Page 35 of Killian (West Bend Saints 4)

When she answered, her voice was hoarse, and the flush was still evident on her face. "Where's home?"

"West Bend, Colorado," I told her. The last place on earth some actress would be interested in going. The fact that she was still sitting in my car made no fucking sense.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll go with you." She said it matter-of-fact.

"To my fucking house?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Did I ask you to come home with me?" I said. Was this girl crazy? Bringing someone like her back to West Bend? Bringing her back to my house? There was no way short of hell freezing that I was letting her within a hundred yards of my family.

"Oh," she said. She sounded disappointed, and I found myself caring.

Fuck.

"No, I mean, I just assumed you were offering me a ride or something."

Yeah, I thought. Or something, definitely.

My cock was doing all the thinking for me. When I spoke, the words sounded foreign to my ears. “You want to come with me to West Bend?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, grinning wickedly. “I mean, since you’re asking and everything.”

Shit. My cock was definitely doing the thinking here.

7

River

My head was back on the headrest, my eyes closed, and I listened to the hum of the car as we drove along the highway. I was in that space between asleep and awake, trying to ignore the thoughts swirling in my head.

Four hours ago, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, driving off with some guy I just met, the same guy who had stuck his tongue down my throat in a hotel hallway.

His tongue.

I could still taste him on my lips. He tasted like whiskey and sex.

What the hell was I thinking, jumping in some guy’s car and going with him to his hometown? I only just learned his name. I knew nothing about him. We had nothing in common- I was sure of that. Two different worlds and all.

This is the dumbest idea ever, River.

And I had done some stupid shit, that was for damn sure.

Viper ran around on me, but it’s not like I’d always been an angel. I went to rehab once, after a bad spell of partying before I was even eighteen. I’d lucked out with a manager who was good with that kind of shit, hired one of those fixers who can manage anything. The fixer got me out of that jam. She was probably busy spinning this one already. I wondered what she was coming up with. Running away in the middle of a movie shoot? Hitching a ride to Colorado with some guy I'd just met?

This wasn't my best moment ever.

But it probably wouldn't be the last stupid, impulsive decision I ever made. In fact, I thought as I looked over at Elias, his gaze fixed straight ahead, I thought, he might be the next stupid impulsive thing I did.

The thought sent immediate warmth radiating to my core.

And just as quickly, I reminded myself that I only just left my fiancé. My boyfriend of three years. In Hollywood years, that was a fucking lifetime.

Of course, he was the one with his cock in my sister’s throat. And it had been months since we had sex, since he touched me in any way, shape, or form. That wasn’t by my choice. He blamed it on his “art,” this new album he was doing that he wanted to “channel his energy” into.

When the car came to a stop again, I was jerked out of my thoughts.

“Pit stop,” Elias said.

"Duct tape and rope?" I asked, grinning.

"How'd you know?" he asked. "It was going to be a secret surprise." He got out of the car, and as I opened the car door, caught the handle. He reached for my hand as I slid out of the seat.

"Come on, now," he said. "Don't tell me those Hollywood boys aren't into opening car doors for you."

"Not really."

"Damn shame," he said. He walked quickly, and I found myself a step behind him on the way toward the store, distracted by looking at his ass. Then I noticed his gait was slightly unsteady, but before I could think about what that meant, he turned his head.

“Looking at something?” he asked. His voice had the same light-hearted tone as before, but there was an edge to it this time.

Your ass, I wanted to say. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t open my mouth. I shook my head, suddenly mute.

A dark look crossed his face. “My leg?” he asked.

“What?” I was confused by what he was asking.

He pulled his pant leg up slightly. “There it is,” he said, and I felt embarrassed, but not because of his leg. I was embarrassed he caught me staring at his ass, and now he thought I was some kind of jerk, staring at his prosthetic. I knew my face was red. I could feel the heat streaked across my cheeks. I had been in the limelight for so long now, I wasn’t easily embarrassed. Yet this guy, whose name I only just learned, had this way of making me flush.

In more ways than one.

“That’s not what I -” I started to say, then stopped, because he was already walking away toward the store. I had to jog to catch up with him, and when I did, I put my hand on his arm. “Elias.”

“What?” He paused, looked at me, his eyes narrowed. They were this cobalt blue color, so bright it looked almost unnatural.

He really should be a model or something, I thought. My manager would be drooling over him. I wondered how he’d gone his whole life without being discovered.

"It's no big deal. It's a prosthetic," he said.

“I wasn’t looking at your leg,” I said. “I didn’t even notice it until you just showed me right now.”

“Seriously," he said, his tone patronizing. "Let it go. It's not a big deal, but you're making it one. You were staring; people do all the time."

“I wasn’t.” I said, this time more emphatically. “I’m not an asshole." Why am I even bothering to defend myself to this guy? Who cares what he thinks?

“No,” he said. “But most people love freak shows. Isn’t that the basis for most reality television?”

I felt heat on my chest, radiating down my arms. I could feel it on my skin. I always got this rash when I was upset, all red and prickly like hives. My mother used to say it was because I was allergic to emotion. It wasn’t a good quality to have in an actress, but hardly anyone knew about it, at least when I was on set. I managed it.

“You do know who I am,” I said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“Reality show?” I asked. I realized I was standing closer to him now, pointing my finger at his chest. “Is that some kind of snide comment about my wedding?”

"Wedding?" Elias asked. He made a noise, and I couldn’t tell if it was a cough or a laugh. "What are you, some kind of runaway bride?"

“No.” I paused, forgetting for a minute that I was angry. I guess I am, aren't I? “Sort of.”

“So, you're what, some kind of reality star getting married?" he asked. The corners of his mouth were turned up at the edges and he crossed his arms across his chest. He was fucking smirking at me. What a smug asshole.

