Page 80 of A Vow Of Hate


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I shattered.

Thud.

The pieces of me scattered on the floor.

Thud. Thud.

I quivered with the aftershocks of my climax.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Killian pulled his hand from under my dress. While I was utterly transfixed by the sight of his brutally handsome face, his hand fell away from my mouth before he brushed his wet fingers over my swollen lips.

“Suck.” It was one simple command, his voice gravelly and low.

My lips parted and he pushed his two fingers into my mouth. I sucked, like he had commanded me to. The taste of me was musky and strange, but it was the utter filthiness of this situation that made my core clench again.

As if one climax wasn’t enough.

As if my body wanted more.

My tongue swirled around his fingers before he pulled away with a low snarl. Like he had snapped.

His mouth landed on mine, hard and bruising. He didn’t just kiss me.

He devoured me, like a mad man. Like an obsessed man who had been denied this kiss for far too long. His tongue meeting mine in an erotic dance had me whimpering into his mouth.

His hand curled around my neck, his fingers brushing over the pulsing veins in my throat.

The kiss consumed me.

Suffocated me. Confused me.

My mind had been utterly captivated by this man. Who kissed like a brutal savage, who touched like a soft lover and who loved like a gentle beast.

I had come undone in his arms and I didn’t know how to go back to the old Julianna. The one before she knew what it felt like to be touched by Killian Spencer.

I exhaled a shuddering breath into his mouth as I whispered his name, and he swallowed my moan. Killian licked my lips and the inside of my mouth, as if to taste the remnant of me, of my lust.

When he finally pulled away, our chest heaved as we shuddered with an inhale – almost desperate for our next breath.

Our eyes met.

Thud.

He grinned.

Thud. Thud.

“Happy engagement to us, Miss Romano.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My lungs squeezed as we silently put ourselves together again.

Killian trailed a finger along the curve of my throat. “I can’t wait to start our life together.”

My heart withered, like a wilting rose.

I opened my mouth to tell him the truth.

It was on the tip of my tongue.

I craved to be without the burden of guilt once again. I hungered for the weight to be lifted off my chest. The truth tasted almost sweet.

“Killian–”

“Gracelynn.” My head snapped toward the direction of my sister’s voice.

Her eyes darted between Killian and I. “We have to go. Uh, can we leave… early? My stomach… um, is hurting.”

I blinked. “Oh, yes. Right.”

My sister grasped my elbow, practically dragging me away from Killian. “Dad was looking for Killian. And then he noticed you were missing too,” she hissed under her breath. “So, I told him you weren’t feeling well, so we’re leaving the party early.”

I nodded along, not really paying attention to what she was saying. I looked over my shoulder and found Killian still standing there. Bringing my hand up for a quick wave, I mouthed, “Sorry.”

My apology was more than this – being dragged away from him or leaving our engagement party so early and so quickly.

My apology was for my bitter lies and cruel secrets.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE PRESENT

Julianna

I told my husband everything. Starting from the very beginning, until now.

The first time we met – how scared I had been to reveal my identity, and then how the fear of losing him had kept me from telling him the truth for the longest time.

Knowing he was betrothed to my sister, that he was meant to be married to her – I just wanted to have him a bit longer.

For him to be mine before he became hers.

And then I explained to him how I hid my identity after the accident. Dyeing my hair black and changing my voice. Controlling my pitch when I was heavily emotional was hard at first, but after two years of practice, I was able to carefully modulate my voice to sound different than how I usually sounded.

And with my black veil covering my face, it was easier to become someone else in Killian’s eyes than the woman he loved.

Halfway through my story, I started choking on my tears, but Killian’s face remained expressionless. Impassive. Almost like he wasn’t even here. Killian sat up against the wall, one of his legs stretched out in front of him and the other bent to the knee. He was still bare-chested and my gaze brushed over the bullet scar on his stomach.

The bullet he took for me.

The scar he got from protecting me.

The only indication I got that he was listening to my version of our story was the way his jaw tightened, in the slightest way. There was a muscle tick in his left cheek as he gritted his teeth. As if to force himself to remain silent.

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