CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Idon't say a word as I step inside the penthouse. Too nervous Killian might be around like last time.

Moreover since I'm by myself. Carter has been the perfect gentleman and is down the street, buying me a new body lotion. I forgot mine in a cabinet at my old apartment. I didn't ask for it. It was him. It's the one he loves sniffing on me and refuses to live without.

One step forward in the foyer. I can't see the kitchen, but my ears are working overtime.

I hear nothing.

It's not that late, but I hope he's off to bed.

Despite Carter's reassurances, today has left me raw. I'd much rather face Killian refreshed or at least with Carter by my side.

He should be here in a few minutes.

I'll be fine.

People don't die from sexual tension or rejection, do they?

After sending a small prayer to whoever's up there listening, I keep walking. My feet pad on the marble floors. One hesitant step after the other.

Stop. Listen.

More silence welcomes me. And warmth. Thank heavens for the warmth. As Carter predicted, I got cold once we unfolded ourselves from his Porsche and into the parking garage of their building.

He didn't pin me with an I told you so, though. Carter isn't petty, unlike some people are. Never him. What he did was shrug off his suit jacket and drape it over my shoulders before promising to bring my two duffels later and leaving for the pharmacy.

I grip the edge of the wall where the foyer ends and the penthouse begins, angling my body. Peeking into the first floor.

No one's in the living room area. The kitchen's also empty.

I shake my head at myself. Even if Killian were here, all he'd do is run in the opposite direction.

A metaphorical punch in the gut still hurts.

Yeah, yeah, inner voice, whatever. I'm not in the mood.

Carter swore Killian doesn't hate me. That he doesn't mean to be an asshole. That he wants me. Us.

And I choose to believe him.

I have this.

Confidence injects into my veins, and I march forward and into the kitchen. The empty kitchen.

The relief I thought I'd have doesn't follow. Now that I see Killian's off somewhere doing something else, I can't help but feel a tiny bit disappointed.

Shake it off, Amara, you're just confused. You said so yourself.

What's meant to be will be. I slip out of Carter's jacket, inhaling his scent before placing it neatly on the kitchen island.

Next on my list is tea. My flayed nerves could really use some right about now. I waltz around the kitchen, fish out two mugs from the cupboard for Carter and me, and put the teapot on the stove.

The tea boxes, though. I always forget where they put them.

"Hmm." I rise on my tiptoes, opening one cupboard after the other. Oh, here it—

"Hello, Amara."

"Help!" I scream, snapping my eyes shut.

My heart races a mile a minute.

When it shouldn't.

Clarity chases away the panic when I realize the voice belongs to Killian. Fuck the guy who broke into my apartment. Bastard.

I hope Carter got him good. I hope there's a limb missing from the man who put me on edge like this.

"Am I so terrible that you need someone to save you?"

With a hand on my chest, I whip back to stare at Killian. "N-no, I—"

He's standing on the landing of the second floor, a hand on the railing. Once my heart rate settles into something acceptable and not a borderline heart attack, I take the rest of him in.

His normally styled dirty blond hair is disheveled. Mussed. Sexy. Black cotton pants hang on his tapered hips.

He's shirtless.

For the first time since I've started dating Carter, his stepdad greets me with nothing covering his upper body. No dress shirt. No Henley.

I repeat, shirtless.

Glorious.

Mouth-fucking-watering.

So wrong, Amara. Carter's not here. Ogling Killian is the most wrong fucking thing.

Before I listen to logic and dart my gaze away, my curious, stupid eyes betray me. Forcing me to explore Killian's tattoos.

He has two sleeves inked on each of his arms. Skulls and roses decorate his skin, each one blending into the other. Some of their mouths are clamped shut, the others are wide open in a scream. The roses don't tone down the macabre design. They're just as mean-looking as the skulls are with the thorns and the blood dripping from them.

His muscles pulse beneath the ink, bringing the roses and skulls to life. Transforming the flowers into something out of Poison Ivy's Garden, not my shop. Especially with those veins threading through his forearms and biceps.

The sight is horrifically alluring.

It causes me to cement my feet to the floor. To keep from gliding to Killian. To keep from trailing my fingertips over each skull and rose. Exploring the feel of Killian's veins and enjoying the blood thrumming through them.

It costs me, but I do it.

"You what, beautiful girl?" Killian's at the bottom of the stairs, his dark gaze intense. Fixed on me.

Wetting my lips, I focus every bit of my attention on the floor. The marble veins are safe. Much safer than the sexy predicament I'm in.

