As Dust Dances ~ Samantha Young

by Young, Samantha

  Shouldn’t that be a cold reminder of what he is to you, Skylar?

  But it wasn’t.

  Shit.

  As soon as the cab pulled up to my building, I muttered a thanks to the driver and a goodbye to Killian. I slammed the door behind me and got out, shock freezing me on the sidewalk as I watched Killian emerge from the cab too.

  The driver pulled off, leaving us staring at each other on the street.

  Fierce need burned in Killian’s eyes.

  Almost pleading.

  Longing.

  Mirrored desperate want.

  I guessed we were both done fighting this, then.

  A deep thrill moved through my lower belly and that slick heat got a whole lot slicker and hotter between my legs.

  We fell into step beside each other and I unlocked the main door with shaking hands. He held it open for me and I moved past him, my breasts brushing against his chest. His breathing faltered, as did my own. When we stepped into the elevator, the oxygen seemed to thin. All you could hear was our shallow breaths.

  My fingers itched to reach for him, but I held onto some restraint, even though the urge to rip off his shirt was extremely powerful.

  I trembled so hard to get the key in the apartment door that Killian covered my hands with his and helped me. For a moment we stood there, his hand wrapped around mine, the heat of his body at my back. I wanted to ask what the hell we were doing, thinking, but I was afraid it would shatter this. That it would make us overthink ourselves out of it.

  And I didn’t want to think.

  I wanted to feel.

  I pushed the door open and strode into the apartment, dropping my purse and key on the side table as I passed it, listening as he closed and locked the door behind us and followed me into the sitting room. Standing with my back to him, feeling him everywhere as if he were wrapped around me, even though he was on the other side of the room, I gazed out at the dark river.

  As soon as I turned around, everything would change.

  I had a moment of hesitation and then, “Skylar?”

  And that was all it took. Him saying my damn name in that sexy as fuck voice.

  I whirled around, letting exactly how much I wanted him blaze from my eyes. His hands clenched at his sides and his nostrils flared.

  Then we rushed each other. Our bodies collided seconds before our mouths did.

  It wasn’t a sweet romance-movie kiss.

  It was lips, tongue, need.

  Killian’s hand fisted the short strands of my hair as he held my head to his; my fingers bit into his biceps. I grasped onto him for what was nothing short of a ravaging.

  The kiss tasted of longing, frustration, desperation, and punishment. A punishment of each other for having feelings we knew we shouldn’t have.

  I whimpered against his tongue as his other hand gripped my ass hard to pull me against his thick erection.

  The sound made Killian grind his hips harder into me. He ripped his mouth from mine to ask on a groan, squeezing my ass, “Where the hell did this arse come from?”

  I laughed, reaching for his face, wanting his lips back. “I grew it just for you.”

  His chuckle rumbled in my mouth as we kissed harder, the need inside me flaring toward combustion.

  I needed him inside me.

  I didn’t want foreplay. Or to be teased and stretched and taunted.

  I wanted to be filled. Overwhelmingly filled. I wanted him inside me. Now.

  Fumbling for the button on his jeans, I made that very clear.

  Then we were on the floor, hands pawing and ripping while lips and tongues found any naked spot they could find. I’d frantically shoved Killian’s shirt off but before I could get to his T-shirt, he was pushing the hem of my dress up. His longer fingers curled around the elastic waist of my tights and he tugged so wildly, I heard them tear.

  Neither of us cared as he yanked them and my underwear down my thighs. They got caught around my boots and Killian cursed as he managed to yank one boot off along with the torn leg of my tights and underwear.

  But as he struggled with the other, my patience fled. “Fuck it,” I panted. “Just get inside me. Killian, now.”

  Whether it was my saying his name or my pleading or both, he abandoned the other shoe and moved back over me. His kisses were even hungrier as I fumbled to pull the zipper down on his jeans.

