Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

I finally fall asleep, and when I do, I sleep so deeply that I don’t think I move all night. When I peel my eyes open, I’m almost surprised to see Killian’s room. What a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been.

I turn slowly to face him and stare at his sleeping form across the giant bed. He’s lying on his back, his dark-brown hair strewn across the pillow. His beard has grown longer and thicker since I first met him.

For a while, I just lie here and stare at every raw inch of his bare skin as if I’m not normally allowed to see him like this, so I have to sneak my peek when I can. Reaching out, I delicately run my fingers over the muscles of his shoulder and down his bicep.

What is he doing out there in those fields all day that helps him keep this physique? He has the body of a man who I assume frequents the gym, but as far as I know, there’s not one in the house.

My gaze cascades down, over his pecs and abs until his body disappears under the dark green sheet covering his lower half. Last night I got a taste of what he’s hiding in those boxers, and I can’t help but be curious about it now.

Slowly, I lift the sheet and just take a quick peek underneath. All I can see at this angle are his dark boxer briefs and his thick, hair-covered thighs. Dropping the sheet, I find myself smirking.

Killian is really not my type—beefy, broody, and vulgar in every way. So why am I so attracted to him all of a sudden?

Maybe it’s because I can finally enjoy a physical relationship without the worry of whether or not the other person likes me. I know Killian doesn’t like me. It makes things easier. Less about emotions and more about sensations.

And even if feelings were involved—which they’re not—how do I know what Anna and her brothers are planning isn’t really for Killian’s benefit? So what if they’re meddling? They’re trying to help him, which means I’m helping him too.

So, really, my conscience is clear.

As he stirs, I’m pulled from my thoughts and watch to see if he’s about to wake to find me staring at him as he sleeps. When he doesn’t open his eyes, I relax into the pillow.

Suddenly, I’m thinking about his sister and his aunt again. The Hogmanay party is next week. I never answered Anna back about Killian attending, so I assume she gave up on the idea. But I haven’t.

She offered me ten thousand dollars to get him out of the house, and it really can’t be that hard. Now that sex is on the line, I’m sure I can think of something to entice him to go to that party.

Trailing my fingers over his chest, I let them slide down his abs. Then I delicately run a soft line just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. He stirs again but doesn’t wake. Very carefully, I climb over him, straddling his waist and settling my weight on his still-soft cock.

Seriously, what am I doing?

Twenty-four hours ago, I never would have entertained the idea of sleeping with Killian. Now I’m riding him like a horse while he’s still asleep. I’m touching his body as if I have any right to.

He lets out a groan without opening his eyes. Sleepily, he reaches down and grabs on to my leg, holding me in place as he grinds upward against me.

“Killian…” I whisper.

He’s fighting it, keeping his eyes closed as I move slowly on top of him. I feel his cock hardening beneath me. With every passing second, I grow more and more desperate to touch it, feel it in my hand and about a dozen other places.

Being on top like this gives me a sense of power and control that I don’t normally feel with him. He’s so much bigger than me. But I know I could easily slip my hand into his boxer briefs right now and have him completely at my mercy.

That is until his eyes pop open, and he grabs me by the waist, flipping me until I’m on my back and he’s between my legs again. I let out a scream as he does it, but the scream quickly dies as he buries his face in my neck and grinds his erection against me the same way he did last night.

I’m still sore from where his beard scratched my sensitive skin. I can feel it, but it’s a delicious pain that only intensifies the pleasure.

“What a way to wake up,” he groans into my neck.

His large rough hands caress my body, making my thoughts fuzzy. I was going to say something to him…wasn’t I?

But then he lifts my T-shirt and kisses his way up my belly, latching his lips and teeth around the tight bud of my nipple. A breathless gasp escapes my lips as my eyes flutter closed.

What on earth was I going to say?

“Hog-a…something…party.” The stuttered words slip through my lips like a plea.

Killian freezes before lifting up and staring at me in confusion. “What did you say?”

I have to recompose my thoughts. “The New Years party is next week…at your aunt’s.”

His expression turns to a scowl. “You’re bringing that up now ?”