"I'm sorry." I twirl a lock of my hair around my finger. "Didn't mean to intrude. Or scream."

"You live here. You're not intruding. And screams don't deter me." Killian's feet—the only part of him I see now—pad toward me. "There's something appealing about making another person scream, wouldn't you agree, beautiful girl?"

His cologne assaults my senses. Then images of either Carter or me screaming because Killian fucked us too hard. Or worse.

Better stay quiet. For once in my life, I choose silence.

One hot finger presses my chin up. Killian's eyes are different from Carter's. Dark brown instead of gray. Far less unhinged and far more intense.

They're just as predatory, though. Both of them see through me. Disarming me.

Reckless. Embarrassment. Silly little girl.

Those were a few of the choice words my parents and only sister had for me over the years. Until I left.

But Carter or Killian never say those things to me. They don't even look at like I'm a freak or with their lips twisted into a snark no matter what I do.

The only thing they have for me is smiles. And now, now there's nothing but desire on Killian's expression.

"How's your head?" he asks, his gaze drifting higher, then back at my eyes.

"Uh…" I rub the small lump that doesn't hurt anymore. "It's okay."

"Amara." His deep voice is an earthquake, and I shudder.

"Yes?" I whisper. Or more like breathe out. I feel floaty.

"Amara, listen to me."

I do listen. It's talking that I'm struggling with. My throat is clogged. My mouth is dry.

Being this close to him, without Carter here, it's so fucking fucked.

"We should probably wait for Carter." He releases my chin but doesn't step back. "To have this talk. The three of us."

When I stay silent, Killian's attention deviates from my face. Lowers down my body. His nostrils flare when he reaches below my breastbone. My nipples are hard. My breasts are swollen.

They're sending him a message.

The right one at the wrong time.

While my mouth doesn't work, my feet do. I walk backward, my sneakers scuffling as I drag myself to safety.

Doesn't help. Every step back is mirrored by a step forward from Killian.

No music plays in the background, but there's no denying he and I are dancing. A predator and his prey.

Until my back hits one of the walls in the kitchen.

My skin tingles and my breaths quicken as I get lost in his shadow.

"Beautiful girl." He slams a hand over my head, his voice gruff. "Eyes on me."

He doesn't touch me or try to coerce me into looking at him again. Doesn't have to. His command is powerful enough. Violent. Consuming.

Throughout my entire life, I've met one person and one person alone who's had this effect on me.

My pulse roars between my ears at the realization.

Carter.

"Where's Carter?" Killian grits out, as if reading my mind.

"Went to pick up body lotion." My nose twitches, the traitorous asshole. Does Killian know it means I'm nervous? "For me. Forgot it at home. He. Uh. Likes the smell. So he went to pick up a new one for me."

"You shouldn't be embarrassed. Forgetting things is only human." Killian leans in closer, his eyes darkening. "You went through a lot the past two days. No one expects you to have your shit together."

The muscles on Killian's chest stretch as he expands his lungs with an inhale. His eyebrows lower. Lips pressed tight. Jaw ticking.

He isn't being compassionate.

He's tortured.

"Even a brave girl like you." Killian's low voice reaches to my pussy. "Even she…"

My breath hitches. I press my back further against the wall.

Killian being Killian ignores it. But unlike Killian, he opens his mouth and speaks.

"The perfect girl," he adds, his words searing me, disintegrating me into nothing. "Even she's entitled to have her off days. Forget things. Pretend she's not seeing things."

My ears blare as the organ in my chest screams.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Run. Stay. Run. Stay.

"You think I'm perfect?" Out of everything, it's the only question I can think of that won't get me in trouble.

Thanking him would fuel his hunger further. Telling him This perfect girl and her boyfriend are right here, waiting for you to join them would mean nothing with Carter gone.

Oh, muffin, just buy whichever lotion and come back already. I'm losing it. Worse, I've been lost for ten minutes now.

"Yes." Killian bends to my eye level, our faces inches apart. "I thought you were perfect the moment Carter gave you a piggyback ride when you got here the first time."

I remember that day. Though not as fondly. Carter walked me in here, and we were laughing. He teased me about how I choked him. I teased back, reminding him I choked him harder when he went down on me a day before.

Then Killian emerged from the balcony, his face as serious as he's been for the six months that followed.

Staring into this grumpy man's face now, I'm starting to reevaluate everything.