  He slipped his hands between my legs, sliding his fingers into me. The wet he found there made him grunt into my mouth. He tore his lips from mine and my chest rose and fell in frenzied breaths as he stared into my eyes with more hunger than any man ever had.

  And the fact that it was Killian looking at me like that only increased my desire.

  “You’re soaked.” His face hardened with need and he sat up straddling me, the movement forcing my hands to fall to my sides. I watched him, watched his shaking hands, all composure gone, as he tugged out his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open impatiently, and removed a foil package.

  Anticipation made me squirm beneath him as he threw away the wallet and tugged the zipper on his jeans down the rest of the way. He never broke eye contact as he shoved down his jeans and boxers just far enough to release his thick, swollen erection. It saluted me as he tore open the condom packet.

  My fingers clawed the carpet beneath me. Every second he took felt like torture. But to be fair, he rolled that condom on in record time and fell between my legs, his elbows braced on either side of my head as he kissed me.

  I let my legs fall open, wide, and as he nudged against me, I moaned into his mouth only to break the kiss to beg. “Killian.”

  He pushed into me. Hard.

  My desire eased his way considerably but he was big, thick, and that overwhelming fullness I’d been desperate for shot electric sparks of pleasure down my spine.

  I needed more.

  “Killian,” I breathed, sliding my hands down his ass, pushing his jeans further out of the way so I could curl my fingers into his silken, hard muscle.

  “Fuck, Skylar,” he growled, his head bowing into my neck as he pushed up onto his hands and moved his hips.

  If everything was out of control before, it turned to animal chaos. Everything we were, wanted, and needed, centered around the hot, fast, hard drive of him inside me. My hips rose in shallow thrusts to meet his, my cries filling his ears as his groans filled mine.

  I held onto him so fiercely, I probably left bruises.

  The tension inside me tightened, tightened, tightened every time he pulled out and slammed back in. So full. So overwhelmingly full.

  It was bliss.

  Coiling bliss.

  “I’m close,” I gasped.

  He reached for my thigh, wrapping his big hand around it, and pulled it up against his hip, changing the angle of his thrust.

  The tension inside shattered, lights flickering behind my eyes as I flew to some before unknown physical nirvana. I think I might have screamed.

  It rolled through me, my inner muscles rippling and squeezing around Killian. His hips pounded faster against me and then momentarily stilled before he cried out my name, his grip on my thigh bruising as his hips jerked with the swell and throb of his release.

  As his climax shuddered through him, he let go of my thigh and slumped over me. I felt his warm, heavy weight and closed my eyes, enjoying the sweetest, most contented satisfaction I’d ever felt.

  Our labored breathing filled the apartment.

  My heart was thumping so hard.

  Finally, the blood rushing in my ears calmed and I became fully cognizant of our situation.

  I was sprawled on the living room floor with Killian on top of me, between my legs, still inside me. My dress was pushed up around my waist, my underwear and ripped tights were stuck around my right ankle because I was still wearing a shoe, and Killian was still fully dressed.

  It had been frantic.

  Animalistic.

  A base need to have him inside me after weeks of foreplay.


  And it had been the best sex I’d ever had.

  So I lay there hoping he wasn’t going to ruin it by letting reality intrude.

  Finally, Killian lifted his head so our lips were inches from each other’s. He wore the amused, soft look of a man who had been deeply satisfied. It made my lips twitch with relief.

  “Well, we’re definitely doing that again.”

  Laughter bubbled out of me, making me shake beneath him. We grinned at each other as I replied, “Yeah, we are.”

  * * *

  “BLAME IT ON THE DRESS.”

  I rolled my head to the side to stare at Killian incredulously. “Seriously? It was the dress?”

  We’d graduated from the living room floor to my bed. I’d changed into a tank top and fresh underwear while Killian cleaned up in the bathroom.

  When he came out, his eyes drank in the sight of me sitting on the bed waiting for him. He lingered on my bare legs and then shucked off his shoes. The T-shirt followed, and I got all warm and tingly again as he removed his jeans. I’d felt his lean muscle while holding on to him for dear life as he moved inside me, but seeing it made my girly bits very happy.

