19. Hector

CHAPTER NINETEEN

HECTOR

H e didn't pull away.

I kissed him—a fool's mission, to be sure. Each time I tried to get closer to him, he had pushed me back, created distance.

Only, this time, his mouth opened beneath mine. I pressed onto the balls of my feet to get closer to him. He was taller, but with his back against the wall, it didn't matter.

His arms slipped around my waist and?—

Instead of dragging me away from him, his fingers pressed hard into the small of my back. Those same fingers had held huge boughs of wood so steady while I worked. The arms around me had been there when I needed help.

"Proposition," I gasped against his lips.

"What?"

"I have a proposition, if you'd hear it." When words took up the space between us, I dragged my lips across his jaw. That was how I felt him nod.

"I won't ask you for more than you can give, won't press," I promised, voice strained with need. "But all that you do to me, I must be able to reciprocate." I dropped back onto my heels to meet his eye. I didn't want to watch resignation cross his striking features as he once again told me why it was impossible, but he had to see I was serious. There was room for us to compromise still. "I want to stand before you as an equal, a man, not a chore or someone to tend."

He frowned. "Hector, you have never been?—"

"Please," I whispered. "I know you mean to keep me safe but—Killian, please."

Roughly, he swallowed. "All right."

"Fuck," I hissed, pressing into another kiss and running my hands up his chest. He was warm, even through his clothes, his body firm with muscle I wanted to squeeze and learn the shape of.

I let my hands roam everywhere as we kissed. He allowed it, his fingers tracing up my spine until I shuddered against him.

"I need—" A lump in my throat silenced me. Was this the same as pressing for more? Was I asking too much of him?

This was the first time I'd gotten to put my hands on him. I finally had him close, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin my chance before I'd even taken it.

The tilt of Killian's lips went sly.

"What do you need?"

While he held my gaze, I could've answered. It might've made my skin crawl and heat rush through me, but I could've asked and Killian would've listened.

In the end, it wasn't necessary.

Holding my eyes, he reached for the waist of my trousers and tugged me forward. My hips pressed his and— oh, I felt the length of his cock pressed against my lower stomach. Our kiss had seared through me, and I might've hoped for more, but I was still not convinced I'd get it.

I remained unconvinced, even as he loosened the buttons at my hips and his hand slipped beneath my clothes.

His rough callused palm dragged across my skin, down the shaft of my hardening cock before curling around it. "This?"

My lips parted. His stroke was sure and steady from the very first.

With a gasp, I nodded.

That. That, precisely.

Frantic and fumbling, I tugged at the ties of his trousers to get inside them. This arrangement had to be reciprocal, I'd said, but even still, I'd expected him to pull away, to tell me no. Fear and pleasure both made my movements harried, but when I touched his skin, the warm silk steel of his cock, Killian groaned. He thrust forward, into my touch, and a soaring tingle played at the nape of my neck.

I had him. His cock was in my hand, heavy and hard, and I wasn't alone in all this yearning. He wasn't holding me apart like I didn't belong.

No, he stroked me fast and quick, and I whimpered.

Too loud , I thought, even before Killian's free hand covered my mouth. He glanced toward door out onto the wall, but after a moment, was satisfied we were safe.

I softened my mouth to suck on the outside edge of his palm. It was just as rough as the rest of him, but wonderfully meaty beneath my tongue. When I nipped him with my teeth, Killian's eyes darkened until his irises were just a silver sliver around the very edge.

I had him trapped against the wall, could've easily pulled back. Instead, I pressed into his hand. His fingers pressed hard into my cheek, his thumb beneath my jaw to hold me there.

Just like that, with him covering my mouth, me thrusting into his touch, we worked each other. His dick leaked pearly beads from the tip, slicking his flushed head.

I broke first, gasping into his salty sweet palm. I came in a rush of gleaming silver flashing behind my closed eyes.

And the only thing better was feeling his cock flex in my hand. He bent his neck toward my shoulder, and the only sound he made was a tiny, punched-out grunt.

Then he came, warm and sticky over my hand.

I wanted to laugh with—with relief or joy or?—

I didn't know, but this was the first time I'd felt wholly and unashamedly myself since, well...

It was hard to say.

With a shaky breath, I edged back from him and looked at the mess on my hand. Killian caught my fingers in a swift move and had a silk handkerchief out the next, wiping me clean before I could even mull over what to do.

He was gratingly efficient as he tucked me back into my trousers and closed the buttons beneath my bellybutton. A stairwell wasn't exactly the place I wanted to get more exposed, but it was a pity that he'd righted our clothes and we'd have to move on.

Was that it?

I wanted to ask him and didn't have the heart. A few more moments under the haze of Killian's acceptance wouldn't do me any harm. No reason to rush toward disappointment.

I shuffled close and dipped forward, dropping my head against his chest. He was a hand's breadth taller than me, his shoulders perhaps a little broader, or maybe that was just the effect of his damnably narrow waist. His tan skin was covered in scars that strangely suited him. His silvery hair was moonlight brought to earth.

For a moment, at least, he let me stay there. His heart pounded beneath my cheek and I shut my eyes.

"Are you hungry?"

"What?" Dazed, I lifted my head and furrowed my brow. Until that moment, I'd scarcely thought of it. I'd been too lost in my project, then desperate for something else.

On cue, my stomach rumbled. This time, when emotion curved Killian's lips—gods, it was genuine amusement. My heart fluttered and my face warmed, even before he turned my hand over in his own and linked his fingers with mine.

"Come on," he said, raking his free hand through my dark waves to settle them in the right place. "We'll get something to eat, and you can tell me how you became so industrious as a lord in the frigid north."

What choice did I have then? An orgasm, a meal, a conversation—it was all I wanted.