Chapter Nineteen
Killian
“I feel like the proud papa, sending my boy on his first date,” Louis said as I changed out of my T-shirt and into a black button-down shirt in the office.
“Call me if you need me,” I said, doing up the buttons. I was all thumbs.
“I won’t be calling you. You’re not allowed to come back to check on things. No calls either. What time’s your reservation?”
“Nine.”
“What you need to do is ask her questions about herself. Be that charming Killian I know you can be and—”
“Here’s an idea. How about you get back to work and leave me in peace?”
“How about you stop acting like a jackass and listen to some good advice?”
“If I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it.”
“But you took my advice,” Louis said smugly. “Or you wouldn’t be going out to dinner with her.”
“You’re taking credit for this?”
“If I hadn’t said anything, you never would have pulled your head out of your ass.”
That was a lie. I never did anything I didn’t want to do. If this wasn’t something I wanted, all his advice would have fallen on deaf ears. He knew that. But if he needed to take credit, let him. “Your job here is done,” I said. “Now get back to your real job.”
He held up his hands and backed out of the office. “Just wanted to give you a proper send-off. Be brave, warrior.” He pounded his chest with his fist before he finally left me alone.
Be brave, warrior. Jesus.
Ava stopped in the doorway, holding a taco in a cardboard container. “So…big date, huh?”
“It’s just dinner.”
“Uh huh. Sure, it is.” She looked me up and down as I cuffed my sleeves. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
I looked down at my black shirt and black jeans. Clearly, it was what I was wearing so no answer was required. Did the whole world know I was taking Eden to dinner? The only person I told was Louis, and I regretted it.
“You wear that all the time,” Ava said. “You wear too much black. You should jazz it up with a little bit of color every now and then.” I eyed the loud colors of her psychedelic mini skirt. It was like a strip of fabric on acid. Just looking at it made my head spin. “You would look really good in a light blue shirt.”
Everyone had an opinion. “I don’t own a light blue shirt.”
“Exactly. But you should. It would match your eyes. When Connor wears blue—” She stopped talking and we stared at each other for a few seconds before she lowered her head, but I saw the tears she was trying to hold back.
“I need to go,” I said, brushing past her. I didn’t need a reminder that Connor was still out there somewhere, but I had no fucking idea where. Every day I worried that I’d get that dreaded phone call from a hospital or a police officer, and every day I thanked God when it didn’t come.
“I’m sorry,” Ava said, her voice sounding small, but I still heard her. “You look great, Killian. Really. You always look great.”
I raised my hand in the air and forced myself to keep walking, right out of the bar and onto the street. I didn’t stop or slow down or turn my head to see what the bartenders were doing. Progress. Louis accused me of being a control freak and a workaholic, but he knew the real reason I needed to keep busy—less time to think. And I liked taking care of problems I could fix. In my real life, I had a shit-ton of problems with no solutions.
When I got outside, I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. Deep breaths. On the drive to Eden’s apartment, I tried to calm myself down. It was just dinner. I needed to chill the fuck out. I rolled out my shoulders. Even before a fight, I never used to get nervous. But this was uncharted territory, and I didn’t want to screw it up.
Last night, I’d gotten a taste of Eden, and I knew it would never be enough. I’d never understood the power of a kiss before. She didn’t taste like an ashtray or lipstick or dirty martinis. Eden tasted like warm honey. She smelled like…orange blossoms, I guess.
After she told me the story about her dickhead boyfriend, I didn’t want to be another dick who screwed her over. I wanted to be someone worthy. I wanted to be someone special to her, not just some guy who fucks her and leaves. That was all I’d ever done in the past, something she got to hear about from Joss.
I should have known that nothing good ever happened at Fat Earl’s. Being in that bar again twisted my stomach into knots. Eden noticed something was wrong. She always noticed. But I pulled myself together and by the time we finished our game of pool, it was all good. Until we ran into Joss and Adam.
I told Adam if he valued his life, he wouldn’t get within a hundred yards of Eden. Wouldn’t even glance in her direction. He’d make sure Joss did the same. Adam knew who I was, and what I was capable of, and that worked in my favor for a change. He wouldn’t mess with her again.
I climbed the stairs to Eden’s front door and pressed the intercom. The lock on this door wasn’t worth jack shit. She should talk to her landlord about this. I backed up on the landing and looked at her windows. Closed. I smiled when I heard her voice on the intercom, “Killian?”
“Good evening, ma’am. I’m one of Jehovah’s Witnesses and I’d like to talk to you about the Lord’s work.”
She laughed that husky laugh of hers. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. I’d love to hear more about it. Be right down.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I tried to get my dick to behave. Just hearing her laugh got me hard. I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face.
The door opened behind me, and I turned around to look at her. She gripped her plump lower lip between her white teeth and smoothed her hands over her dress. It was white, or something close to white. The sleeves wrapped around her biceps, leaving her shoulders bare. I’d never make it through dinner. I wanted to skip food and haul her back upstairs and ravage her body. The dress was deceptive. It appeared to be sweet and innocent, but on her, it was the sexiest dress I’d ever seen. My gaze traveled down her tanned legs to sandals that tied around her ankle. I wanted to rip open the laces with my teeth.
