Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

I toss and turn all night. Even though I had my release, I still feel strung tight. Everything between my legs is red and sore from the scratch of his beard. All night, I find myself touching it, exploring the sensitivity, and remembering what it felt like to have him down there.

The warmth of his mouth. The friction of his tongue.

It’s all too much, like it’s overloaded my system.

And one thing that keeps barraging my mind like a storm is the question of why. Why would he kiss me? Why would he touch me? Why on earth did he make me see stars on that staircase without wanting a single thing in return?

He had me feeling so guilty in the car for making him worry. And at the time I was feeling heated and defensive. Now, I’m seeing it clearer. Killian worried because he cared, and I have literally never felt such concern in my entire life.

Have his feelings for me changed?

Have mine?

Getting tangled up in our emotions is a bad idea. Killian still has no idea that being married to me will result in him losing his house. If I start feeling things for him, then I’ll have to start dealing with things like guilt and responsibility. And I’d like to avoid those.

The space between us now feels so potent. Every single inch from my bed to his down the hall might as well be nothing at all. It’s like I can just reach out and touch him, but I don’t. The thought of tiptoeing into his room crosses my mind all night.

What would I even do? Crawl into his bed uninvited? Just climb on his dick like a cat in heat?

What we did today feels like peeking over a wall before quickly returning to our opposite sides. And I’m not going to lie. After today, I want to go back over that wall. I want more. Not just because the orgasm was great but because, for a moment, I didn’t feel so alone.

But I won’t. I can’t. Getting physical is a bad idea if I want to keep my eyes on the prize. I need to get through this year and get my ten million so I can live the rest of my days in peace.

Don’t do anything stupid, Sylvie.

It’s sometime after three in the morning that I finally jump out of my bed, unable to take it anymore. I march angrily down the hall and burst into his room without a single idea of what I’m doing.

He’s sleeping peacefully in his bed, lying motionless on his back. He doesn’t even stir when I slam the door behind me.

I walk right up to his bed and poke him in the chest. “Hey!” I bellow.

He wakes with a start. When his eyes focus on my form standing near his bed, he lets his eyebrows fold inward with a scowl. Then he turns away from me and closes his eyes like he’s going back to sleep.

“Killian!” I shriek as I shove him again.

“What do you want, wife?” he shouts.

I’m hot with anger, and I let it come flying out of my mouth. “Why did you do that?”

Turning back toward me, he holds his hands up. “Do what?”

“On the stairs,” I reply, exasperated.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he says as he sits up and rubs his eyes.

“We’re not doing that, you know? We’re not a real couple.”

I hear myself. I sound flustered, but right now, I feel flustered. One moment Killian said I meant nothing to him, then he was yelling at me, and then suddenly, he was tongue fucking me. I don’t know if this is what gaslighting is, but I certainly feel like I don’t know my own mind anymore. He’s infiltrated it with desire and passion, so I don’t know where the hatred ends and lust begins.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he lets out a groan. “What on earth are you going on about? We’re not doing what? It was just sex, Sylvie. Would you relax?”

“No,” I snap. “Because I didn’t know you and I were…doing that, and it took me by surprise, and I just want to know why. Why did you do that?”

“Why did I go down on you?” he asks, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Yes.”

His expression is guarded as he stares at me through the moonlight. “Because I wanted to.”

I feel unsatisfied with that answer, and I don’t understand why. “Well, we’re not doing this. Like I said, we’re not really married.”

“Yes, we are,” he replies before folding his arms.

I let out a sigh of frustration. “I mean…we’re not really a couple. So we’re not doing the just-sex thing.”

He scratches his beard for a moment, and I find myself zeroing in on his fingers, remembering the way they felt in my mouth. I wonder if I left a mark from where I bit him.

“Why not?” he asks.

“What do you mean, why not?”

He shrugs. “Why can’t we have a physical relationship? We are married. We have a long cold winter ahead of us with nothing better to do.”

Suddenly I imagine just how fun this house could be if I weren’t constantly secluded in the library and living room.

But no. I just went over this in my head. If I get physical with Killian, feelings will surely get muddled, and that’s a bad idea.

I quickly shake the thought away. “No.”

“Is that really why you came in here and woke me up? To tell me we wouldn’t be doing that again?” he asks, and I hear the skepticism in his voice.

“Yes,” I reply, standing my ground.

To my surprise, he responds with a low, grumbly, “Come here.”

My heart rate picks up. By the time I answer him, it’s too late.

“No,” I murmur half-heartedly.

He lets out a growl. “Come here now. ”

My brow furrows, and I take an angry step toward him. “You can’t talk to me like that! I don’t have to listen to you.”

In a flash of movement, he reaches out and grabs my hand, hauling me to the bed and flipping me over his body so I’m lying next to him. Then he rolls his large body on top of me.

“Killian!” I shout.

“You’re all bark and no bite, my wee wife.”

“Oh, I’ll bite,” I reply with fuming anger.

He chuckles down at me as he holds up his right hand. “That’s right. You do. How could I forget?” As he shows me the red line across his middle finger, he uses it as an opportunity to flip me off at the same time.

Suddenly, I feel his heavy weight pressed between my legs. He’s in nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs, and I’m in a simple long T-shirt and a pair of panties. Which I’m realizing now was not wise to come to talk him in.

“You’re telling me this wouldn’t be nice?” he asks as he grinds his hips against my core.

By some miracle, I hold in the moan that wants to escape.

