by Nikki Ash
My heart squeezes at Killian’s words. He couldn’t have worded it better, and if I’m honest, I didn’t even think about any of that. For the first time I wanted something for me and I went after it. I didn’t think about anyone else but myself, and I’m not going to feel bad for that.
Olivia says something I can’t hear and Killian grins. “Okay,” he says. I hear Olivia reply, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. When she stops talking, Killian says, “You have my word.”
He hands me back the phone and leans in to kiss me. “I love you, Mrs. Blake,” he murmurs.
I put the phone back up to my ear, swooning so damn hard. “Hello.” My voice is breathy, and Olivia notices.
“My God, you have it bad.” She laughs. “I’m sorry for freaking out. Killian is right. This was about you two. You deserve to get married how and where you want. I love you, Giselle, and I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.” I’m shocked she’s suddenly so okay with this.
“You’re welcome. Plus, Killian told me I can throw you guys a party when you return,” she says, triumphantly.
“Oh, well…actually, his parents are coming to New York in a few weeks and we’re just going to go to dinner.”
“Sounds fun! But I’m still throwing you a party! Enjoy your honeymoon! Bye!” She ends the call before I can argue.
* * *
After spending the day switching between the pool and the beach, Killian and I head up to our room. Although, ‘room’ doesn’t do the place we’re staying in justice. How Killian managed to pull everything together in such a short amount of time baffles me, but at the same time, it shouldn’t surprise me. Money talks. While Killian is showering, I pull out my laptop to do some work. Killian doesn’t know it yet, but when we return tomorrow night, his condo will be done. I left the key with Olivia so she could let the workers in. Working remotely isn’t as easy as being there in person, but with technology, it makes it possible.
After confirming the painters have arrived and are working, I go through my emails. I notice one from Adrianna and click on it. It’s a forwarded email from her school. Any time I pay the bill, it goes to her school email, so she forwards them to me to keep on record. It’s a receipt indicating the remaining balance on her food card. It’s enough to feed her until graduation. I click on the email and sign into her account. Why the hell is there so much money in there? Did she somehow get approved for some type of financial aid I didn’t know about? I click through the account. Everything was paid, and her denial of financial aid hasn’t changed. I click on next semester and there’s a positive balance. This doesn’t make sense. I pull up my bank account. If they took all that money from me by accident, my account must be in the negative! I do a double take when I see the amount of zeros in the balance of my checking account. Something is wrong here. Even with the sale of the house, I shouldn’t have this much money. I scroll down and find the deposit. Killian Blake. Motherfucker.
I sign in to my student loans, and sure enough everything is paid off. My credit cards. Paid. I am one hundred percent debt free.
“Killian!” I scream across the massive suite, which is more like a small mansion than a hotel room. Instead of responding, he comes out of the bathroom, a worried look on his face. For a second, as he stands there in nothing but a towel hung low around his waist with beads of water clinging to his tanned, perfect body, I forget how pissed I am at what he did behind my back. My eyes fall to the brightly colored tattoos and land on one in particular. I stand and walk toward him to get a closer look. It’s shinier than the others. Newer. How did I not notice this before?
He glances down and grins, knowing which one has gotten my attention. My fingers trace the same quote that is on the back of the heart he gave me. He had it tattooed on his body. The quote. The heart. It’s permanent. Tears burn my eyes as I stare at the words. I want to be mad over the money, but I can’t muster up the anger. My heart is just too damn full.
“When did you get this done?” I whisper.
“Right before we left for North Carolina.”
Gently, I wipe the water off it so I can get a better look at it. “It’s beautiful,” I tell him. I lean in and kiss the broken heart, the one identical to mine. His skin is chilled from the cool air. I trail kisses along the words, which are woven through his other tattoos. Killian’s hand grips the back of my head, his fingers threading roughly through my hair.
I continue peppering wet kisses across his chest and down the center of his torso. His hand stays in my hair, but he doesn’t move a muscle. My eyes meet his as I bend down and undo his towel. When he realizes what I’m about to do, his pupils dilate. Even at only half-mast, his dick is beautiful. My fingers attempt to wrap around his shaft. It’s thick and soft like velvet. I stroke it a few times and it thickens under my touch. Bringing my lips to the tip, I give it an open-mouthed kiss. He smells clean, a mixture of soap and Killian.
I suck on the tip and a bit of precum drips out. It’s salty on my tongue and has me thirsty for more. Killian’s grip on my hair tightens. My gaze goes up, and his eyes, which scream hunger and want, are locked with mine. Lifting his dick up slightly, I run my tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, my eyes never leaving his. When my tongue returns to the swollen head, more cum has leaked out. I lick it clean.
“Jesus, fuck,” Killian groans. I take him completely into my mouth, not stopping until he hits the back of my throat. He growls out as he tries to stop himself from thrusting. I pull back slightly and then take him all the way into my mouth again. With every bob of my head, his dick grows thicker, more cum dripping out. His grunts and groans are getting louder, and in return, I feel myself dripping wet. I know he’s getting close when I feel his dick swell, and I prepare myself to swallow him. But before that happens, my hair is pulled and my mouth pops off his dick.
