by K. L. Ramsey
“Your boyfriend?” he asked.
“He used to be. We broke up about three months ago and I think he left some in the fridge,” she said. He rummaged through the top of the refrigerator and pulled three beers out and grinned over at her, making Viv giggle from the goofy triumphant look on his face.
“Found them,” he said. He set everything down on the table and rummaged through her cabinets looking for a glass. Viv handed him her wine glass and finished putting the food on the table. “So, you want to go over the rest of the rules?” he asked. “I’ve got the first memorized,” he teased.
“Shower schedule,” she said.
“Yep,” he agreed, pointing to his forehead, his long dark hair framing his beautiful face. “It’s in the vault,” he said. “What’s the next one?”
“How about we let each other know if we will be entertaining,” she said, using air quotes to frame the word “entertaining”. “I don’t mind you bringing a woman back here but I ask that you don’t have an endless parade of them trudging through the house.”
“Endless parade of women, hmm.” He stroked his beard as if he was envisioning all of those women and she giggled.
“Okay Casanova,” she said. “You get my meaning though, right?”
“Sure, no three or more-somes—got it.” He smiled and winked at her and Viv shoved a bite of chicken into her mouth to keep from groaning at the idea of Cillian bringing a woman back to the house. He was a grown man who most likely felt like he had some time to make up for with the female race, but she didn’t want to have to bear witness to the whole thing. She wanted to volunteer to help him blow off some much-needed steam but that would be foolish. It had been months since she had sex with someone or something besides her vibrator and breaking her dry spell with an employee was a horrible idea.
“Rule three,” she said, clearing her throat to continue. “I’m not a maid or a chef,” she said.
“I don’t know Viv,” Cillian spoke up. “This chicken is pretty fantastic.”
“Well, thanks for that, but I don’t want to have to clean up after you more than you probably don’t want to do so after me,” she said.
“Right—don’t be a slob or a douche,” he said.
“Are you taking any of this seriously? I feel that you aren’t.” Viv looked him over, hoping for stern but knowing she fell short by his amused expression.
“Sure,” he said. Cillian reached across the table and took her hand into his. “I take the fact that I was a stranger to you this morning when you literally bumped into me and gave me a job—very seriously. You’ve given me a place to stay and that is also something I take seriously. Joking around is my way of hiding my emotions. Maybe I should have shared that earlier—it’s one of my many flaws.”
“You must be a hoot at funerals then,” she teased. He rubbed his thumb over her hand.
“I’ve only been to one and I was a mess. I couldn’t stop laughing and everyone thought there was something wrong with me.” Viv had only attended two funerals herself. She thought back to her mom’s funeral and how awful it was. She thought she would never feel so much sadness but she was wrong. Losing her grandmother nearly did her completely in.
“Were you close to the person?” Viv asked.
“He was a friend and it was a long time ago—when I was practically a boy back in Ireland,” Cillian admitted.
“Your parents are still alive, then?” Viv prodded. She knew she was possibly sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. She justified her inquisition by remembering that she was effectively Cillian’s landlord and had a right to know at least something about him.
“No,” he whispered. Cillian pushed his half-empty plate back from where he sat and Viv felt like an ass for prying into his personal life.
“Sorry,” she said. “Forget I even asked.”
Cillian shrugged. “It’s fine. My parents went back to Ireland when I was in my early twenties. They were only in America for about seven years and they missed home so much, my dad decided to move back. I thought I was big shit and when he begged me to go home with them, I refused. If I had just agreed, my life would have turned out so differently.”
“How?” Viv asked. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table, fixated on the beautiful man sitting next to her.
“Well, as I said, I thought I was the shit. My father asked his friend, Savage, to keep an eye on me but I was quite the handful. I tried to join Savage’s motorcycle club and when he turned me down, I looked elsewhere for acceptance. Let’s just say that was the beginning of the end.”
“I’m sorry,” Viv whispered.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. It was all my doing. My dad died shortly after he got back home—heart attack. I was a stubborn ass and refused to go to Ireland for the funeral. Me not showing up broke my mother’s heart and sent me into a downward spiral. One bad decision led to another and before I knew it, I ended up in prison. I found out my Ma died a few years later from cancer. I didn’t even know she was sick.”
Viv couldn’t help herself. She slid her chair closer to Cillian’s, resting her hand on his forearm. She wanted to give him comfort but wasn’t sure just how far he’d let her go. “I’m so sorry, Cillian,” she whispered.
“My mom died when I was a little girl and my dad couldn’t seem to get a handle on life after her death. He took off and my Gram finished raising me. I know what it feels like to lose people you love but I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you having to go through all of that from prison.”
“Again, ending up behind bars was my own making,” Cillian said.
“It still sucks,” she admitted. “But, that’s the thing with life,” she said. “You can second guess it all you want but you can’t go back and change the past.”
“No, you can’t,” he agreed. “How about you, Viv? You have anything you second guess and like another chance at?”
That was something she never let herself do—wonder about what-ifs. Her life hadn’t turned out so bad but she did see it going in another direction. Maybe one that involved a husband and kids but she still had time for all of that.
“Not really,” she admitted. “I’m pretty happy.”