“You’re the one who threw me on the bed,” I argue.

“Because you were riding my dick.”

“Well, I think we should go,” I say persistently. “To the party.”

Scoffing, he climbs off of me and rolls onto his back. We lie there for a moment until he speaks again.

“Why do you care so much about whether I go to a stupid fucking party?” he asks, staring at the ceiling.

“Because your family seems to think you haven’t left the manor in ten years.” Slowly I turn my head toward him. “Is that true?” I ask softly.

“Of course not,” he replies gruffly. I keep my eyes on him as he adds, “More like six.”

I wince. Six years .

Turning on my side, I prop my head on my arm and stare at him. “Why?”

He mirrors my position and stares at me with a bemused scowl. “Why haven’t I left? Because I don’t want to. I don’t like people. I like it here .”

After a deep breath, I reply with a shrug. “Fair enough.” I don’t want to press Killian too much. That’s what his sister does. That’s what they all do. They push and prod and meddle and call it caring. But if he truly hasn’t left the house in six years (before last night), then there must be a reason.

I genuinely wonder if any of them have thought to ask.

“So, let’s prove them wrong and go to the party,” I suggest.

“No.”

I let out a scoff. “Come on.”

When he doesn’t bend, I reach out a hand and touch his chest, letting my finger drift around his pebbled nipple. “I’ll sweeten the deal.”

“Oh yeah? How will you do that?” he asks with a mischievous smirk.

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” I reply, giving him a light shove.

He rolls onto his back. “Whatever you’re thinking, you were probably going to do anyway.”

As he folds his hands under his head, I let my jaw hang and shoot him an offended glare. “Don’t be so cocky, brute. I never wanted you.”

He smiles at me, the dimples on his cheeks barely noticeable through his beard, and I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Yeah, you did. Don’t lie,” he says with so much charm it makes me hate him more.

Pounding the pillow, I scurry off the bed with a huff. “Well, unless you agree to go to that party, nothing is happening.”

“You vindictive bitch!” he calls after me, but I don’t reply. I march down the hall to my room, still biting back my smile.

***

I’m still upstairs, getting dressed in my room, when I hear Killian’s brothers and sister coming in. It’s Christmas Day, which isn’t normally something I celebrate much at home.

Aaron and I rarely exchanged gifts. In fact, I don’t think I bought him anything for Christmas last year, but immediately my mind returns to the leather gloves sitting in my coat pocket downstairs.

I’m not an idiot. I see what’s happening here.

It only took three months, but somehow, I stopped hating Killian and started feeling things that look like—

No. I won’t say it. Not even to myself.

That is simply not an option. Killian and I have no future. Come September, this marriage is over. I’ll have my ten million, and I will have to move on with my life.

That is the thought that has comforted me since I arrived here, but suddenly, it makes me sick to even think.

As I descend the stairs, laughter echoes from the parlor. I can clearly make out Anna’s voice as well as Lachy’s and Declan’s.

Rounding the corner into the room, I smile at the sight of Killian and his siblings gathered on the sofas, smiling and opening presents.

When Anna sees me, her face lights up. “Happy Christmas, Sylvie!” she shouts, coming toward me with a cone-like hat and a popper.

I laugh as she places the hat on my head and pulls me in for a hug. “Merry Christmas,” I reply softly.

There’s a spot on the sofa next to Killian, and I take the seat, carefully glancing in his direction. His arm casually slinks around me, which only strikes me as odd after I remember that everyone in this room knows our marriage is fake. There is no reason to pretend.

“Here, Sylvie,” Anna says as she drops a present in my lap.

“What is this?” I ask nervously.

“Open it,” she replies.

“I…didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts.”

She waves me off. “Don’t worry about that. Just open it.”

As I peel off the paper, I feel sick with guilt. Under the wrapper is a cardboard box, and I lift the lid to find a soft cashmere scarf folded up inside.

“This is beautiful,” I say, pulling it out and letting my fingers slide over the silky weave. “Thank you so much.”

When my eyes meet hers, she sends me a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t get anyone anything.”

