Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

My mind is still reeling from that conversation with Claire as I storm down the cobblestone street toward where Peter dropped me off. I told him to pick up me around seven, but I realize as I glance down at my watch that it’s well past eight thirty now.

Stopping in front of a closed store, I pull out my phone from my purse. I quickly find Peter’s contact and notice the battery is down to one tiny sliver.

Shit.

Quickly, I punch out a message to him.

I need a ride—

The screen goes black.

“Fuck!” I bark as I squeeze the buttons again, hoping it will magically come back to life. Holding my useless phone in my hands, I glance up to check my surroundings. Surely there has to be a store around here that sells chargers.

But nearly every storefront displays dark spaces and locks on the doors. I forgot nearly everything in this town closes early.

Okay, okay. I’ll just walk back to where Peter dropped me off. I’m sure that’s where he’s waiting. So I continue down the street toward where I think I’m supposed to turn. But when I reach that street, it’s definitely not like I remember. Which means I must have made a wrong turn somewhere.

Panic starts to build inside me. I’m out of cash to call a cab, not that there are any on the streets for me to hail like I did in New York City.

I’m screwed.

Stop panicking, Sylvie. You’ve been in worse situations.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I continue my walk, waiting for any of these street names to appear familiar. But the night is so dark, and nothing looks like it did five hours ago. I never should have let Claire lead me away from the area I knew. I never should have walked off with her at all.

That conversation only frustrated and confused me more than I already am. I may not like Killian like she thinks I do, but I do sympathize with him. Everyone in his life seems to know what’s best for him. No wonder he’s locked himself away. Not a single person in his circle has actually offered to help him. They just want to control him.

And not in the way he needs.

I know that feeling. My parents want me to be someone else entirely. Everything I do and say disappoints them. To the point where I have alienated myself from everyone because it’s easier to be alone than to be less than what someone expects.

But even that gets lonely.

So lonely.

I can only imagine what that’s like for him. I meant every word I said to Claire. Killian just needs a soft place to land. A person who supports him for him. All the bad parts with the good. Someone who gives him room to be himself.

Hell, maybe that’s just what I need.

Because now that I think about it, I never felt that with Aaron. He never supported me without his own judgment. He was just as bad as Anna and Claire, claiming they can fix Killian.

Before I know it, I feel the moisture of tears pooling in my eyes. It must be from the panic of being lost in the city. Or the frenetic energy of that fight with Claire. But once I start crying, I can’t stop. I’m wiping tear after tear from my eyes as I walk angrily through the dark city streets.

The only things that are open are bustling pubs and seedy tobacco stores. I could go in. I’d likely find someone or something to help. But I don’t.

What is going back to the house going to help? I’d still be lost.

The screech of tires jerks me from my thoughts, and I let out a scream. Turning to stare into the bright lights, I back away from the black car, waiting for someone to emerge—praying it’s my driver, Peter.

The door flies open, and I let out a gasp.

Killian’s panicked expression has my skin tingling with goose bumps. “Where the fuck have you been?” he bellows. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. I take a step farther away.

“Killian?” My mind can’t seem to catch up and process what I’m seeing.

“Get in the fucking car, Sylvie,” he shouts in a growly command.

My expression twists in revulsion. “I’m not getting in there with you if you’re going to yell at me like that.”

As he slams the door and marches toward me, my eyes widen even more. “I told you to get in the fucking car, woman. You can either listen to me, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and put you in there myself.” He crowds me against the building with an enraged snarl on his face. I can’t help but notice the way his hands are shaking and his eyes are erratic.

“What is wrong with you?” I reply defiantly, but my tone doesn’t carry the same livid heat it normally does. I’m too confused and shocked to be as angry as he is.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he reaches for me.

Before he can cause a scene and have the police take him to jail, I put up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!” I shriek. “I’ll get in. Just…relax.”

“Relax?” he howls at me. “You have had us worried sick. Peter came looking for you, but you didn’t answer your phone, and he couldn’t find you.”

“I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

“Just get in the fucking car.”

His chest is heaving in a panicked, shallow sort of way. I quickly move around him and rush to the passenger side, climbing in and forcing myself to relax. I didn’t actually do anything wrong. I was just a little late. My phone died. It’s not my fault for getting everyone worried.

As Killian climbs in next to me, I stare at him behind the wheel of the car. It’s such an odd image for me. I’ve only ever seen him at the house. Something isn’t right about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Are you okay?” I mumble delicately as he takes off down the cobblestone road.

His head snaps in my direction. “I’m fine,” he grumbles.

He doesn’t look fine.

But I don’t push the subject. I still can’t get over the fact that Killian is driving a car. He’s not at the house. He…left.

“You’re so…inconsiderate, Sylvie,” he snaps.

I lift my head and give him a terse glare. “Inconsiderate? It was just an accident. I said I was sorry!”

“You had us worried sick.” His hands squeeze around the steering wheel as my temper grows.

“Because I was a little late?”

“Because you don’t think about anyone but yourself. Peter couldn’t find you. And I don’t like seeing my staff upset.”

My gaze intensifies on him. None of this makes any sense.

We stay quiet for the rest of the drive. It feels as if there’s a lump of something in my chest. Emotion I can’t seem to swallow. Pain that won’t go away. Guilt that rots inside me like a cancer.