“You wouldn’t change anything?” he asked.
“Um, well, I’d like to get married someday and have a couple of kids,” she said. Viv had never told anyone else that.
“That sounds nice,” he said. “When I was doing my time, I never allowed myself to hope for things like that.”
“And now?” Viv asked.
“Now that I’m out, I’ve started giving it some thought. I’d like a few kids but settling down right now seems like a pipe dream. Not many women out there can overlook my record.” Cillian pulled his arm from under her hand and slid his plate back in front of him, taking a bite of his food.
“I have,” she almost whispered. “Looked past your record, that is.” Her voice was so quiet, she wondered if he had heard her but his stunned expression and nod let her know he had.
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 bu
t 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.
“You’ve been out for a week now,” she said. He knew she was fishing but she wasn’t going to catch anything. He wondered who had hurt Viv that she had such trust issues, but that would be a question for another time.
“A week is hardly enough time to meet a woman and a prostitute just doesn’t appeal to me,” he admitted.
“Yes,” Viv breathed and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Yes, what?” he questioned, trying to keep up with their conversation through his haze of lust.
“Yes to whatever you want,” she whispered. Viv leaned against him and gently brushed his lips with her own. Her’s were so soft and when she gently tugged on his beard and demanded he open for her, he groaned into her mouth. He had forgotten just how soft a woman felt pressed up against his body, or how good they smelled and tasted.
Kill pressed her up against her counter and she straddled her legs around his waist. He couldn’t help himself, he thrust his cock against her belly and she hissed out her breath. “You feel so fecking good, Darlin’,” he growled.
“You do too,” Viv said. “This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had but I’m not sure I care.” Kill stopped kissing her and lowered her to the ground, taking a step back from her body. “What the hell?” she questioned.
“I don’t want to be your worst idea,” he said. “We can’t do this if you feel it’s a mistake,” he said. “I won’t be anyone’s mistake.”
“That’s not what I meant, Cillian,” she said. “You aren’t a mistake and I would never think that. You are my employee and what if things don’t work out between us? I have a diner to think of.”
“I get it,” he said, even though he didn’t. His cock was protesting that he had stepped away from the soft, willing woman and he had to admit, he agreed. “What if we made a pact?” he offered. Kill was always good at thinking on his feet. It’s what kept him alive all those years behind bars.
“What kind of pact?” she asked, crossing her arms over her impressive cleavage. Kill had to will himself not to look her body over.
“We agree that at work, everything remains strictly professional. You’re my boss and I’m your employee,” Kill began. “But when we get here, we are just two people who are attracted to each other, doing our thing.”
Viv’s smile nearly lit up the kitchen. “Doing our thing? What things would we be doing?”
“Um, you know—things. Like what we were just doing,” he said. It had been so long since he was with a woman, he almost felt shy talking about sex. Hell, he was never shy when it came to women or talking dirty to them. He had lost his virginity at age fourteen when he convinced one of the town’s girls to “see him off properly” before he headed to America. He used that line quite a few times to get laid before he and his family headed to their new home. Girls seemed to eat up the fact that they’d know someone in America but he never wrote or called any of them, as he had promised. He never talked to any of them again.
Once he got to America, his sex life was even better. American females seemed to love his accent and he learned how to lay it on thick when he needed to. He used his accent and his looks to his advantage. Getting women to agree to fall into bed with him was just one of the perks of picking up and moving with his family. It made having to start life all over in a foreign land a little easier and a whole hell of a lot more fun. He needed to remember his game or he wa
s going to have to watch the sexiest woman he’d seen in a very long time, walk away.
“You know you can say sex,” Viv teased. “We are two adults and I’m pretty sure neither of us is a virgin.”
“Right,” he agreed. “So, what do you say—a pact then?” He held out his hand for her agreement and she smiled and took it, giving him a yank into her body and wrapping her arms back around his waist.
“If I remember correctly, we were about here,” she said.
Kill nodded and pushed her back up against the counter so she could straddle him again. “I think this feels about right,” he teased. He wasn’t sure how they would make any of this work but he’d worry about all the logistics later. Right now, all he wanted to do was sink balls deep into Viv’s sexy body and make her yell out his name as many times as humanly possible.
Yeah—he’d worry about the rest tomorrow.
VIVIAN
“Bedroom?” Cillian said between kisses. He had stripped her down to her bra and panties and she said a silent prayer that she was wearing a good set and not one of the ones that made her look like an escaped lunatic.
“Up the stairs to the right,” she said. Her body felt about ready to burst into flames. She was consumed with raw need and passion she hadn’t felt in some time. Viv was completely wrapped around his body, straddling his impressive erection as Cillian effortlessly lifted her into his arms. He carried her up the stairs and pushed his way into her messy bedroom.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” she said, suddenly distracted by her mess. “I don’t usually do things like this—you know sleep with men I just met.”
“God, I hope not,” Cillian said. He was kissing his way down the column of her neck, nibbling and sucking as he went, and she was pretty sure she’d be wearing his mark in the morning. “I don’t give a feck about your room or how tidy it is,” he growled. “I just want you naked and underneath my body.”