Killian lifts me from the ground and throws me onto the couch. He tears my clothes from my body, then spreads my legs and pushes into me. I’m drenched and he slides right in, bottoming the hell out. My back arches in pleasure, my butt lifts off the cushion, and I’m moved several inches up. One of his hands takes both of mine and pins them above my head, the other grips my throat to hold me in place. And then he begins to fuck me. I’ve never seen him like this. So overcome with emotion. With every thrust, my climax rises closer to the surface. My ankles lock around his bare ass. His thrusts get deeper, harder, rougher. His eyes never leave mine. My orgasm reaches the edge and spills over. I throw my head back, his grip on my throat tightening. My eyes close and I swear I see stars as I come harder than I ever have in my life.
Killian’s thrusts turn savage, unrestrained, and then he’s growling out his orgasm. His fingers leave my throat and I take in a deep breath, air quickly filling my lungs. His lips land on mine and he kisses me with such love, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
“I’m the luckiest fucking guy alive,” he whispers against my mouth when the kiss ends. “I get to keep you and kiss you and make love to you for the rest of our lives.” He kisses me again and then pulls out.
“You paid off all my debt and deposited a shit ton of money into my account,” I tell him now that my head isn’t fogged up.
His eyes go wide. “You’re my wife.” That’s the only explanation he gives, because to him, me being his wife means he has the right to do what he did. I knew this would happen. It’s who he is.
“Next time you talk to me first.” I give him a stern look that has the corners of his lips twitching to break into a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, clearly happy I didn’t give him more shit. I wanted to. Believe me, I did. But I know what he did came from a good place. He loves me and wants to be, as Olivia would say, my prince charming. I’ve been doing this alone for so long, but I don’t have to anymore. And knowing it’s Killian by my side, I don’t want to.
Twenty-Seven
Killian
The entire drive to the condo, Giselle has be
en quiet and kind of…fidgety. She keeps checking her phone, but when I ask her if everything is okay, she tells me everything is fine. The driver pulls into the parking garage and jumps out to help us with our bags. I grab our suitcases, which are significantly heavier than they were when we left, since we had to purchase beach attire when we arrived in Cozumel, and then Giselle insisted on buying several mementos from the touristy shops to remember our trip.
When we get to the door, she steps in front of it. “I need to go in first. Wait here.” She plucks my key from my fingers, which is strange since she should have her own. A few minutes later, she calls out my name and I take that as my cue to enter. The condo has been completely redone. The walls, which were once a plain off-white are now a deeper shade of cream, with the back wall a dark coffee color. New art fills the walls. The furniture is the same, but a new leather recliner has been added to the mix. New pillows are in the corners of the couches. There’s a new rug. And this is only the living room.
Giselle stands to the side as I walk through the condo. In the hallway, pictures of my friends and family line the walls in thick wooden frames. It’s still masculine, yet it no longer feels cold. She’s added warmth. My bedroom, office, the bathrooms, the kitchen. Every room has been transformed. And it hits me, she did all of this while in a different state and country.
“What do you think?” she asks shyly when I walk back out to the living room.
“I think you need to start your own interior design firm.”
She laughs and it sounds like a sweet melody. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you like it. I wanted your place to feel more like a home for you.”
“You mean for us,” I say, gripping her hips and pulling her into me. She comes willing, her arms encircling my neck. “We’re married, which means you’re moving in here. Now.” Needing to feel her, I give her a soft kiss and she melts into my arms.
“Okay,” she says, but then her body stiffens as if she’s just remembered something. “What about my mom? She’s getting out soon and I can’t move her into here. There are only two rooms.” She frowns. “I can’t kick you out of your own office.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I tell her. “We still have a few weeks.”
* * *
It’s been almost a week since Giselle and I became husband and wife. Nick and Olivia officially put their places on the market and moved into their new home, which is just outside the city. Giselle is living with me in the condo and has spent every day after work organizing our stuff. What she doesn’t know is we won’t be living here for long. I have a plan.
We’re on our way to my brother’s place for my niece’s birthday party. Giselle asked me to stop at the bookstore, so she can run in and grab her a gift. I told her I bought her a gift card, but she just gave me a look and told me that’s not from her.
“Got it!” she squeals as she jumps back into the vehicle. She holds up a wrapped square.
“A book?”
“Not just a book. The book. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” I should’ve known. “I also got her the movie since you told me she loves watching movies with you.” She holds up a matching wrapped gift, only smaller in size.
We arrive at the party, and it’s already in full swing. Kids are running around everywhere. There’s a bounce house, several games, a creepy-looking clown painting the kids’ faces, a cotton candy machine going, and tables of food and drinks. It looks like a damn carnival came to town in my brother’s backyard.
“Killian!” Christina waves us over when she spots us standing there, taking it all in. She waddles her now very-pregnant self over to us and throws her arms around Giselle. “Welcome to the family!” she gushes.
“Thank you,” Giselle whispers, and my eyes dart over to her. Why does she sound like she’s ready to cry? “You look great.” She nods toward Christina’s belly.
“Thank you! Only a few more weeks.” She grins happily, unaware my wife looks like she’s a second away from losing it.