"You're beautiful, but anyone could tell you that." Killian's heat has to be hotter than hell. "Only someone who really knows you can appreciate what you have on the inside. Your vibrant energy. Your adorable laugh. The way you love and talk about your plants and flowers as if they were your children. How you jump up and down when you're excited."

Trapped. I'm trapped. My mind is Killian's prisoner. My body is his.

He keeps talking.

He's saying something.

My scrambled eggs of a brain doesn't hear him. All I see are his lips moving.

"What did you say?" I can't miss what he said. It seems important. Way too important.

His lips twitch. Killian eviscerates that rare almost-smile of his. "The delicious sound of your moans."

Oh.

Blabber, Amara. Blabbering is safe. Blabber until Carter gets here.

"H-how do you know all that about me?"

"Just because we don't talk, doesn't mean I don't pay attention." Killian's eyes are blacker than black. "That I don't watch."

With those simple words, I understand what Carter's been trying to explain to me.

This complicated man has always had a thing for me. Like I'm sure he has a thing for Carter.

He's been keeping his distance for a reason. He's been masking his feelings for me since I'm Carter's, and Killian is as loyal as they come. He hasn't made a move on Carter. Hasn't been a predator or made it seem like he's been grooming him all this time.

It makes sense now.

Then yesterday happened.

The delicate balance the three of us have maintained is no more.

Carter issued him an open invitation, pushed Killian's buttons. Forced him to make a move.

"Carter's previous partners, I've never liked any of them. All it took was one look at them and"—he snaps his fingers—"I knew they weren't good enough for my stepson. Men or women. I haven't approved of any of them. You, though, stood out."

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, wetting it.

"You, Amara, were—are—different. Special." His words cut into my fixation, demanding my attention. "For once, I didn't want to throw his partner out of here."

"Then?" What a fucking awful question to ask.

Okaywould've been so much better. It wouldn't have egged him on. Wouldn't have encouraged him to continue this without Carter here.

One day my curiosity will be the end of me.

"It was jealousy." The fire blazing in him roars, scalds. Scorches the earth he's standing on. "I'm still not fucking over it. How he has you. How he touches you."

Shock renders my body frozen as he slams another hand on the wall, bracketing me. His hands slide down lower, his thumbs grazing my biceps.

"Kisses you."

My eyes widen, but I don't see anything around me. Nothing other than Killian Murdock. His ravenous gaze, the tic of his jaw, his strong nose. Every pore on his skin. His overpowering intensity.

"And the other way around. How you've been touching Carter. How he looks at you when he bends you over and fucks you on the kitchen island."

I knew it. Yesterday and today solidified months of this sweet notion I've been having. Those silent conversations they've been having. The idle, never-ending fire in the room whenever these two are there.

Words evade me. Killian stops talking, too. He's watching for my reaction. Seconds of laden silence pass between us when his gaze travels across me. It delves lower to my neck, my collarbone, landing on my nipple ring. He shakes his head, breathing hard.

Despite the turned-on, stupefied state I'm in, I don't forget what's right and what's wrong.

Carter's not here to hear Killian's confession. He deserves to be here for it.

Ignoring the heat in my core and the lust overtaking me, I talk. Because ruining this moment will save the three of us later.

"Uh, Killian, my eyes are up here." It's cheesy as fuck. Then again, I'm kind of short on brain cells at the moment.

"Beautiful girl." Killian's eyes are a wrecking ball, hitting my soul hard. Then his hand is on my throat. "I'm fully well aware of every inch of your body. Where every part of you is. Yours and Carter's. Have been for months."

Boom!

The sound of two duffel bags echoes in the vast space of the penthouse. Bags bearing my clothes and other shit I packed from home. A thunk that sounds awfully like a new body lotion that's still in the box, too.

"Pet," Carter says, his voice laced with the smile of his that I obsess over.

A smile I don't see since Killian looms even taller to hide me from him. By the fierceness of Killian's gaze, I'd go so far as to say he's protecting me.

Which is unnecessary. I'm not in danger from Carter.

He's not mad. I didn't hear an ounce of anger in his voice.

When Carter closes the distance between us, appearing at Killian's side, I have my proof as well.

At least I think I do.

"Carter, I—" Killian starts.

"Pet." Carter sidesteps Killian, snatching me and pinning me to his front. He walks me over to the kitchen island, pinning my back to it.

Killian's quick to follow. "She didn't do anything wrong."

Carter's gray eyes are playful. He doesn't smile, though. He doesn't smile at all when he says, "You've been a bad girl, pet. A very bad girl."