Because it does feel nice. It feels very fucking nice.

“No,” I reply through clenched teeth.

“Don’t lie, mo ghràidh.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ignoring my protest, he continues. “We could do this all winter. Fuck like animals all day long. With nothing better to do. You can still hate me. Call me a brute and an arsehole, and I’ll call you a cow and selfish bitch. But with lots and lots of orgasms.”

He grinds against me again, and I fail to hold in my reaction this time. A tiny whimper escapes, and I know I’m done for. Any argument is now weak and meaningless.

“I’ve been tested,” he groans against my neck.

“So have I,” I reply. “And I’m on the pill.”

“See?” he murmurs. “There’s nothing stopping us.”

“I do hate you,” I reply, my voice cracking on the high pitch.

The hard length of his cock slides against my clit, and I fight the urge to wrap my hand around his shaft just to feel the size of it. Based on what I sense now, it’s impossibly large.

“I hate you too, darling,” he replies, grinding again.

I whimper again.

Our eyes meet, and I stare into the green orbs, unable to deny that having messy casual sex with a handsome, rich Scottish giant isn’t the worst thing to happen to me. I’d be a fool to turn him down.

He keeps up the grinding, and soon, I start to notice how heated and unhinged he’s getting. His breathing is growing shallow, and his lips part with desire. The stiff cock in his boxer briefs is so hard it hurts as he rubs it eagerly against my clit. But it’s a good pain. A needy, visceral pain that radiates through my entire body.

“I can still taste your cunt on my lips, Sylvie. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His filthy words set me on fire. Any hope of turning back now is lost.

My back arches, and my head tilts backward. “Killian.”

I moan his name like a plea.

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters with his lips near my throat.

“Don’t stop,” I reply.

Reaching down, I rest my hand on the firm surface of his ass. It feels so weird touching him but also so good. How long have I wanted to press my palm to his backside? Squeeze it. Use it as leverage to pull him closer to me.

He grinds harder, and I start to wonder if he’ll settle for this dry humping or if he’ll take the opportunity to slip my panties aside and enter me. I don’t know which one I want at this point.

I love this almost-sex feeling. Having him so close but still not quite where I want him.

My mind is already lost to the sensation. I’m supposed to be stopping this, but I can’t remember why. I just want more.

So I wrap my legs around his hips and hold tight to his ass to grind him harder and harder and harder to a rhythm that makes my body tighten, and my blood flow hotter through my veins.

Angling my face toward him, he quickly latches his lips to mine.

I’ve already committed his kiss to memory. It’s so different than the ones we have to fake. His real kisses are brutal and passionate, biting and nibbling and devouring.

“I’m gonna—”

The words fall off my lips as he kisses me again. When he pulls away, I see the look of ecstasy on his face—the near-climax expression.

“Let me see it again, darling. You come so pretty.”

My hips are moving fast now, tilting and grinding, trying to keep up with the momentum of his hard cock. Two thin layers of cotton are all that separate us, and it feels like we’re striking a fire with them.

I let out a high-pitched squeal when the pleasure seizes my body in an earthquake of sensation. My muscles clench tight around him, and I let myself drown in the feeling. It’s not as potent as the one on the stairs, but chasing it is half the fun anyway.

His movements pick up speed until I look up to find him shuddering with a look of euphoria on his face. I feel the twitch of his cock against me as he comes, and I stare down between our bodies to watch the way it soaks the inside of his boxer briefs.

We freeze in our spots, him hovering over me. Lifting my fingers, I press them against the muscular planes of his chest. Softly, I touch the chest hair and wait for him to decide this is a terrible idea.

He doesn’t.

He collapses next to me, staring at the ceiling as he catches his breath.

“See?” he mumbles in a quiet drawl. “This could be fun.”

Fun . Fun until he finds out he’s about to lose everything because of me.

“Sure,” I reply softly.

He turns, jumping out of bed and going to the bathroom. I watch him through the darkness as he disappears inside.

“Don’t move,” he barks at me, and I roll my eyes at his order.

“When are you going to learn you can’t just boss me around?” I reply.

He laughs to himself in the bathroom before coming out in a fresh pair of boxers and climbing into the bed next to me.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

I turn on my pillow to face him. “It’s warmer in here with you,” I say as an excuse for why I’m still in his bed.

“Sure it is,” he replies sleepily. “Good night, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” I reply.

“You still hate me, right?” he asks playfully.

“Yes,” I lie. I wish I still hated him, but I have to be honest with myself now. I can’t find a single reason to keep hating him.

“Okay, good,” he says with a yawn. Before long, I hear his breathing change as he falls asleep with me in his arms.

I want nothing more than to sleep, but my mind is reeling. If we do go down this path, could we keep things strictly physical? Sure, I may not hate Killian anymore, but I’m confident I could never come to love him. There are too many things about him I can’t stand. He’s controlling and ignorant, and most of all, I mean nothing to him. Nothing more than a warm body and a means to an end.

Yes, I believe we could keep things strictly physical.

Besides, I don’t have any other choice. When Killian finds out that this marriage was just a scam to steal his house from him, then he’ll really hate me.

As I lie here, I try to remind myself that I don’t care what happens to him after this. We are not in a real relationship. In nine months, I will be gone from this place, and he will continue to mean nothing to me.

I’ll be ten million dollars richer. I’ll no longer be Mrs. Barclay. And everything will be as it should be.