Page 69 of Killian

He slides into bed, kissing my shoulder. “What if it’s a woman?”

I roll my eyes. “It could be, but I doubt it. Why would she want to rob the Irish mafia?”

“Why would anyone?”

I huff. “Fine. We haven’t found this person yet. Does that make you feel better?”

He cups my face, pulling it to meet his own.

“You will find them. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Before I can respond, his lips meet mine.

I’m used to rough, passionate Killian. The Killian kissing me right now is neither. The kiss is tender, making my stomach feel as if I’ve just jumped out of a plane. The fluttering feeling of both excitement and dread mixing to make a dangerous combination.

He pulls back slightly, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasps, lightly touching my nose with his.

My emotions are in turmoil at the moment. I can’t think straight. I know what this means. He’s showing me he wants this to be more. More than what it is, but I can’t do that.

Shutting my laptop, I turn toward him.

“Thank you.” I press my lips harder against his, my hand going to his shirt to unbutton it.

He grabs my hand, pulling back.

“Greer, we need to talk.”

“No. Talking is overrated.”

I lean in again to kiss him, but he stands, leaving me in the bed.

He growls, “You have been avoiding this conversation ever since Chicago. Why are you so afraid?”

“Why are you hell-bent on hashing it out? There is no point in talking about something that is irrelevant. You want to keep talking about a fantasy that will never happen. I prefer to live in the real world,” I snap.

“If you were living in the real world, you could admit to yourself that the future you are clinging so desperately to is the fantasy. You want to believe that you will leave this life behind. Go out and be on your own. What you don’t realize is that you cannot keep living one foot in and one foot out. If you decide to leave this life, you will leave everything and everyone you love behind. That sounds awfully lonely,” he says sarcastically.

“I’ll come back and visit Bash and the kids. I will make new friends and have a new life.” I toss my hands up.

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Bash will never let you straddle the line. You’ll either be in or out. He will demand you make a choice. As for these fictional new friends, how can you get close to anyone if you cannot share your life with them? You’ll always be lying to them, never able to tell them the truth. Fuck, Greer, you’ll have to change your fucking name.”

“Don’t attack my plans because you decided that this was more than it was. We’ve both known the score since the beginning. Don’t get mad at me for staying the course.” I point my finger at him as I pace.

“If I truly, honestly believed you would be happier living a life without me, I would gladly let you go. I think you’re resisting because you’re afraid that it might actually work. That you might have found something that you want more than your independence. We’re the same, you and I. You deny that you want this life, but you're drawn to it. Admit it.” His eyes flare.

I feel my hands shaking as I cross my arms. “Fine, yes, I’m drawn to this life!” I say in a shaky voice. “I’m drawn to the darkness. I know that there is a possibility Bash would allow me to be with you. That we could have this fairy tale ending you imagined in your brain. I know that, but it’s not what I want. I don’t want to be the Irishman’s wife. The woman meant to stay at home and raise the babies while you are out there getting your hands dirty for a family who will always come before me. I won’t be my mother. I won’t be second to anyone or anything. That’s why I can’t be with you. It has nothing to do with Bash or even me. It has everything to do with you and who you are,” I say frantically.

“A ghrá.” His voice is pleading as he approaches.

“No,” I say, making him freeze. “You don’t get to do this to me. Not again. I told you when you left Italy that you getting on the plane would end this. I told you again in Ireland. Then you concocted some crazy plan to get me to the States, all so you could take another taste. Well, newsflash. I’m not a toy for you to jerk around and place wherever you please. I’m done. This” —I gesture between us— “is done. I’m going back to my hotel room where I will continue to work until I crack this code, but once I’m done,” I sob. “You have to let me go. Please.”

“If that’s what you wish,” he says roughly, sounding resigned.

“It is.” I lick my lips, trying to sound confident.

Killian turns away from me, body taut with anger, frustration, hurt.

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