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CILLIAN
“Thanks for that,” he said. “Not many people can see through all this.” Kill held his hands out, gifting her with a view of his tats that ran up his arms. He knew what he looked like and he made no apologies for his tough outer appearance. It was who he was.
“How far up do your tattoos go?” she asked. Viv was staring at the ink on his arms and he decided to figure out just how much she’d want to see. Kill pulled his shirt over his head and he had to admit he felt a smug satisfaction at the way she looked his upper body over.
“Wow,” she mouthed. He had most of his upper body covered in tats and if he dared remove his pants, which he figured would be a bad idea, she’d find a few on his legs too. “That’s a lot,” she said. “How did you get all these?”
Kill looked down his body at the road map of tattoos that told his life story. He remembered every single tat and the story behind each one. “I had most of them before I went to prison but got a few while I did my time,” he said.
“You can get a tattoo in prison? Do they let you go to a tattoo parlor or something?” He didn’t want to laugh at Viv’s question, but he couldn’t help it. She was so naive it was almost funny. He had never met someone quite like her before.
“No.” Kill chuckled. “They don’t give us day passes to go to the local tattoo parlor. Guys were crafty and sneaky and made their homemade machines. Some were good and some were shit, but it was just a part of it—you know the life. We paid in cigarettes and gum and stuff, to have them done. This one here,” he pointed to a picture of his mother that had been inked onto his chest, just above his heart. “This is a picture of my mum.” Viv leaned into his personal space to study his tat. She was so close to him; he could feel her warm breath on his bare skin and goosebumps rose on his flesh.
“You’re cold,” she said. He felt like his skin was on fire and if Viv knew that, she’d be backing away from him as quickly as possible. Ten years was a damn long time to go without having a woman and Viv was his wet dream. She was turning him inside out with need but Kill knew to keep that bit of information to himself or risk being tossed out on his ass.
“No—just the opposite. I feel as though I’m burning up,” he admitted.
“O—Oh,” she stuttered. Viv must have realized his meaning because she slid back from him as he slipped his shirt back over his head.
“Let me help you clean up and then I think I’m going to hit the hay,” he said. Kill carried his plate over to the kitchen sink and started running warm water in, searching for the dish soap.
“No, you must be exhausted,” she said. “Go on up and pick a room and get settled. Feel free to use the shower first and I’ll clean up down here.”
“Are you sure?” Kill asked. “You realized that you just ordered me to break two of our new rules,” he reminded.
“Two?” Viv questioned.
“Yep. Rule one—shower schedule and rule three—you aren’t a maid. Well, technically you’ve broken rule three twice tonight because you made dinner. So, you’ve been a chef and a maid, going against everything rule three stands for,” he said.
“I guess the rules will just have to start tomorrow,” she said.
“Really?” he asked. “You know, we never discussed a big rule—possibly the biggest rule between us.” Kill was thinking about the fact that Viv hadn’t specifically said that she was off-limits. Rule two was about parading women through the house but nothing about the one woman his whole body seemed to hum to life for. The one woman who seemed to make everything possible for him again. The woman who looked past his time in prison and gave him a chance—Viv.
She put the dirty dishes into the soapy water and turned to face him. “I thought we were pretty thorough and whatever we forgot, we can just add it later or wing it.” God, he hoped she meant it because what he was about to do was going to be either epic or he was going to go down in flames. Either way, he had to take the chance.
“Alright,” he said. Kill crossed her tiny kitchen and pulled her body against his own and his cock instantly sprang to life. Viv felt good—so good that he was willing to risk it all—his new job and a place to live, for what he wanted from her next.
“Cillian,” she chided, swatting at his chest but he didn’t budge. “What are you doing?”
“If you tell me no, this all stops here. I need to know something,” he whispered. Viv stilled against his body and if he wasn’t too off his game, she even leaned into him some, as if in invitation.
“What do you need to know?” she whispered back. Her full lips were mere inches from his own and it was taking all his restraint not to just take what he wanted without her permission. That wasn’t who he was anymore—it didn’t matter how long it had been since he was with a woman.
“I need to know if you taste as good as you look, Darlin’,” he said. “Tell me no, Viv and this stops now,” he reminded.
“What if I don’t want you to stop, Cillian?” she asked. “What if I agree?”
“Don’t tease me, Viv,” he growled. “It’s been a damn long time since I’ve been with a woman.”
Her soft breath hitched and he could tell that she was just as turned on by the whole scene as he was. Viv still hadn’t given him the green light and he wouldn’t make a move on her without her consent.
“How long, Cillian?” she asked. “Since you’ve been with a woman.”
“Just over ten years,” he admitted.
“No special woman visiting you while you were away?” she asked.
“Nope,” he admitted.