He’s angry at me because I worried him, and I can’t make sense of it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt someone’s concern so intensely before. And I don’t know if I like it.

When we reach the manor, I barrel out of the car, desperate to run from this feeling inside me.

He stomps after me, clearly not ready to let me go. I slam the door, but he quickly opens it and bounds inside before slamming it himself.

“Sylvie!” he roars after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when he practically chases me up them. There is a shake in my bones, and I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or fear or anticipation.

We are on the precipice of something big. I can feel it, and it terrifies me. Because it means I have to come out of the quiet, safe little bubble I’ve been living in.

I turn on my heel and shout back at him. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop being an insolent brat!”

Stepping up another few stairs, he stops two away from me. I’m just barely as tall as him at this level.

“Why am I such a brat? Because I made you worry? That’s not my fault, Killian! It’s yours. I never told you to care about me.”

I spin around, knowing full well what he’ll do next. That familiar large hand wraps around my arm, hauling me back toward him. My hands go to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, I tighten my fists in his shirt.

We are chest to chest. I’m staring into his eyes blazing with fury as one of his hands grabs the back of my neck and brings my face close enough to brush our lips together.

“You make me so angry,” he mutters.

I manage one desperate gasp before his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss isn’t anything like our last two kisses. Those were performances. This is real.

Our tongues collide in a needy tangle of desire. He bites on my bottom lip, and I scratch his arm through the flannel of his shirt. The grip on the back of my neck tightens as he pulls me even closer, devouring my mouth and making me forget why I shouldn’t be doing this.

I try to tell myself I don’t like Killian. I hate him. But the argument is so weak. It fades away on a breeze in my mind while my body seems to be caught in a storm of passion.

Without breaking the kiss, he lays me on the steps and moves his mouth from my lips down to my jaw. I let out another gasp as the rough texture of his beard scratches my neck. His kisses are brutal, much like his attitude toward me.

He’s not afraid of breaking me. He knows I can take it.

In a frenzy, he works off my coat and scarf. My fingers dig into his hair, dragging him closer as my legs part, allowing him space to settle between them.

The size difference between us is even more alarming in this position. My thighs are pressed as wide as they go while he grinds himself against me, and I let out a needy yelp.

I drag his mouth back up to mine and kiss him even harder. I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel. I want to douse this fire that’s been burning for so long.

He lifts himself from my body and moves his hands to the button of my jeans. Those large fingers work the zipper down, and I lift my hips, eager to shed my clothes. As soon as I feel the cool wood of the stairs on my ass, I shiver in anticipation. This is all moving way too fast. But I don’t want to stop it.

My pants don’t go far. They barely reach my knees before Killian moves downward and latches his mouth around my sex. I grab his hair again and let out a squeal of surprise. My arousal intensifies, exploding inside me as soon as I feel his warm mouth on my clit.

But this angle is too difficult, and I can’t spread my legs for him, so he sits back up and starts tearing at my boots as if he’s overcome with the need to get between my legs.

I pull at his shirt, and he takes a break from untying my laces to tear the long-sleeved flannel off. Touching his bare chest and shoulders with my hands is intoxicating. With every graze of his skin, I need more.

He finally works my boots off. Then he strips my pants off in one violent motion.

And then that’s it. Just like that, I’m lying naked from the waist down on the stairs, spread bare for him like a meal on the table. It’s unnerving and a little scary.

But my body is drunk on lust, so I reach for him. Without a second of hesitation, he drops to his knees a few steps below me and buries his face between my legs. Wrapping one arm around my thigh, he loudly devours me, sucking and licking every sensitive inch.

The other arm reaches up to my breast, tugging my shirt open enough to pinch the tight bud of my nipple. I suck in through my teeth, thrown off by the sensation.

My spine arches, and my lungs desperately try to suck in air, but it’s useless. I’m helpless against him. I clench my fingers around the steps, and I close my eyes as I let him take my body.

I want to scream his name. I want to beg him not to stop. I want to look into his eyes as he pushes his tongue inside me, but I don’t do any of it. Killian has his mouth in the most private, intimate part of me, and I’m not ready to face what this means.

I just want to come. I want to take the orgasm he gives me. And I want him to feel how much I love it.

Before I fly over the edge of pleasure, I grab the hand that’s cupped around my breast, and I pull it to my mouth. I’m so caught up in the passion that I don’t even know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. I love the way his fingers feel in mine as I wrap my lips around the middle digit. Softly I suck and lick, mirroring his actions between my legs.

My climax builds so quickly that I barely have a chance to prepare myself. On a quick inhale, my body explodes in pleasure, and I bite down on his finger, hearing him howl against my sex. I only have enough air left in my lungs to groan out a feral sound of pleasure.

He tears his hand from my mouth, moving it to my throat and holding me there as I’m assaulted by wave after wave of sensation. I see stars as my body is rolled through the climax. Over and over and over again. It pulses through me for an impossibly long time until it feels like I can’t take it anymore.

I collapse on the stairs when it finally ceases. He pulls his mouth away, and I can hear him gasping.

We both seem to surrender to the moment together. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves.

After a while, I slowly sit up. He’s facing away from me, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging forward. My clothes are strewn over the stairs in a mess.

Part of me wants to reach for him, but that fear of facing the truth resurfaces, and I hold myself back. Instead, I quickly gather my things and quietly, without a word, tiptoe up to my room and shut the door.