Killian Read online

  the way and that I stayed firmly pushed up against him when my feet touched the ground. I wasn't exactly about to protest, especially when I felt his hardness against me. "Carrying me upstairs got you all hot?"

  "Fuck yeah it did," Elias whispered into my ear, his mouth close to me. "Can't think of much else that would get me more worked up than getting to go all caveman on a girl like you."

  I didn't move, reveling in the feeling of him so close to me. "A girl like me?"

  "Yeah," he said. "In case you weren't aware, you're hot shit."

  I laughed. "You have a way with words."

  He pulled away from me, just a bit, and smirked. "I'm better with my mouth," he said.

  I felt a flush of arousal at his words. "God, you're filthy."

  He winked. "You have no idea," he said.

  I shook my head.

  "What?" he asked, his hands on my arms.

  "I don't know what to think about you," I said.

  "I'm a fucking enigma."

  I laughed. "That's a big word for a .... I don't even know what you do."

  A dark look crossed his face briefly, quickly erased by his joking manner again. "Do you need to know?"

  "It would be nice to know who I'm sleeping with," I admitted.

  He had inched closer to me, or I'd moved closer to him, I'm not sure which. But I was so close that if I arched up on my tip-toes just a little bit more, I'd be able to reach his lips. I was watching them move as he talked, unable to think of much else other than that I wanted them on me.

  "Sleeping isn't something I had in mind," Elias said.

  "Oh?" I asked. "What did you have in mind?"

  "I'm going to ruin you for other men, River Andrews," he said. "That's a fucking promise."

  I felt a thrill rush through me at his words, my face flushing warm under his gaze.

  Elias lifted the edge of my t-shirt up, played with it for a moment, like he was trying to make a decision. Then he pulled the fabric up over my head, his gaze taking me in. He drew me against him, his fingers running lightly up the length of my back, and I felt him inhale deeply, his chest rising.

  I didn't know what the hell to think about this guy. He was definitely not like the guys I was used to in Hollywood, with their hair products and eyeliner and bullshit sensitivity. Elias was bossy, mouthy, and just plain dirty.

  But I felt myself relaxing into him as his arms enveloped me.

  He was silent for a minute, before he slid his fingers under my chin and tilted my head up to meet him. He pressed his lips against mine, harder as I responded to his kiss. He probed my mouth with his tongue, practically fucking me, and desire rushed through my body as his tongue found mine, and I kissed him back, hungry for him, hungry for his touch. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him inside of me.

  I reached under his t-shirt and he pushed my hands away. "What?" I asked.

  "It's not-" he paused. "It's not...pretty. Just as a warning."

  "What isn't?" I was confused for a minute, my head clouded with lust. I slid his t-shirt up farther, my hands running over the surface of his chest, and he shook his head as he pulled it the rest of the way off.

  "I told you," he said, standing perfectly still, as if he were afraid I would run away, screaming in horror.

  I traced my fingers over the maze of scars that crisscrossed his chest and shoulders, the skin rippled, his tattoos disjointed as if they were modern art paintings or something, not quite pieced together where the scars disrupted them. I looked up at him.

  "Shrapnel," he said. "From the explosion. Skin grafts cause of the burns."

  "That's how you lost your leg?"

  Elias nodded, not speaking.

  I kissed his chest where the scars were, ran my palms over the ridges on his skin. His eyes were on me, I could feel it, and when I looked up at him, he had a strange expression on his face, pleasure accompanied by pain, I thought. "I told you it wasn't pretty."

  "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who tries to be pretty anyhow," I said.

  A slow smile crept over Elias' face. "You're fucking all right, River Andrews," he said. "For an actress." He ran his finger down the side of my face, and I turned my face into the warmth of his palm.

  "It's Gilstead." I blurted it out. Why did I just say that?

  "What is?"

  "My name. It's not Andrews. It's Gilstead." I don't know why I felt like I needed to tell him.

  Elias nodded. "River Gilstead," he said. "Okay." He ran his palm over my hair, then down to the nape of my neck.

  "I thought you should know my real name since I'm going to be sleeping with you," I said. I was babbling, nervous as hell. It came out awkward-sounding. I felt so incredibly self-conscious.

  He threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of my neck, gripping it tightly and pulling back, angling my face toward his. I felt my breath catch in my throat. His other hand traveled down the waistband of my pants and he cupped my ass cheek in his hand, pulling me against his hardness. "I already told you," he said. "We're not going to be doing any fucking sleeping. Once I get my cock in you, you're not getting any rest."

  He slid his hand around the front of my hips, down between my legs. "No panties," he said.

  I bit my lip and shook my head. "Need to go shopping."

  He let out a sound under his breath that sounded like a low growl, and touched his fingers to my clit. I arched toward him, wanting his lips on mine, wanting all of him. I hadn't been touched in so long.

  "Oh my God," I whispered. His hand was still at the base of my neck, gripping my hair tightly as he held my head in place, ensuring that I didn't break eye contact with him. The way he watched me while he touched me, his gaze intense as his fingers rolled over my clit, made me want to come immediately. "I want you inside me."

  "You want me to fuck you?" he said, fingers dancing over my clit.

  I moaned. "Do I have to beg?"

  He stepped away from me, started unbuttoning his pants, and grinned. "You're definitely going to beg."

  "You're cocky," I said. But the throbbing between my legs only intensified. I was close to begging now. I paused. "I don't have condoms."

  He didn't answer.

  "Do you?" I asked.

  He gave me a look. "I wasn't planning on coming here," he said. "I'm clean. We don't really need them."

  "I'm not on the pill." I felt stupid, saying it, and I gave him a sheepish look. "I stopped taking it...I'm not on anything." How did I explain, I didn't need it because my fiancé was no longer fucking me? It was embarrassing.

  He didn't move, just stood there, looking at me. Then he nodded, and stepped back toward me, his fingers back where they were before, stroking me. I felt a rush of desire flood my body. "Okay, then," he whispered. "No fucking. Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow's another story." He stroked me with his fingers, his movements slow and languid. "In fact," he said. "Maybe I'll just take my time with you."

  My thoughts were clouded with lust. Elias taking his time with me was the last thing I wanted to hear. I ached to feel him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me, hard and fast, my legs wrapped around him, up against a wall in the room. I wanted to scream, bury my face in his shoulder, dig my nails into his back as I came.

  What he was doing now with his hand was amazing...and agonizing.

  "Elias," I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say except his name. I pictured myself calling it out as he thrust himself inside me.

  He pulled his fingers from between my legs, and I heard myself groan. Elias reached behind me, unhooked my bra, and slid the straps down my arms. "Oh, hell," he said, his eyes on my breasts.

  "What?" I asked, my breath short. I reached for the waistband of his pants, unbuttoned his jeans, began to slide them from his body, when he grabbed my hands.

  "You're fucking gorgeous." Elias held my wrists against the sides of his hips. I knew he was hard; I wanted to lean into him, to press myself against his hardness. "I want to taste you. I want to explore every