Page 28 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
Killian’s fingertips slowly graze the waistband of my sweatpants, but he keeps his eyes locked on mine, never once looking down—giving me that little bit of privacy, even if he’s seen me more naked than this thousands of times.
The last time he undressed me, it was fast and frantic, and he had me bent over the back of the couch, pounding into me without reservation or restraint within sixty seconds of us walking through that door.
This man is different.
Whatever happened between us has left him unsure—something Killian McBride has never been a day in his life.
He draws in a slow breath, as if it’s a struggle for him to suck in air with the tension permeating it, and it reminds me that I’ve been holding mine. I follow his lead, inhaling long, slow, and deliberate breaths, which only succeeds in making my ribs ache even more.
There is no way I would have been able to get out of these clothes and into that inviting hot water without excruciating pain if I had attempted it on my own.
Killian always knew what I needed and gave it to me.
And it seems that hasn’t changed.
But it did.
Because I left him…
Yet, he’s still here. Doing this. For me.
After sleeping at my bedside all night in an uncomfortable plastic hospital chair, refusing to move to the more comfortable one in the corner. Wanting to be near in case I woke and needed him.
He slips around my side, running his rough palm across my stomach and hip. His warm breath flutters the hair on my neck as he settles behind me. “Can you do your bra and panties yourself?”
I try to reach back for the clasp that one of the lovely nurses assisted me with before we left the hospital, but that simple movement tugs at my damaged ribs, making me hiss.
Killian’s hand quickly wraps around my wrist, holding my arm steady, preventing me from trying further. “I’ll get it.”
My breath catches at the gentleness with which he holds me for a second too long before releasing my wrist and unclasping the bra.
I let it slide from my arms and onto the bathroom floor.
His hands shift back to my waist, fingers tenderly caressing the bruises and marred skin around the waistband of my sweatpants and underwear. “Reaching and bending down to get these off would be agony…”
So is this.
I’ve never mastered the way my body responds to Killian, but today, it seems even more out of control. As if every fiber of my being knows I haven’t experienced it in a year and craves his touch the way my lungs do oxygen.
A shiver races along my spine, and Killian slides his fingers under the elastic waistband of my pants, along with the thin fabric of the underwear beneath, and draws them down my legs, his warm breath floating over my bare skin.
Goosebumps pebble.
My knees tremble.
He urges me to step free, then tosses the sweats and panties onto the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving me completely and utterly exposed.
Killian stays at my back, but I don’t miss the way his breath hitches.
Only when I glance up at the mirror and meet his gaze in the reflection, it isn’t purely the normal heat there when he looks at me. All I see is anger clouding his eyes, making the normally bright blue darken like a wild sea. Conflict rages there, churning violently as he holds me steady with his arm around me and with his gaze.
A moment passes.
Another.
Until he finally slides his arm free and grips my elbow, urging me toward the tub filled with bubbles about to overflow—exactly how I like it.
With Killian to lean on, I manage to swing one leg over the edge and then the other. I sink into the hot water with a satisfied groan as Killian releases his grip on my arm. Instead of backing away and slipping out of the bathroom, he slowly lowers himself to his knees at the head of the tub.