  Although broad-shouldered, he wasn’t bulky muscle. I knew that. But I hadn’t anticipated how defined his physique would be. That six-pack. Dear God, I might swoon. That came from more than swimming. The man had to work out every day to look like that.

  “Enjoying the view?” Killian asked, smirking as he clambered over me and onto the other side of the bed. He laid back on my pillows, one arm stretched above his head, and watched me.

  It was weird how comfortable this was.

  I’d stretched out beside him. “I am. I’m also waiting for you to start freaking out. What happened to that tight control of yours?”

  That’s when he said, “Blame it on the dress.”

  “Seriously? It was the dress?”

  “It was the dress.” He nodded, completely unabashed.

  I wrinkled my nose. “God, even smart men can be so easily undone by a dress.”

  He studied me, suddenly serious. “Only if it’s on the right woman.”

  Stupidly pleased by that, I bit my lip to stop my huge grin.

  Killian’s eyes dropped to my mouth and darkened.

  “So, you saw me in the dress and all your rules and ideas about us went out the window?”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face and let it drop limply at his side. He looked resigned. “I can’t fight how I feel about you anymore. Clearly. It’s fucking exhausting anyway.”

  Butterflies fluttered in my belly. I wanted to ask him what exactly he felt, but I wasn’t brave enough. Instead I teased, “And how long have you been planning to seduce me with your eye smolder?”

  His lips twitched. “Eye smolder?”

  “Yes. Eye smolder.” I turned onto my side, bracing my elbow on the bed and my hand on my head. “You smoldered me.”

  “I didn’t know that was one of my special powers.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “I didn’t plan on anything. You know I didn’t.”

  “I guess what I really mean is . . . how long have you wanted to throw me on the floor and fuck my brains out?”

  His brows drew together. “Is that what I did?”

  “Don’t worry, I liked it. Or did my almighty orgasm not make that clear?”

  He flashed me a wicked grin. “No, that was very clear. And I don’t know. I don’t know when admiring you, your music, turned into something else.”

  I nodded because I understood. “I don’t know when it turned into this either. But it happened. And you haven’t looked at me blankly and told me it can’t happen again . . . so what now?”

  “Do you want me to say that?”

  “No. I want it to happen again,” I admitted. “I feel . . .” How much did I say without scaring him away?

  Killian reached out and drew his fingertips softly down my cheek to trace my lips. “You feel?”

  I held his gaze and whispered, “I feel.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed briefly and then sat up, sliding his hand around the nape of my neck to pull me to him. This time his kiss was soft, lush, and so sweet, I found myself melting into him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and shifted so I was straddling him. He wrapped his arm around my back, pulling me flush to his body. I luxuriated in the joy of being held against the solid, strong weight of him.

  We kissed. Learning every curve of each other’s lips, every dance of our tongues, our taste.

  It was the first time in forever that I didn’t feel alone.

  “What are we doing?” I panted as we finally broke for breath. I leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes, sending a wish out to the universe that this moment could last forever.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, giving my waist a squeeze. “I only know I don’t want to stop.”

  “But the . . .” I didn’t want to mention the album. I didn’t want the reminder of our bargain.

  “We could keep it a secret.” He pulled back so I had to look into his eyes. “See each other in secret until the album is out and the dust settles. Then no one will give a fuck if we’re seeing each other. My uncle won’t care as long as we’re making the label money. And I’m not famous, Skylar. Your fans won’t care.”

  He was looking that far ahead? This really wasn’t just sex to him? The question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  Killian frowned at me in displeasure. “Do you really think I’m the kind of man who would risk my career and yours for a simple fuck?”

  I shifted on his lap, feeling the evidence of his desire. “Attraction can be a powerful thing. And I know about Yasmin and your many nonstarter relationships.”

