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I try to process everything Killian has said, but he’s pulling me up from the bed and taking me into the bathroom.
“What are we doing?”
“Taking a long, hot shower before dinner,” he rumbles. “You can ask me all your questions while I soap you from head to toe.”
“Oh,” I feel my cheeks heat with pleasure. But as I step into the hot spray and he grabs the soap, I take him up on the offer. “You saw your mother?”
“I did.”
I know how Killian feels about his mother. “And?”
“It was good,” he says as he starts to scrub my body. I thought I might ask him about the house, or the title of lady, but instead, I’m stunned into silence as he shares the lie his father told him.
The pain I feel for him settles like a brick in my chest. So, he wasn’t made from darkness either. He was shaped into it by the man who raised him. It’s not that I don’t understand being at the mercy of cruelty when you’re too young and innocent to fight.
But I hate that’s what made him. He’s bent down washing my legs and I thread my fingers into his hair even has his head rests on my stomach. “Killian,” I hear the pain I feel tighten my voice.
“If we ever have kids,” he starts. “We’re going to bathe them in beautiful light, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” It’s a simple promise, but one I know I’ll keep. “Promise.”
He looks up at me then. “I promise too.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Killian
For the next three days,Chloe and I relax in the South of France. It’s magical. We eat, we walk on the beach, we make love, and we talk.
Not of danger, not of darkness, but of light and hope and plans for the future. Chloe has pleaded sick with all of her professors, and as she never misses class, they’ve given her extensions.
But I try to press upon her that she can just take the classes again next semester. Or switch majors.
She has a gift, one she’s been hiding because she’s been afraid to fail. That’s no way to live, and if there one thing I can give her, it’s the chance to make her dreams come true.
Lazing on the beach, I watch Chloe in the water, admiring the sun-kissed honey of her skin. France is much laxer about tops on the beach, but Chloe leaves hers on. There is no way I’m letting another man see those gorgeous tits. And the tan lines are also fantastic.
She swims into the shore, her hips swaying as she works her way out of the water, twisting her hair up on top of her head.
The beach in front of the house is pretty quiet, but a few men walk by, both giving Chloe a long look.
I get it. She’s stunning.
But I rise from my chair, tattoos on full display as I glare. They get the message and keep moving, but I head for the shore to meet her, determined to station myself at Chloe’s side.
But I’ve no more than reached her side when my phone starts chirping.
I haven’t missed the sound, in fact the break has been restorative. I’m not certain I’ve ever taken a regular vacation before, but this is something Chloe and I are going to do often.
I haven’t felt this alive, this happy, or relaxed for a very long time.
Chloe fishes my phone out of the bag she’s set between our chairs and hands it to me.
I grimace when I see Triston’s name. But I only hesitate for one more second before I answer. “Hello?”
“Killian,” his voice holds a tightness that instantly sets me on edge.
“What’s wrong?”