I lifted my eyes to her face. She was wearing her hair down, a blonde tumble of loose waves. She told me she keeps her hair long for her mom who said she never thought she was vain until she lost all her hair. I hope Eden never cuts her hair. I love that she doesn’t wear tons of makeup so I can actually see her face. Her lips are naturally pink and lush and…fuck. I hadn’t said a word since she stepped out of her door. “You look good.” Beautiful.
She smiled. “Thank you. I changed my outfit about twenty times. But I ended up wearing my first choice.”
How cool that she admitted it. No pretense. No ulterior motive. Just pure honesty. “Good choice.”
Eden reached for my hand and I clasped her smaller hand in mine, our palms pressed together. I’d never been a hand-holder before. When I used to take a woman to my hotel room after a fight, I always walked two paces ahead, like an arrogant asshole, and they’d have to jog a little to keep up. I didn’t know what it was about Eden, or why everything was so different with her. It felt like I’d been living in the dark for too long and she’d turned on all the lights inside me. Like the world wasn’t such a fucked-up place if she was in it.
The restaurant was French with vintage posters on the walls, hardwood floors, and low lighting. The kind of restaurant where you brought a date for a romantic dinner. Not overly fancy, but quaint I guess. After I turned down the first table they tried to give us—right in front, on top of everyone else, and not where I wanted to be—they led us to a candle-lit table in the back corner of the patio garden enclosed by ivy-covered walls.
I ordered steak and salad. She ordered chicken. I ordered a bottle of red wine, after asking her if she liked it. She said she did, but she’d need to wear her napkin as a bib. Which made me laugh.
Over dinner, she talked about art and the artist Jean-Michel Basquiat, and how he grew up in Brooklyn and dropped out of school. How Basquiat started as a graffiti artist before he moved on to painting. Then he died young, from a heroin overdose. As usual, every word out of her mouth fascinated me, even though I knew all about Basquiat already. He was one of Connor’s favorite artists. Unfortunately, Connor had more in common with Basquiat than just art.
“You want to be a graffiti artist?” I asked her.
She had that same look on her face as she did when she considered getting a tattoo. I knew she’d say yes, even before the words came out of her mouth. “Yeah, I do. If I got arrested, would you bail me out of jail?” she asked, with a mischievous smile like the idea thrilled her rather than scared her.
“I won’t let you get arrested. I’ll be your lookout and your getaway driver.” Hell, if I’d let her do that on her own. Bushwick was the best place to throw something on the wall. Connor used to do it back in high school. But graffiti needs to be done late at night, and no way was that safe for Eden.
“You’d do that for me?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. Her whole face lit up when she was happy.
She had no idea how much I’d be willing to do for her. Making her happy had become my new purpose in life. Maybe I didn’t deserve her, but neither did Luke or Adam. I liked who she was—talented, beautiful, strong, argumentative. She’d suffered her share of loss and heartbreak, but she wasn’t jaded or bitter. I liked it that she pushed back and questioned me about everything. I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t like about her. “Yeah, I’d do that for you.”
“We’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde,” she said. “Without the guns and the bank robberies.”
“So, nothing like Bonnie and Clyde.”
She burst out laughing. “Guess not.”
The waiter cleared our plates and handed us dessert menus. I didn’t even look at mine, but Eden studied hers like it held the secrets of the universe. When the waiter came back to take our order, she was still pouring over the menu.
“Need some help there, Sunshine?”
She lowered the menu and smiled at me. “That’s exactly what I need. Thanks for the offer.” Eden turned to the waiter and ordered two desserts.
“I got the molten lava chocolate cake and the apple tart,” she told me, with a smug smile. “So, you’ll need to help me.”
Help consisted of her force-feeding me bites of each. “You like it, right?” she asked, after feeding me a bite of chocolate cake.
I closed my eyes and moaned like I was having an orgasm. “Mm. Best thing I ever tasted. I need more.”
Her face flushed pink, and I smirked at her.
She held a forkful of apple tart in front of my mouth. “Tart?”
“And here I thought you were sweet and innocent.”
She laughed. “Open up.”
“Oh. It keeps getting better. What will you have me do next?”
“The night is still young,” she said, with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
I opened my mouth, and she fed me. Eight years of a dessert-free, refined sugar-free diet, shot to hell by the temptress across the table. She watched my mouth as I chewed, and her gaze dropped down to my throat as I swallowed. Back to my mouth as I licked my lips, her eyes following the progress of my tongue. She lifted her gaze and her green eyes locked onto mine. “You made that innocent tart look downright sinful,” she said.
“I’ll feed you the chocolate cake, and you can return the favor.”
Eyes still locked on mine, she handed me her fork and pushed the cake in front of me. Challenge accepted. Chocolate cake had never looked so sinful. I reached across the table and slowly dragged my thumb across her lower lip, feeling the tremor go through her. “You missed some.”
She wrapped her hand around my wrist and guided my thumb into her mouth. Holy fuck. Her lips wrapped around my thumb and she sucked on it, her cheeks hollowed, her tongue circling, her teeth grazing my skin. I reached down and adjusted myself under the table. I had every intention of dropping her off with a goodnight kiss and nothing more. For the first time in my life, I wanted to take this slow and do it right. But she was blowing all my good intentions out of the water. All I could think about were those lips wrapped around my cock.
Eden released my thumb, her eyelids at half-mast. “You taste good.”