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And I do. All shuddering, repressed breaths, body shaking, my thighs squeezing against his hand. I come so hard I see stars behind my closed eyes. As I sag into the soft seat, he leaves me with a last, lingering caress—a gentle tap as if rewarding me for a job well done.
I should kick him for that. But I can’t move. He’s destroyed me.
“Jerk,” I whisper without heat.
His shoulder nudges mine. “You can take your revenge later.”
I glance at him then, only when I can finally meet his gaze without showing how much he affects me. His dark eyes glitter in the flickering light. When I try my best to reprimand him with a look, he grins wide. Impossible to resist. I don’t know why I even try.
Taking a quick glance around to see if anyone is watching, I lean in and give the hard swell of Killian’s biceps a soft kiss. His muscles twitch in surprise, but then he sighs, his long body slouching down in the seat.
His hand finds mine in the darkness between us. In a low voice only for me, he speaks one last time. “Baby doll, I could assert my manly dominance, thump my chest, and declare you’re mine. But it wouldn’t mean a damn thing if I’m not yours in return.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Killian
My mood is mellow now. Getting Libby off will do that for me. I take my time heading out when the movie’s over. Eventually I’ll meet her in the suite. She’ll draw us a bath, insisting that we have a nice, hot soak to end the day. She always does. Libby is a creature of habit, and I find that oddly soothing. Whatever craziness life throws my way, I want her there, calm and steady.
Scottie is standing by the exit door, arms crossed, feet planted. His expression is granite. In other words, he’s ticked. Why he’s glaring at me instead of Brenna and Rye, or even Whip and that reporter, I don’t know.
“What’s up?” I ask. “Someone talk during the movie? Or are you still pissed Han died?”
His eyes narrow. “Some things we don’t joke about, Killian.”
Right. Brenna had told me she was almost one-hundred-percent sure Scottie cried when they first went to see the movie. I didn’t know the man could produce tears.
“Maybe it was a fake-out,” I tell him. “You know, he’s really hanging on some scaffolding, waiting for Billy Dee to pick him up… Right. No more talking about Han.”
Scottie grunts and walks with me out to the lobby. It’s fairly empty now, hangers on and crew having gone off to the next party.
“You’re not as circumspect as you’d like to believe,” he tells me.
Confused, I glance at him. He glares right back.
“Eventually people will notice you and Ms. Bell getting cozy.”
My steps slow. “Say what you’re going to say, Scottie.”
He stops and faces me. “You saw what happened with Rye and Brenna tonight.”
“Everyone saw. Your point?” My mellow is heading toward pissed off.
“The longer you draw this out, the worse it will be when people learn the truth.” He sets his hands low on his hips. Lecture stance. “There’s a saying: Shit or get off the pot.”
“That’s classy for you, Scottie.”
“You two want to be together, make it known. Brenna and I will find a way to deal with it.”
“We’re not a problem for you to deal with,” I snap, keeping my voice low.
“You are. And if you can’t see that, you’re being deliberately blind.”
For a second, I have to look away.
Scottie takes the moment to go in for the kill. “I want her, Killian.”
I reel back as if punched in the gut, and he rolls his eyes.
“To manage, you git.” For the first time, humor lights his expression.
I take a bit longer to calm. “Jesus, say it another way then. I already had to deal with Whip tonight, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’ve never seen you so territorial.” He’s quietly laughing at me. Ass.
“Get used to it.” I run my hand over my tight neck. I definitely need a soak now. “Seriously, though? You want to take Libby under your wing?” I know what that means. It’s something anyone who knows anything about the industry dreams of. Scottie is a legend.
He started off with us, convincing four eighteen-year-old punks to take a chance on him, never mind he was basically our age with absolutely no true experience at the time. We took that gamble and never looked back. As for Scottie, he’s picked up a select number of other clients along the way, all of them going platinum.
The man is a business and marketing genius with a killer instinct. If he says someone has It, the music industry listens.
“You were right to ask her on the tour,” he says. “She is exceptional. Brenna tells me she’s getting an increasing number of interview requests for Liberty, fan mail by the dozens. We haven’t said anything to her because we don’t want to overwhelm her at the moment.”