Killian squeezes my shoulder. “It’s okay. Really.”

It doesn’t feel okay. I feel like an ass. How was I supposed to know that this was going to be a family occasion? I don’t belong here. I feel like an imposter in someone else’s home. It’s just that my parents never did a conventional Christmas. We did events and parties, and our gift exchanges often took place in the early hours and for never more than fifteen minutes.

“I got you something, too, but you don’t need to feel bad.” Killian stands from the couch and crosses the room to the tree. He takes a small box out and brings it over. My skin grows hot with anxiety as he sets it in my lap.

When I gaze up at him, our eyes meet, and I feel that same pull I felt last night.

I quickly look away. The gift in my lap is wrapped messily, which means he must have done it. He wrapped a present for me.

With a tremble in my hands, I tear off the paper. Inside is a brand-new cell phone. Blinking, I stare at him in confusion.

“I figured I’d replace the one I broke,” he says with humor. I swallow down the emotion rising in my throat, remembering that day all those months ago when I watched a complete stranger shatter my phone with his boot.

“I know you have a new one already,” he replies casually. “But this one has a better battery life, so it won’t die on you while you’re out shopping.”

Lifting my eyes to his face, I meet his stare again. The rest of the room is quiet, and I can feel them watching us.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him. His lip curls in a subtle smirk. “I got you something.”

Jumping up from the couch, I rush over to the entryway where my winter coat is hanging. Digging into the pockets, I find the leather gloves I picked up last night. Staring at the gloves, I instantly remember how things felt so different between him and me just twenty-four hours ago.

I carry them into the living room and set them on his lap. “It’s not much, but I saw them yesterday and…”

My voice trails as his eyes lift to my face. I don’t even recognize us anymore.

He reaches into the plastic bag and pulls out the brown leather gloves. I watch nervously as he gazes down at them, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “I love ’em,” he says.

As he slips his large hand into the glove, I bite back the emotion that rises to the surface. My obsession with his hands only grows stronger seeing them covered in that soft leather.

“Aren’t those lovely,” Anna says with a smile from the other side of the room. When I look up, I see that they’re all watching us.

It makes my skin crawl. Like the walls are closing in.

None of this was supposed to happen.

Suddenly, I feel a strange sense of irritation. Killian has clearly tricked me into feeling something for him I never wanted to. Or maybe it was just from being stuck in this house for so long.

I need to get out. Clear my head.

In a rush, I burst up from the couch. I go into the kitchen, forcing deep breaths into my lungs to stave the rising feeling of dread, like a rat in a cage.

Trying to force myself into a sense of normalcy, I start making coffee, but I can feel the tremble in my hands. As I’m filling the pot with water, a warm hand touches my back.

“What’s wrong?”

I shrug his hand off. “Nothing.”

“I said thank you for the gloves,” he replies defensively.

“I know you did. I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is this about what happened last night?”

Glancing up at his face, I pinch my eyebrows together. “Of course not. We didn’t even have sex, Killian. I’m not going to get all clingy on you.”

Without replying, he arches a brow at me. Feeling his gaze on my face makes me even more uncomfortable.

“Stop staring at me!” I snap before taking the water to the coffeepot.

As soon as I set it down, I let out a sigh. It’s like I can suddenly hear myself, and I sound neurotic.

Holding on to the counter, I let my head hang. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He responds with a soft exhale. “It’s Christmas, Sylvie. You’re homesick, and I’ve not seen you talk to your family once since you got here.”

I let out a huff and laugh. “And I likely never will.”

He takes a step forward. “No one? Not even a friend?”

“My best friend was sleeping with my boyfriend, so no. Not even a friend.”

“Sylvie…”

I hate the pity in his voice. I hate the attention. It makes me want to scream.

“You have us. You’re not alone.”

“Yes,” I bark, slamming my hand on the counter. Then I turn toward him and let out all of the frustration boiling inside me. “Yes, I am, Killian. You’re not my family or my friends. You’re not my husband, and you know it. So can we just stop pretending for one second?”

His expression of sympathy morphs into contempt. “Are we pretending, Sylvie?”

