Page 19 of Captivating

He wraps his rough, calloused hand around my ankle, and instead of me pushing him away, he drags me closer.

Damn it.

“Your brother is worried. Your family. Your friends. Your label. Everyone is worried about you. Everyone but you. Do you hear how selfish that sounds, Lilah? Do you?”

I yank my foot away, and anger and humiliation skitter over my skin. “Fuck you, Killian. You didn’t care then, and you don’t get to care now.”

“I never stopped caring, princess. Believe it or not.” His stupid lips tug up on one side, and he drops his hold. “Noah and Maddox both think you need a new level of security, and according to them, so do your parents.”

“Oh my God,” I yell. “Why the hell do you care? Jesus, I hate you.”

When I shove him away this time, he lets me, and I hop down from the counter, desperate for space. But of course, that’s notKillian’s way. He immediately crowds me against the counter, refusing to let me escape. “Yeah well, you used to love me. I hope your acting is still top-notch. Because we have a plan, and it’s going to require you to fake it till you make it, princess.”

“I swear to God, if someone in the house doesn’t start making sense tonight, I’m going to kick everyone’s asses,” I yell and smack his chest, his big, broad, solid chest that just absorbs my hit without a single move. I used to love falling asleep on that chest.

Stupid fucking muscles.

Stupid fucking man.

“I’d like to see you try.” He brings his face down to my level, and his breath smells like a mix of mint and bourbon. He smells delicious. That’s it. God hates me. I must have tortured kittens in a past life or something. Because there is no other reason this man should look this good this close.

“Just spit it out so you can go the hell home, St. James. I’m tired.” Not a lie.

Killian wraps two strong arms around me, and for a second, I drop my forehead to his chest. This was us. The old us. The comfortable us.

I think I must be losing my ever-loving mind. Because I swear this man—the one I’m still considering kneeing in the balls—sniffs me. He inhales, and his whole body loosens. Relaxes. And mine wants to do the same. But there’s no way I’m missing my chance.

I slide under his arm and dart across the kitchen, then spin on my heels, because there’s no way in hell I’m giving this man my back. “You done yet?”

His responding smile is slow and wicked and so damn sexy, I’m pretty sure my panties get damp and my knees get week.

Fuck my life.

“You need a bodyguard, princess. One you’ll let inside your home. One who can stick close. One who can make the whole world think you’re taken.” Then the bastard lifts a brow, and a dimple pops deep in his stupid cheek. Just one dimple. Because when God gave this man anything, he gave with both freaking hands. “One who doesn’t have to rely on a gun to do it. And who can make a man shit his pants just by his reputation alone.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’m not even yelling now. Nope. I’m screaming. Like a banshee, my mother would say. A crazy, wild, fucking banshee. “Get out.”

I march back to the front door and thank the stars above that his big black boots make even bigger, louder noises as he follows me. “You do not get to tell me what I need. And you certainly don’t get to be the answer to anything I may want or not want. I’m the only one who makes decisions about my life. I’m not that sixteen-year-old girl begging you for anything, Killian, and I haven’t been for a long time. Now. Get. Out.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of a hunter-green wool coat that looks unfortunately good on him, and damn, if his ridiculously cocky smile doesn’t double in size. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

I watch in shock as he finally walks through my door and of course manages to get a foot in the way when I attempt to slam it in his ugly—how I wish it was ugly—face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lilah.”

“In your dreams, Killian.” He moves his foot and pulls the door closed behind me, robbing me of the chance to slam it. And as my blood absolutely boils, his voice echoes through the door.

“Lock up, Lilah.”

Ahhhh . . .

I throw the deadbolt and set the alarm, then throw my head back against the wall and close my eyes.

“Good girl,” comes through the damn door, and I want to curse him out all over again, but that would mean admitting I was still here and heard him in the first place. “’Night, princess.”

I slide down the wall to my ass and almost silently whisper back, “’Night, champ.”

LILAH

---