I don’t know why I was so pissed off. It was something about that cocky smile on his face, like he was so much better than me.

He knows nothing about me.

"Screw you," I said, turning on my heel and walking into the store. Inside the bathroom, I splashed water on my cheeks. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at the flush that covered my cheeks and the pink splotches across my chest. I put my hands on the sink and took a few deep breaths.

It was his attitude that got me, that I'm-better-than-you-are thing that cut through me like a knife. I had put my past behind me. I wasn’t that white trash girl anymore. The darkness from my past, it was filed away, boxed up like the shit of mine my mother kept as reminders, like the tattered stuffed bear I used to cry myself to sleep with at night.

It was funny how life worked...you did everything you could to change who you were, to become the person you wanted to become, the person you

thought you were. And then it just took one comment from someone to make you feel like that stupid little girl again.

Always thought you were better than the rest of us, River. You're my child, you hear me? You'll never be better than me. No matter where you go, how much money you make, how many fans you have, you'll always be my child.

What she said wasn't meant to be comforting.

It wasn’t true, I told myself. But my heart was still racing. I reached inside my purse and pulled out the small box. As soon as my fingers brushed the leather case, I felt a rush of warmth flood my body. My heart rate started to fall.

I'm just looking, I told myself.

It had been six months since I'd done it. I didn't even do it after I walked in on Viper and my sister. I ran my fingertips over the leather of the case, but I didn't open it. Instead, I slid the kit containing my razor blade back into my bag.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palm. The pain was a distraction, not even near the same as cutting. But I focused on it instead.

I took a deep breath, and walked out the door.

And into Elias.

He was standing in front of the bathroom door, not even bothering to be fucking polite about it, his hands on either side of the door frame. Like he owned the space.

The way he was looking at me made me shiver.

8

Elias

The way this girl was looking up at me, her lips slightly parted, this flush on her cheeks that made them all rosy, like she had just gone running or something... I couldn’t fucking think about anything else except being inside her. I didn't move from where I was standing in the door frame, not to touch her. But I felt her inch closer to me.

"Following me?" she asked. Her voice was soft.

"I want to know what you were really looking at back in the parking lot," I said. "If it wasn't my leg, what was it?"

She exhaled forcefully, and I didn't know if she was pissed off or not. Until she answered. "Your ass."

"Excuse me?" I heard her, but I wanted to hear her say it again. I felt this thrill rush through me, and I swear to God all the blood in my body went straight to my cock.

"Your." She took a breath, punctuating the word. "Ass. I was looking at your ass while you were walking in front of me."

I felt myself grin. I couldn't help it.

"What?" she asked. Her lips were so goddamned pouty I couldn't think straight.

"So you're some kind of reality star or what?" I opened my mouth, and that was the question that came out. It wasn’t the question I wanted to ask. The question I wanted to ask was the one about whether she was getting married.

River sighed, loudly this time. "No," she said. "But my wedding was supposed to be televised. Live. Last night. To Viper Gabriel."

"Shit." Viper Gabriel. "You're dating Viper Gabriel?" Now I recognized her. I had seen her on the cover of magazines.

Fuck. She wasn’t just a little bit famous. She was really fucking famous.

And she was telling me she had been checking out my ass.

"Was," she said.

"Was what?" I was confused. I was preoccupied with the fact that I couldn't seem to get the blood flowing back in the right direction - toward my brain.

"Was getting married," she explained. "Past tense. Until I walked in on him and my sister going at it."

"Shit," I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t imagine why a guy who was with her would want to put his cock anywhere else but inside her.

River shrugged. "So now you know why I am where I am," she said. "So why are you here?"

I didn’t know why I did what I did next. I hadn't wanted anyone in a long time, much less someone like this, someone way out of my league.

I kissed her. Hard. Her lips parted as my mouth pressed against hers, and her tongue found mine. Kissing her lit some kind of fire inside me.

I pushed her against the nearby wall, hard- too hard, I thought. I had to tell myself to slow down, but River moaned, and it made me fucking crazy. I grabbed a handful of hair at the base of her neck, and pulled her toward me.

"Remember when you used to kiss me like that?"

River jumped and turned her head at the sound of the voice that cut through the moment between us. The older couple watching us had to be in their eighties. The man looked at us and winked before he spoke.

"Used to?" he asked. "I kissed you like that this morning."

"Oh, I know you did, honey," she said, patting her husband on his sweater-clad arm. "I'm talking about up against a wall like this, not against the wall at home." She lowered her voice, adopted a conspiratorial tone. "He used to be a lot more wild. An exhibitionist."

"I can change that if you brought my pills with you," he said.

River stifled a giggle, and I cleared my throat. "Excuse us," River said, taking my hand in hers and pulling me out of the storefront and back toward the car. When she reached the car, she paused, backed up against the passenger side door, her hands on my waist. She laughed as she touched me, her palms on my chest, smoothing the fabric of my shirt. The gesture felt familiar and unknown, all at the same time. It was a strange mixture.

"I didn't know we had an audience back there," she said.

I kissed her again, needing to feel her against me. As soon as I touched her, I was hard again, and for a minute I was convinced she was going to think I was some kind of sex obsessed pervert. But she arched her back, and I could feel her pressing into my hardness, instead of pulling away.

I can't fucking believe someone like her wants me.

Then she pulled back. I could taste her lips on mine, even after she pulled away. "We should probably get out of here before we have an even bigger audience," she whispered.

I cleared my throat again, reached behind her for the car door handle, purposely not moving away from her. My hand was against her ass, and the movement pulled her toward me. "Still sure you want to come with me?" I asked. The question immediately made me think of sex, and I could imagine being inside her.

Come with me.

When she answered, her voice was breathy. "Yes."

9

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