  His scowl deepened to a glower. “Who told you about Yasmin?”

  “More to the point,” I loosened my hold on him, “why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  His grip on me tightened, pulling me back into him. “Because it was a casual relationship that didn’t mean anything and didn’t go anywhere.”

  “And you didn’t want me to know you had a girlfriend?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry that there was a woman waiting for me to come home when I wanted you to be in the moment with me, working on your songs. And she wasn’t waiting on me to come home because we never lived together.” His hand tightened around my nape, his expression fierce. “I broke it off with her when I realized that the first person I thought of every morning when I woke up was the same person I thought of last before I went to sleep.”

  Realization made me melt into him. “I knew you cared about me.”

  “What I feel is a little stronger than that, Skylar.” He stared at me with pure need. “You’re mine.”

  A thrill shot through me, tingles and heat prickling my skin. I shook my head, holding staunchly to my independence. “Micah used to say that too, but I don’t belong to anyone.”

  He let out a low growl, like a freaking caveman, and flipped me onto my back, pressing me into the bed. “If you were his, my dick wouldn’t have been inside you thirty minutes ago. You’re mine, Skylar Finch. I think somehow I’ve always felt like you were mine. That’s why I didn’t go after Jonathan Welsh myself because I would have killed him,” he hissed. “Killed him for hurting you.”

  “Killian . . .” I shook my head, feeling unsure, confused, wondering why a part of me wanted to scream in revolt while another was howling with exultation.

  “And I’m yours,” he softened, brushing his mouth gently over mine. “Yours.”

  Mine.

  Hadn’t I thought that before? Hadn’t I thought that in the bar when those girls were eyeing what was mine?

  I slid my hands up his shoulders to clasp his familiar face. My feelings for him were complicated. I had feelings I didn’t want to acknowledge because they would ruin the bliss of being with him like this. Of having Killian O’Dea look at me like I meant the world to him.

  A man who did
not love easily.

  And he wanted to belong to me.

  “You’re mine,” I agreed. “I’m yours.”

  Killian kissed me hungrily in answer. A kiss that led to us shedding our clothes so he could slide inside me slowly and deeply. We took our time. We touched and stroked and kissed.

  While he moved inside me, he stared deep into my eyes, and although the words were never said . . . I felt loved.

  SO ATTUNED TO KILLIAN, I knew even in sleep when he was pulling away from me. The bed moved and the sound of rustling filtered into my conscience.

  I blinked slowly, my eyelids feeling heavy like I hadn’t had enough sleep, and I turned my head on the pillow to see Killian sitting on the bed in his jeans, tugging on his shoes.

  Light filtered into the room through the split in the curtains.

  Was he not going to wake me?

  Did he regret last night and had decided to sneak out?

  I groaned sleepily and sat up, not about to let him have the satisfaction of hightailing it out of the apartment without an awkward confrontation.

  He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled softly. It made my tense muscles relax. “I was trying not to wake you.”

  I pushed my fingers through my hair to get it out of my face. “What time is it?”

  Killian stood and rounded the bed to pick up his T-shirt. “Back of eight.”

  Hearing the disgruntled tone, I couldn’t help but grin. “Have I fucked with your schedule, Mr. O’Dea?”

  He gave me a wicked grin that I was quickly growing addicted to and then tugged his T-shirt over his head. “Quite literally.”

  “What time do you usually get up in the morning?”

  He hesitated, as if unsure about telling me. Then, “Five.”

  Horrified, I gaped. “Why?”

  Killian chuckled. “I like to swim and then hit the gym before my day starts.”

  “I knew it.” I eyed him as he came toward me. “No man has a body like yours without working for it.”

  “Aye, well, some of us aren’t lucky enough to wake up as sexy as you without having to work for it.” He braced his hands on the bed in front of me, his dark eyes dancing. I was at the point of squirming under such intense focus when he murmured, “You have the most extraordinary eyes. The first time you really looked at me, I was stunned.”