Page 30 of Falling for a Killer

I’ll be a good girl like I promised. I think he earned it.

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Breakfast is another intimate affair I wasn’t quite prepared for. Soft touches and warm smiles lead to hips bumping in the kitchen as we clean up. Finally, I turn to him with a smile I can’t quite hide. “What do you think you’re doing exactly?”

Killian raises an eyebrow at me playfully. “Staying close to what’s mine. What do you think you’re doing?”

Something about that makes my thighs clench and my brain turn to mush. I stand there, slackjawed, unable to say anything at all.

“Is physical touch not your thing? Because you’ve been giving off ‘touch me’ vibes and I’m just trying to accommodate,” he teases, snapping me out of it.

“It never used to be,” I admit. “But with you? Maybe.”

“Mmhm,” he hums, moving behind me to tug on my hair, and when my mouth opens to yell at him, he seals his lips to mine.

Butterflies explode in my chest, scaring the shit out of me, and they don’t dissipate until he finally lets me up to breathe.

I know my cheeks are flushed when I turn to face him again. “You’re trouble. You know that?”

“What gave it away? Surely not breaking in this place and making myself at home.”

“No, not that at all,” I deadpan.

Laughing, he slaps my ass hard enough to make me gasp and then turns away. “Want to work out with me? I’ve been slacking, and you feed me too good.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “Unless that’s a euphemism, I’ll pass. I’ll gladly watch you, though.”

“Guess we had a good workout yesterday, huh?” He tosses me a wink and lays down on the ground, waving me over. “Come lay on my hands and I’ll bench press you.”

There’s no way. He’s strong, for sure, but I’m not exactly a pixie. There’s a difference between pinning me down and bench pressing me. “You want to embarrass yourself, huh?” I tease, walking over to call his bluff. “Weird, but okay.”

“You might be surprised. We’ll see if I embarrass myself or your pussy gets wet.”

He holds out his arms, and while I hesitate a moment, laying over them feels weirdly natural. “Like this?”

“Yeah. I know it’s difficult, but try not to squirm.”

The first time he lowers me, I squeal, but manage not to move a muscle. It still makes my stomach do somersaults and my heart skip a beat.

There’s no way he’ll lift me up as smoothly, yet I’m back in the air before I can exhale.

Holy shit, he’s strong. And more than that, he’s got control.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, his voice deep as hell and traveling straight to my pussy. I hate when men are right. “You’re exactly what I needed.”

I’m wet, flattered, and scared all at once. The constant ups and downs are enough to make me nauseous, yet I don’t want him to stop. “Am I? What’re the odds?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, doing one last rep he holds down longer than the last and then he sets me on his torso. “What are the odds you’d decide to crash my hideaway?”

Suddenly he’s tickling me, sending laughter and white hot rage slamming through me. I jerk hard, trying to roll off of him. “S-Stop!” I gasp, elbowing him in the gut as I attempt to move away. “F-Fuck you, stop it!”

Threats don’t sound legitimate when they’re made through peals of laughter, but I do mean it. People who say they like being tickled are fucking liars.

“Damn, girl. That actually hurt.”

He holds his side as he coughs out a laugh, giving me enough space to get free. Panting, I flip him off with a pretty little chipped French tip and a sarcastic smile. “I don’t advise tickling me. I know where you hide your gun.”

“You do?” Reaching out, he grips my ankle and tugs me in close, moving so he’s hovering over me. “Maybe I should tie you up then.”

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