I glower at him. “Of course we are. None of this is real.”

When he only responds with a patronizing nod, I fight the urge to slug him. Why is he trying to push my buttons on Christmas? Why must he be so smug and difficult and handsome and likable?

Who gave him permission to stop being that ignorant prick he was when I first showed up?

“Fine, Sylvie. I’ll stop pretending.”

He folds his arms in front of himself and the room grows silent as we stare at each other. There’s something about the way he just said that that’s making me doubt the sincerity.

“You were pretending…weren’t you?” I ask carefully.

He takes a long menacing step toward me. “Of course I was. You mean nothing to me, remember?”

My teeth clench as I fight the sting of those words. Feigning indifference, I scoff loudly, but he only takes another step closer. “I don’t believe you,” I reply.

“And I mean nothing to you, right? That’s why you bought me those gloves.”

Pressing my hands to his chest, I apply force as I stare up at him in shock. “You’re the most insufferable asshole—”

Ignoring my onslaught of curses, he pins my body against the counter. Taking my wrists in his hands, he holds them behind my back. No matter how much I struggle to get out of his hold, I can’t.

What’s worse is that I stop trying. Because I love the feel of his body against mine. I love the way he quiets my anxious mind.

And I hate how much I love it.

When his face is just inches from mine, he softly whispers. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re out of your mind if you think all of this has been pretending. Even when we’re alone. You are my wife, Sylvie. At the end of this year, you can try to leave, and if you piss me off enough, I might let you go. But I have a feeling you won’t. Because I don’t mean nothing to you, and you know it.”

I struggle against his grip. “Oh, I will leave at the end of this. And just because there’s a contract in place doesn’t make me your real wife.”

With one quick motion, he wraps his free hand under my thigh and lifts me until my ass is on the counter and he’s squeezed between my legs. I let out a gasp when I feel the hard length in his pants grinding against my clit.

Still holding my wrists together behind my back, he dives forward and kisses me hard on the lips. It’s embarrassing how quickly I melt into it. A small whimper escapes as his tongue invades my mouth, and my legs wrap around his waist.

“I could fuck you right here, and you’d let me. Wouldn’t you, darling?” His warm breath against my lips makes it hard to think.

“You can’t just fuck me into submission every time we fight.” I mumble in response.

“Can’t I?”

Just as he starts to fumble with the elastic on his loose sweats, releasing my hands, we hear footsteps approaching the kitchen. When I shove against his chest this time, he relents and backs away.

“What’s going on?” Anna asks as she steps into the room.

Killian keeps his back to her, likely to hide his erection, and I play innocent, crossing my legs and staying on the counter as if he and I were just having a simple conversation.

“I was just making coffee,” I say, nodding to the pot.

Her eyes sparkle with the excitement of the holiday. “Lovely. Well, you two have to come back out to the parlor. We have more presents to open.”

“We’ll be right there,” he replies in a deep grumble. She scurries out of the kitchen excitedly.

With a smile, I hop off the counter and continue making the pot of coffee I was working on.

After hitting the Start button, I turn to face him. As I look into his eyes, ignoring that potent connection I felt earlier, I realize what I have to do to get through the rest of this year.

I need to shove aside all of my feelings for Killian. He is still an ignorant, rude, brutish, moody asshole who only cares about himself.

Eyes on the prize, Sophie.

All that matters to me is that ten million dollars at the end of it. I’m certainly not going to let a handsome Scotsman with a big dick and a charming smile get in the way of that.

As I brush past him, I notice the way his scowl curls into a mischievous smirk. He snatches my arm and holds his face near mine. Our eyes meet for a moment, but instead of acknowledging that connection, I ignore it.

We stare into each other eyes like it’s a challenge. Then, he gives a shake of his head, and I know he understands. We both got too close to feeling things we shouldn’t. And it’s best we just go back to the way things were.

“Happy Christmas, wench,” he mumbles with a teasing smile.

I jerk my arm away from his hold. “Happy Christmas…brute.”

And with that, I walk away, feeling as if a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders.