Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  I barely catch my breath, my pussy throbbing so hard that I want to collapse in a heap on the floor, but Killian's hands are there, lifting me away from him. His beard glistens with my wetness, and the look he gives me is total lust.

  "I needed that." His voice is rough and ragged.

  "You needed that?" I laugh, suddenly giddy and light.

  "Damn straight." He sits up, sliding me down to his lap where his hardness is readily apparent. Hardness isn't the word for it his cock feels like a damn rod underneath his jeans.

  I lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, grinding my pussy against his cock, and he takes a handful of hair at the nape of my neck, holding my head close and kissing me hard. When his tongue finds mine, I can feel his cock twitch against me and heat rushes between my legs again.

  Then he tears his lips from mine. "Opal will be wondering where you are."

  "Probably not," I say wryly, thinking of Opal's interest in pushing the two of us together.

  His hands on my waist, he lifts me up before I can object, then pulls me to my feet, smacking my ass lightly.

  "Killian, I "

  I want your cock inside me right now.

  I don't say that. I can't imagine saying that. I have no trouble telling him off when I have clothes on, yet I can't seem to demand that he fuck me.

  "I already told you," he says, his eyes on mine. "Not today."

  He hands me my clothes, telling me with a wry smile that he's not sorry at all for ripping my panties. As I slip my t-shirt over my head, I'm fully aware of his eyes on me as he leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. His cock is still hard. That can't be normal. The guy must have crazy self-control. "You must have really wanted your job back," I tease.

  "So you're hiring me again?"

  "Not a chance."

  A smile plays at the corners of his lips. "I wouldn't have expected anything else."

  The vibration of my cell phone cuts through the space between us, and I reach around Killian to grab it off the counter. "It's Opal," I explain. "She's heading back here with Chloe. They're finished with their tea party."

  I stand there silently and awkwardly for a minute, a million thoughts running through my head now that the headiness of my orgasm no longer distracts me.

  What the hell am I doing with Killian? And what the hell was I just doing, kneeling on the hardwood floor in my kitchen over his face?

  I can't believe I lost control like that. I don't throw caution to the wind. I'm not that person. Buying the bakery was the first time I ever did something even slightly crazy. It was the first time I jumped headlong into anything without thinking.

  And suddenly I'm straddling the face of a guy who's clearly not the kind of person I should be involved with. That's not even jumping headlong into something; that's freefalling straight off a cliff.

  The jingle of the bell on the front door jerks me out of my thoughts and I know it's Opal and Chloe. Killian winks at me before he turns around. "See you later, cupcake."

  He's out the kitchen door without a moment's hesitation, and I follow him to the front.

  "Mommy!" Chloe bounds into the bakery, trailed by Opal. "Mommy, we had a tea party and Miss Opal let me have soda!"

  "Sparkling water," Opal corrects.

  "And she put raspberries in the glass and it was a fancy glass and she let me wear her Easter hat with the feathers on it!"

  "Leaving?" Opal asks Killian as he heads toward the door.

  "I got what I came for," Killian says, his eyes meeting mine again before he leaves. Heat rushes to my face at his words.

  Opal's gaze meets mine and she raises her eyebrows. "Don't even say anything," I advise.

  "I didn't say a word, honey."

  "I know what you're thinking." I narrow my eyes at her.

  "What is she thinking?" Chloe pipes up.

  "She's thinking… about how I should be making you pizza for dinner tonight."

  Opal snorts. "That's exactly right, doll. Looks like your mother already got her slice."

  19

  Killian

  Obviously the first thing I did when I got home yesterday was jerk off. And jerk off again. That woman has me wrapped around the axle. I could have fucked her yesterday right up against the wall, or sitting on the counter the way I fantasize when I have my hand wrapped around my cock.

  But no, I had to get all sensitive to her feelings and shit. What the hell is wrong with me? Sensitive isn't anywhere in my vocabulary, yet this woman seems to stir up something in me that makes me want to do right by her.

  I saw the hesitation in her eyes yesterday when it came to sex. Dead husband, a kid… I'm stepping right into a situation that's too damn complicated.

  What I should do is back the fuck up. Sure, yesterday was fun – okay, it was more than just fun. Having her on my face was perfect.

  I can still taste her on my lips.

  I want more.

  I want her riding me, her hair falling in my face, those blue-grey eyes trained on mine. I want her bent over, gripping her ass cheeks as she looks over her shoulder at me.

  Hell, I just want her.

  And that's why I'm sitting here at the bakery. That and the damned iced coffee she makes.

  "Give me a hand with these customers, will you, sugar?" Opal asks in the way that only Opal can do, a polite request that's really an order.

  I jump in to box up pastries while Opal makes casual chitchat with the customers in line.

  "I'm glad to see you're back," one of the older ladies says as I box her up three muffins and a dozen cupcakes. "The cupcakes are for my ladies’ card group," she explains.

  "We'll see if I'm back," I grumble.

  "What you boys did to help Letty with the mining company," Opal says in a hushed tone when there's a lull in traffic in the bakery, "that made you good in my books."

  I grunt. "That was my brothers," I note. "Who's Letty?"

  "An old friend," Opal says. "She's over at the nursing home – excuse me, retirement community. That company was trying to get her property for a song. Now she's got nothing to worry about."

  I nod, even though it was really all my brothers' doing, because Opal seems like she's going somewhere with all of this.

  "I knew your mother, you know."

  And just like that, my mood goes sour. I don't want to talk about my damn parents. "Everybody knows everybody here."

  "When you were a kid, you and I had a run-in," Opal recalls.

  "What?" I don't remember ever meeting Opal.

  "You were a teenager, not really a kid, I guess," she elaborates. "My neighbor's son was Joe Martin."

  I stare at her blankly. I don't know what the hell she's talking about, or what the hell the point of this conversation is. "I've been away from West Bend a long time."

  "That's right. You might not remember him. It was probably nothing to you, but Joe was a good kid – ended up going off to college and studying aerospace something-or-other. I don't know what it is exactly, but his mother says he's a rocket scientist."

  "Huh."

  "I do have a point, sugar," Opal promises. "He was bullied a lot back in school – this would have been ninth grade or so, I think – and I walked out my door to see a fight between him and three other guys."

  I remember this – two asshole juniors were giving this nerdy kid hell – and I was walking by and jumped in. I didn’t know the kid, but if there's one thing I've never been able to stand, it's a bully. We got pushed around enough by my father when we were growing up. I was beating on the two guys who jumped him when this woman ran out of her house, brandishing a baseball bat and yelling at us to leave him alone. I took off when they scattered. The last thing I needed was word getting back to my father that I was in a brawl; I knew what kind of hell I'd pay.

  "I ran you off, but Joe told me it was you who jumped in to save him."

  "That's a long time ago, Opal," I say with a shrug. Why in the world is she dredging up old memories