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His hot lips trail down my jaw and I press my hands to his shoulders, pushing him back slightly.
“Mmmm I made dinner for you,” I smile lightly and his hands squeeze my ass once more as his breath ghosts over my neck.
“Is ityou? Dressing up like this?”
“No.” A chuckle bubbles up my throat. “I madeactualdinner. For us to sit down and eat and ah—!” His teeth snag over my throat and all words catch behind my tongue.
I’m too weak for him.
Thankfully Killian relents, stepping back and meeting my eyes before he cups my face and kisses me once more.
“Fine. We’ll eat.” He glances at the kitchen as I peck his jaw then scurry towards it. “I didn’t even know the cooker worked.”
“Of course not,” I scoff, “you live on Chinese takeout and protein bars. It’s a wonder you stay as sculpted as you are.”
“It’s a talent.” Killian shrugs off his leather jacket, dropping it onto the nearest chair then he gathers my empty wine glass and carries it into the kitchen, setting it into the sink. He settles onto one of the stools at the counter as I quickly plate up the carbonara.
“When we have our own place, I want a dining room,” I say as I slide a plate towards Killian. His eyes soften as he watches me.
“Why? Do you have plans to cook for me every night?” he asks. I pass him a fork and turn to the fridge.
“Not every night but… but I’d like to. And I’d like to have Dante and Sienna over for dinner. And my friends, and Archer; anyone I owe my life to I guess.” Pouring two glasses of apple juice, I turn back to Killian and find that his gaze hasn’t left me. He drinks me up like a man parched and each time I notice, warmth blossoms around my heart.
It almost keeps the shadows of grief at bay.
“You’re learning we Italins love being thanked with food,” Killian muses with a small smile. He takes his glass and I settle onto the seat next to him, our knees brushing together and causing another skittering of heat across my skin. Killian eyes my apple juice but doesn’t comment; he doesn’t mind that I still drink but doing so in front of him almost seems like a taunt. I haven’t seen him drink since the crash and I want to keep it that way.
“Speaking of being thankful,” I begin, spearing some pasta onto my fork. “Sienna told me she thinks you were the true target that night.”
I start gently, talking about the work he does before I tackle the topic of Blair. Bringing her up never creates a good mood.
“Yes,” Killian nods. “Archer and I interrogated someone yesterday who confessed as much. I killed Grigoriy and it seems like I took down a pretty integral knight.” He scoffs and shovels pasta into his mouth, chewing slowly. I watch carefully to see if he likes it or not.
He doesn’t say so but his next mouthful is bigger.
“He was important?”
“He could have been the fucking Pakhan and I still would have killed him,” Killian growls and a shadow moves over his face as he looks at me. “Because of what he did to you. Status means nothing to me when someone hurts you, Cara. The gates of Hell couldn’t keep me from tearing his throat out again and again if I ever got the chance. Him,anyone. Doesn’t matter. So they can try and come for their revenge, they’ll fail.”
This sudden flush of anger is unexpected but his protectiveness ignites a deeper heat hidden down in my belly and I shift slightly on my stool. Reaching across, I lay my free hand on his still hand, stroking my thumb over his knuckles.
“I know,” I whisper gently and my core tingles “Just make sure you come back to me.” Sienna’s words oflovespark back up in my mind and I force a swallow around a hot dryness that sweeps through my mouth.
Actions speak louder.
Silence falls and Killian shovels another few mouthfuls down as I tackle my own pasta, our hands still connected on the counter.
Killian takes a breath.
“How was spending time with Sienna?”
There are some comforts Killian can’t offer, and I suspect he’s asking in the hope that Sienna provided me with what he could not. Sienna was absolutely right, compassion is a struggle for men like him.
“It was good.” I offer a warm smile and the shadow passes from his face, his chiseled brow relaxing somewhat. “She was very… attentive. We drank, and spent some time with Emilia.”
Killian’s face softens immediately. “She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?”
“Adorable.” I twirl my fork through the pasta, studying the softer lines on his face as his mind takes him to his niece. The closer we become, the easier it is to pick up on thesubtlechanges on his face. He’s not as unreadable as I once thought, not when I know what to look for.
