Page 67 of Bad Influence
I swear the corner of Killian’s mouth flickers up into a smile. “I’m only trying to make sure you’re okay.”
I point an accusing finger at him. “You know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s not making sure I’m okay.”
His arm snakes around waist and he pulls me against him so suddenly my breath catches in my throat. His blue eyes burn like fire as he lowers his head until our lips almost brush.
“Maybe you’ll remember this the next time you’re walking around the apartment in flimsy little sleep shorts and a top that barely covers anything and can be ripped off with a tug,” he growls.
Okay, so maybe I started the whole teasing thing. It’s not like I went out and bought those clothes for him. I’ve always had them and never gotten the chance to wear them until now.
“I’m not the one stopping you from ripping them off,” I say.
Killian places a searing kiss on my neck which has me biting off a moan.
“So innocent, sweet Caroline,” he says. “Do you know why I’ve been eagerly playing tour guide?”
“Because you want me to have fun?” I ask, blinking up at him.
Killian’s lips curl up into a smile, though he’s not amused. “Because there’s a very big part of me that wants to keep you locked up in the Tower of Exhaustion, as you call it. No one will see you or touch you. You’ll always be mine and I’ll have endless hours, days with you. To listen to you talk, to paint you, to feel your body beneath mine.”
As someone who’s felt trapped and left exactly the kind of life Killian is painting, I don’t know why his words don’t scare me. Maybe it’s the humidity in the greenhouse, but all his words do is turn me on more.
“I’m not going to do that,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek. “You’re my beautiful butterfly and I want you to fly from flower to flower. I don’t want to pin your wings and keep you on display. The beauty of a butterfly is, it appears when you least expect it and it always makes you happy. I don’t want to keep you as a memory in a box. I want to live you every day.”
Ugh, how does he say so many beautiful things all at once? Kissing my other cheek, he pulls back slightly to look at me.
Of course, the door opens behind us and a group of people come in just as things are starting to get interesting.
Killian steps back as if nothing happened. Taking my hand, he leads me through the rest of the conservatory. Meanwhile, I’m reeling from his words and trying to keep my wits about me.
Two days later, I’m lying on my bed on my front, my legs up in the air behind me when there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
Killian pushes open the door and leans against the doorframe. We haven’t spent any time together the last two days and a part of me thinks he’s avoiding me because of the greenhouse confession. Which has starred in my fantasies since then and I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
“Do you still like chocolate cake?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Why? Do you want to make me cry again by telling me how much you hate it?”
On my seventh birthday, he refused to eat the cake when I took it to him because he doesn’t like chocolate cake. That was the first time I cried over a boy.
Killian looks at me flatly. “I don’t hate chocolate cake. I hate all cakes.”
“That’s because you’re not human,” I say. I close my book and sit up, crossing my legs under me. Shadows are lengthening across my room as the sun shifts in the sky. The only light on is the lamp I turned on earlier.
“Damn, if I’d known sooner I’d have spent less time worrying about breaking the law and more time doing whatever I wanted.”
“The law always ruins everything,” I say.
Killian smiles imperceptibly. “Don’t let the bar association hear that or they will revoke your license.”
I shrug. “I’m learning to live life on the edge. Bold and fearless.”
“Do you want to come back from the edge for some chocolate cake?”
