.

Before I fly over the edge of pleasure, I grab the hand that’s cupped around my breast, and I pull it to my mouth. I’m so caught up in the passion that I don’t even know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. I love the way his fingers feel in mine as I wrap my lips around the middle digit. Softly I suck and lick, mirroring his actions between my legs.

My climax builds so quickly that I barely have a chance to prepare myself. On a quick inhale, my body explodes in pleasure, and I bite down on his finger, hearing him howl against my sex. Ionly have enough air left in my lungs to groan out a feral sound of pleasure.

He tears his hand from my mouth, moving it to my throat and holding me there as I’m assaulted by wave after wave of sensation. I see stars as my body is rolled through the climax. Over and over and over again. It pulses through me for an impossibly long time until it feels like I can’t take it anymore.

I collapse on the stairs when it finally ceases. He pulls his mouth away, and I can hear him gasping.

We both seem to surrender to the moment together. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves.

After a while, I slowly sit up. He’s facing away from me, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging forward. My clothes are strewn over the stairs in a mess.

Part of me wants to reach for him, but that fear of facing the truth resurfaces, and I hold myself back. Instead, I quickly gather my things and quietly, without a word, tiptoe up to my room and shut the door.

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