Page 62 of Bad Influence
I try to picture him as a lawyer, in designer suits, his hair neatly styled, no visible tattoos, no rings. The thought is unpleasant and makes me wrinkle my nose in disgust.
Killian looks at me in question. “What is it?”
“Just trying to picture you as a lawyer,” I say. “It doesn’t really suit you. I guess I’m just used to seeing you like this.”
“In another life, you would have been used to seeing me as a lawyer and this would have been strange,” he says.
The thought makes me frown. “Do you believe in other lives? Do you think there’s more than this?”
“I think I believe in science too much to believe that we had other lives. But at the same time, I believe that we have to pay karmic debts and there are things in our universe that science is still discovering.”
I feel like I’m discovering a whole new part of Killian I never knew existed. Also, I’m discovering there’s still a part of me that wants to know someone. When people don’t understand you, your soul becomes heavy and exhausted; shutting off is easier than fighting every day. Somewhere along the way, I shut myself off to people and new things. Maybe we both did.
“I like to think that there is more to the universe than what we see,” I say. “It’s not like we’ll know if we’ve had past lives. But I like to think that maybe we’ll have the opportunity to fix our mistakes.”
Killian frowns, leaning towards the canvas. “If nothing is guaranteed, shouldn’t you want to fix your mistakes in this life? No one knows if there is going to be another one.”
I thought he might say this, and I already have an answer ready.
Debating with him is the most fun I’ve had in years. Actually,doing anything with him is the most fun I’ve had in years. A large part of that has to be the fact that he just takes me as I am. If I want to be better, he’ll support me, if I want to say the same he’s fine with that as well.
He’s the only person who makes me feel like my life as mine, and not his to command. How can I ever regret him?
CHAPTER 18
Killian
At around onein the morning, we call it quits. The painting is half finished, but Caroline is clearly exhausted. Her eyes are drooping shut, and while I have more energy to paint than I’ve had in months, I don’t want to keep her up.
I send her to bed and sit down on the chaise, bending forward to rest my elbows on my knees as I thrust my hands into my hair. When I close my eyes, the only thing I see is Caroline in that robe, her lips painted a sinful red.
She’s temptation incarnate, a goddess of seduction and beauty. I’m a mere mortal who has to fight for my life.
She fit against me so perfectly, like she was always meant to be there. I swear I can still feel the softness of her skin under my hands.
What was she thinking wearing that? It’s hard enough being under the same roof with her without having that tempting image in my mind.
It would’ve been easy to give in and take what we wanted from each other. But I’m not going to be her rebound, even if she doesn’t realize that’s exactly what she’s doing. She needs to figure out if she wants this for the right reasons or because I’m the only person who actually understands her.
With a sigh, I stand up and walk to my room. Taking off my rings, I drop them on the dresser before removing my clothes and getting in bed.
The apartment is eerily quiet tonight. It always is, but tonight it feels even more so. There’s no noise coming from outside, not even horns or sirens. That’s unusual.
After a half hour of struggling to sleep, I sit up and turn on the lamp, grabbing the book on my nightstand. It’s a philosophy book and usually it will keep me entertained, but tonight my mind is running.
The only thing I keep thinking about is Caroline.
Is she asleep? What will she do if I knock on her door right now? What willIdo if I knock on her door? No matter the conflicted feelings we have for each other, it doesn’t change the fact that she was engaged to my brother. If we do anything and it gets back to Beckett, it’s just going to add fuel to the fire.
I don’t care what my family or my brother does, but I’m not going to let anything affect Caroline. They’ve already painted her as the villain.
Setting aside my book, I get out of bed and pull on a pair of lounge pants. Maybe a cup of warm milk will help me fall asleep, especially if it’s spiked with a little Irish whiskey.
I leave my room and start to make my way down when I see a shadow moving in the kitchen. I pause on the stairs, watching Caroline open the fridge and grab the carton of milk. Seems like neither of us can sleep tonight.
“You know if you add whiskey to that it’ll be more effective,” I call out.
She jumps a mile in the air, turning around to face me, her hand resting on her chest over her heart.
