AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not until Killian.
I thought going into this, that I was making a deal with the devil. Agreeing to something because my father betrayed the wrong people. I truly didn’t know what to expect or if I would survive. Killian, however, has never been anything other than good to me… good for me.
He’s done so much from moving me into this house, the wardrobe, the salon—all of it. And here he is pulling strings so he can be with me and check on me because I was hurt. My heart stutters in my chest. I look into his warm, dark eyes, and pleasure explodes in my chest. I don’t question it. I know that this is the exact moment that I fall irrevocably in love with Killian O’Leary.
I can’t tell him, of course. Our conversation about the reasons he wanted a wife and how he didn’t believe in love and that type of emotion is already planted firmly in my memory. I remind myself daily of what Killian told me he would put into our relationship and what his limitations were. Still, the fact that he’s here holding me, touching me as if I matter, gives me hope.
Maybe someday he will change his mind.
“You got hurt because of me. Of course, I'm going to be here,” Killian says, moving his hand to my face, brushing the barest of touches across the nasty bruises on my cheek and around my eye. He leans over and kisses it. “I’m so fucking sorry, Belle.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do this. Are you okay?” I ask, hoping that E-Z relayed everything.
“You are the one that went to the hospital, Belle,” he responds, shaking his head with a small smile on his lips—one that reaches his eyes. “You’ve been through hell, and yet, you’re asking if I’m okay. What kind of woman did I marry?” he asks, shaking his head.
He doesn’t sound displeased that I’m his wife, and warmth fills me.
“I’m glad that I’m the one you married,” I answer. I’ve never asked, but I know in my heart that there were all kinds of women that Killian could have approached for this deal we’ve made. The thought that he might have a ring on his hand that proclaims him another woman’s is a terrifying thought.
“Believe it or not, little one, I am, too. Still, you have to know that all of this is my fault. It’s because of me that you were hurt, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I should have taken better care of you. I don’t want you to be afraid. I will do everything in my power to make sure that this never happens to you again.”
“Please stop feeling guilty, Killian. You didn’t do this.”
He kisses me again, and I almost moan. It feels like forever passed between the last visit and now. I was distraught when I had to miss Saturday’s visit because they wouldn’t discharge me. I cried, not caring that E-Z and Ryan saw. I wanted to be in Killian’s arms again.
Just like right now.
He leans over me gently, careful not to give me his weight. Then, he makes a path of barely-there kisses along the side of my face and cheek. He continues down my neck and across my collar bone. He’s creating a path that warms my skin to the point it feels as if he’s setting me on fire. He pulls my shirt up, placing gentle kisses along my bruised ribs. I tangle my fingers into his hair as he goes, relishing having Killian’s touch again.
“If I’m dreaming, I don’t want to wake up,” I whisper. I can feel the smile play on his lips as he kisses along my side around to my belly until he looks up at me.
“You’re not dreaming,” he breathes, kissing the same trail back up until his face is in front of mine and we’re staring at one another.
“How long do you get to stay with me?” I ask. My heart is hammering in my chest. I want the answer, and yet, I don’t.
“I’m not sure yet. At least three days.”
Disappointment fills me and I do my best not to let it show. Three days is nothing. I have this painful lump in my throat. I don’t know if I’m emotional because I’m hurt or because I’ve just discovered I’m in love with my husband. I suspect it’s a mixture of both. All I truly know is that I selfishly want more time with Killian.
“I’m so sorry for what my father cost you,” I whisper, knowing if I talk any louder, my voice will break. He looks at me for a second before kissing my forehead.
“Stop, Belle. I know I sought you out because of who you are, but if you believe nothing else, please believe that I know you are not like your father—nothing like him. What happened is on him not you. You are not your father, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
