The room was empty.
The bed was still neatly made, his duffel bag sitting open on the chair, a few clothes tossed carelessly across it.
But the sound of running water drew my gaze to the en-suite bathroom door, which was also slightly open.
Steam curled out in lazy wisps, carrying the clean, masculine scent of his body wash—something woody and dark that made my mouth water.
He was in the shower.
Naked.
The thought hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I imagined the hot water cascading over his broad, tattooed shoulders, tracing every ridge of muscle down his powerful back, over the firm globes of his ass, and lower… My mind supplied the rest in vivid, filthy detail: Killian standing under the spray, one large hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking himself slowly while thinking of me.
Water sluicing over his abs, his hand moving faster, low groans echoing off the tiles as he imagined burying his face between my thighs.
My breath hitched.
Without thinking, my fingers drifted down the front of my robe, slipping between the folds of silk to brush against my swollen clit.
A tiny spark of pleasure shot through me, making my hips jerk.
I bit my lip hard to stifle a moan and yanked my hand away as if burned.
No.
This was exactly what that arrogant asshole wanted.
I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Heart pounding, I rushed out of the guest room and practically fled into my own bedroom, closing the door behind me a little too forcefully.
I leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing.
My body was on fire.
My nipples ached so badly they felt raw.
My pussy was slick and swollen, inner thighs already damp with arousal.
Sleep was never going to come like this.
I tossed and turned in the large king bed for what felt like hours, the sheets tangling around my legs.
Every shift of fabric against my skin sent fresh sparks of need through me.
Finally, with a frustrated groan, I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out my rose toy—the one faithful companion that had kept me sane these past few years.
The soft, rhythmic vibrations hummed to life.
The moment the silicone mouth pressed against my aching clit, a loud, involuntary moan tore from my throat.
I was so sensitive tonight, every nerve ending raw and desperate.
I spread my legs wider, hips rolling as I chased the building pleasure.
Two fingers slid easily into my soaked pussy, curling just the way I liked while the rose sucked and pulsed against my clit.
“Oh fuck…” I whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.
I didn’t hear the door open.
I didn’t notice Killian until it was too late.
When my eyes flew open, he was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light.
He wore nothing but a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants that hung dangerously on his hips, the fabric doing little to hide the heavy outline of his cock.
His torso and hair were still damp from the shower, droplets of water tracing slow paths down the hard planes of his chest and abs, glistening over the dark ink of his tattoos.
Those piercing blue eyes were almost black with raw hunger as they locked onto me—specifically onto my spread thighs and the obscene sight of the rose toy still buzzing against my dripping pussy, my fingers buried knuckle-deep inside myself.
I gasped and snapped my legs shut, yanking the toy away and pulling the sheets up to cover myself.
My face burned with embarrassment and arousal.
“Killian!” I hissed, voice shaky.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?
Get out!”
He didn’t move.
He didn’t speak at first.
He simply stared at me like a predator who had finally cornered its prey, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.
The bulge in his sweatpants twitched visibly.
After a long, heavy silence, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
He moved toward the bed with deliberate, unhurried steps, each one making my heart race faster.
When he reached the edge of the mattress, he dropped to his knees beside it, bringing his face level with mine.
Up close, I could see the water still clinging to his skin, the way his damp hair curled slightly at the ends.
His scent—clean soap mixed with something darker, purely male—wrapped around me.
“Let me please you,” he said, voice low and seductive, rough with desire.
“Let me show you what it feels like to be worshipped the way you deserve.
I won’t fuck you if you don’t want me to.
I swear it.
Just let me taste you… let me make you come until you can’t think straight.”
His words sent a fresh gush of wetness between my thighs.
I stared at him, chest heaving.
What did I have to lose?
Joe was off fucking his secretary.
My body had been neglected for years.
And here was Killian—arrogant, infuriating, devastatingly sexy—on his knees, begging to give me what my own husband never had.
Slowly, trembling with anticipation and nerves, I let my thighs fall open again.
A dark, satisfied smirk curved his lips.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise sliding over my skin like warm honey.
Before I could second-guess myself, his large, strong hands grabbed my thighs and dragged me roughly to the very edge of the bed.
He pushed my legs up and back until my knees were pressed against my chest, completely exposing my glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.
I was spread wide open for him, dripping, swollen, and utterly vulnerable.
Killian leaned in and blew a hot stream of air directly over my aching folds.
The contrast between the cool air in the room and his warm breath made me whimper.
Then, without any further teasing, he wrapped his mouth around my clit and sucked.
The sensation was electric.