“We’re going to get some food, and then we’ll find the birthday girl,” I tell Christina. Taking Giselle’s hand in mine, I walk us over to the corner where the food is. “You okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, I’ve just never seen anything like this before.” Her eyes glance around the backyard. “Were your birthdays like this?”
“No.” I laugh. “I mean, sure, they were fun. Sometimes at the skating rink or a park, but nothing like this.” Giselle nods absently.
“What about you?” I ask, wanting to know what’s going through her head. She almost looks frightened by the extravagance of the party.
“Addy and I never had a birthday party. At least not one I can remember. My dad didn’t want to overwhelm my mom. Sometimes we would go to dinner or he would bring home a cake, but that’s it. I thought Olivia went all out for Reed’s first birthday, but this party makes it look like hers was reserved.” She laughs.
“Uncle Killian!” Julia squeals. I turn around and she flies into my arms. “You’re here!”
“I am. Happy Birthday! How old are you now? Eighteen?”
“No!” She giggles. “You always say that! I’m five!”
I set her on her feet. “Well, you certainly look older than five.” I shoot her a wink and she giggles some more.
“Come play with me in the bounce house.” She tugs on my hand and I look back at Giselle, whose face is completely devoid of all emotion.
“In a few minutes,” I begin to say, but Giselle cuts me off.
“Go play with your niece,” she insists. “I’ll get us some food.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She nods and smiles, but it’s forced. I want to ask her what’s going on, but in front of everyone at a kid’s birthday party isn’t the right time or place, so instead I allow my niece to drag me to the bounce house. I spend the next few hours playing games, getting my face painted, and—against my brother’s warning that I’m going to pop it—jumping in Julia’s bounce house with her.
Giselle and I eat lunch, and after singing Happy Birthday, have cake. We watch Julia open dozens of presents. The entire time Giselle is here with me in body, but it’s clear her head is somewhere else.
After wishing Julia Happy Birthday one last time and promising Christina and my brother we’ll do dinner soon, we head home. Giselle is quiet, lost in herself. I try to think about what might’ve happened. Could all of this be simply because she’s never had a birthday party? Her birthday just passed, so I make a mental note to throw her a party next year.
We get home and Giselle excuses herself to take a shower. When she gets out, she tells me she’s going to head to bed. Normally, I would follow her, but something tells me she needs some time to sort out whatever is going on with her. So, I tell her I’m going to watch some television. She gives me a chaste kiss goodnight and heads into our room.
A few hours later, I join her and she’s fast asleep. I pull her into my arms, and she snuggles up against me, right where she belongs.
Twenty-Eight
Giselle
It’s Monday morning, and I’m beyond exhausted—mentally and physically. Watching Killian with his niece yesterday was bittersweet. He says he’s okay with us not having kids, but as I watched him, so clearly in his element at the party, I couldn’t help but think, who the hell am I to keep this man from becoming a father? But then I would try to place us in Christina’s and Dylan’s shoes, and the picture wasn’t the same. Because I’m my mother’s daughter and there’s a chance I could one day end up like her—bipolar, depressed, and as a result, emotionally and physically abusive.
After I went to bed last night, I called my sister and we talked for a while. I told her about Killian and me getting married, and she congratulated us. We talked about mom and our childhood. She told me she spoke to her girlfriend about it, and she refuses to allow our mother’s condition to affect her life. She’s determined to live life to the fullest. I wish I could adopt her outlook on the situation,
but it’s hard. Addy has no desire to have kids. She wants to travel and see the world. She’s blissfully away at college, while I’m trying to figure out how to have my own life and take care of my mom when she gets out of Serenity.
I stretch my body out and find Killian’s rolled over on his side and is watching me. I know he’s concerned about my behavior yesterday and wants to ask me about it, but how do I tell the man I love, I’m scared he’s going to miss out on life’s greatest blessings like having children because of me? And I’m petrified he will one day resent me because of it.
Grabbing my cell phone, I check the time and realize I’m late. “Shit!” I hiss, jumping out of bed and running into the bathroom. “I’m late!” I yell to Killian. “How long were you staring at me while the clock was ticking away?” I run the brush quickly through my hair. He laughs a throaty laugh, and I hurl the brush at him. Of course, he catches it and laughs harder.
“I have a ten o’clock appointment!”
“I’ll drive you,” he says, joining me in the bathroom. We go about getting ready, brushing our teeth and washing our faces. We’ve only been living together for less than a week, yet it feels so much longer than that. I always thought when I moved in with a guy it would take some getting used to. Who puts their toothbrush where? Which side of the bed do we each sleep on? Do I cook and clean and he does the dishes? My parents were hardly role models for how married living should go. But with Killian, it all just fell into place so naturally. I’m not sure what it will be like once his football season starts, but at least we have some time before he’s traveling again.
We rush out the door. On the way, he insists we go through a drive-thru for breakfast and coffee. When we arrive, he shuts the car off, and we head to my office. We’re alone in the elevator on the way up. Killian cuts across the small area and cages me into the corner, his body flush against mine. He kisses me with such force and passion, my entire body shivers in pleasure.
