Search and Rescue by April Wilson
Chapter 21
Hannah McIntyre
I swallow a pain pill with my lukewarm coffee and sit on the sofa with my leg propped up on a pillow while Killian talks to Shane. As the oldest of my four brothers, Shane’s the one who personally takes responsibility for everyone in his sphere. He’s the ultimate caretaker. The protector.
After a short conversation, Killian hands me his phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Hey, bro,” I say, doing my best to sound unfazed by what just happened. “How are Beth and the kids?”
“They’re well.” He sighs. “The pertinent question is, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay. I’m recuperating.”
“How’s your ankle?”
“It aches, but I’m managing.”
“How’s it going with Killian?”
I have to remind myself that Killian can only hear my side of the conversation. “Pretty well, actually.”
“Really?” He sounds skeptical. “I know he’s the last person you wanted to see, but—”
“No, really. It’s fine.”
“Hannah.” His voice makes it clear he doesn’t believe me. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I just wanted to be sure you were okay with this arrangement. If you’re not, I can send someone else out—”
“Nope, it’s fine. No need.”
“Okay.” Shane chuckles. “Are you sure you’re Hannah? You’re not being coerced?”
I laugh, then groan. “Stop. It hurts when I laugh.”
“Sorry.” His voice grows serious. “Please, don’t take any chances, Hannah. Let Killian do his job.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now put him back on the phone.”
I hand the phone back to Killian, who walks toward the kitchen as he continues his conversation. “I agree,” he says. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that an unidentified vehicle arrived at our location just ten minutes after Hannah’s boss stopped by for a visit. Ray Calhoun is either working with the poachers, or they tailed him to discover her location. Owen just missed them, or we might have gotten at least a plate number.” He pauses. “Yeah, I will. But I’m not leaving her alone. I’ll have Owen and Maggie stay with her while I do a bit of reconnaissance.” Another pause. “Sounds good.”
Killian ends the call and pockets his phone. “Can I get you anything?”
“My coffee’s cold. How about topping it off?”
He brings the pot to me and pours some into my cup. “Better? You need more sugar or cream?”
I take a taste. “No, this is fine. Thanks. When we were kids, my dad always told us that drinking coffee black would put hair on our chests. My brothers insisted on drinking theirs black, but not me and my sisters. The last thing we wanted was hair on our chests. We used liberal amounts of sugar and creamer.”
Killian chuckles as he sits beside me. “Thank god you heeded your dad’s warning.” He gently rests my cast on his lap, laying his hands on top of it to hold it steady. “How does it feel?”
“A little better. The pain meds help.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied. “In a few days, the aching should stop. Just hang in there.” His hand sweeps up my cast to settle on my knee, his palm and fingers warm and rough against my skin.
I allow myself to imagine that hand sliding up my leg, between my thighs, closer and closer still to that aching spot. My entire body heats up at just the idea. Reflexively, I clench the muscles between my legs, the nerve endings down there sending tingles up my spine. I shiver.
“You cold?” he asks me, nodding toward the woodstove. “Want me to stoke the fire?”
“No, I’m fine.” I’m not cold. Far from it. I’m heating up inside in anticipation of something that may or may not ever happen. Yes, I want him. I always have. I just never thought it could be an option. It’s not fair of me to lead him on if we don’t have a future.
Carefully, so as not to jar my leg resting on his lap, Killian turns to face me. He lays one arm along the back of the sofa cushions, and the other cradles my cast to ensure it doesn’t slide off his lap. His gaze is locked on me, his expression just as heated as I feel.
As I swallow nervously, my belly flutters in anticipation.
He meets my gaze head-on. “I realize this isn’t the best time to say this—”
“No, it’s fine. Just say it. You and I have been dancing around each other for over a year now.”
He nods. “I want you to know I didn’t come here expecting anything. You’re not beholden to me because of what happened on that ridge. I would have come for you no matter what. And I’ll stay and do my job—protect you—no matter what. Are we clear on that?”
I smile at him. “Yes.”
“I want to make that perfectly clear.”
“It’s clear. Crystal.” I guess now it’s my turn to make a gesture. I lay my hand over his as I work up my courage to be upfront with him. “When we first met, you made one hell of an impression on me, but I didn’t see how anything could come of it. You know how I feel about the city. Moving back to Chicago isn’t an option for me.”
“I’ve always known that, Hannah.” He turns his hand so that his palm is pressed against mine, and he links our fingers. “And I would never ask—or expect—you to do something that would make you unhappy.”
I stare at our hands, mesmerized by the differences. His are so masculine, with short, crisp brown hairs on the backs of his hand and fingers. I can feel the callouses on the pads of his fingers and on his palm. “Killian, I can’t ask you to uproot yourself just for me.”
He reaches out and brushes back my hair. “Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“There aren’t any buts about it, love. I’m a grown man; I make my own decisions. Chicago wasn’t the first place I would have chosen for myself, but the offer at the time was too good to pass up. And I’ve never regretted it. I’ve loved working for Shane. I couldn’t ask for a better boss. But my point is, darlin’, I’m not tied to Chicago.” He frees his palm, presses it to his chest, and stares pointedly at me. “I’d rather be tied to you.”
The air rushes from my lungs and I find myself holding my breath. My pulse is racing. “You risked your life for me.”
“It was nothing. I’d do it again a thousand times over.” He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it, his lips clinging to my skin for a long moment. “All I’m asking for is a chanceto prove that we’d be good together. That I can make you happy.”
“I always felt it would be unfair to you—” I don’t get a chance to finish because he leans in and kisses me.
Unlike the last time, this kiss is soft, gentle, teasing—a flick of his tongue against my bottom lip. “I’m a big boy, Hannah. You don’t need to worry about my poor little feelings. Be unfair to me, please. Walk all over me and expect me to pick up my life and adjust it to fit yours.”
Laughing, I smack his chest playfully. “Be serious.”
He catches my palm and holds it to his chest, right over his heart. “I am being serious. I’ve known a lot of girls in my life, Ms. McIntyre, but never once did I meet one who would make me wanna throw myself to da wind and see where life takes me. You do. In spades. And we’ll never know how we feel about each other, and if we work, unless we give it a try. Dat’s what I’m asking for. A chance.”
I smile as that little bit of Cajun sneaks into his speech. It comes and goes at random, and when I hear it, my heart melts. “Okay.”
His dark eyes widen. “Okay? It’s dat easy?”
“Yes, but don’t come crying to me if you get your feelings hurt.”
He laughs. “Oh, ma belle jeune fille, doan you worry one bit about my feelings. Like I said, I’m a big boy.”
His choice of words makes me smile. My beautiful young woman.
“So, oui?” he asks, as if he’s confirming.
I nod. “Oui.”
“You want this?” He leans closer, moving slowly as if giving me time to change my mind. I sit frozen in anticipation. Hell yes, I want this. Are you kidding? He’s the star of my daydreams. He has been for a long time. When I’m alone and need a release, it’s his face in my mind, his voice and touch I’m imagining. Aching for.
I glance down at my cast. “What about my ankle?”
“I won’t hurt you,” he says.
“I mean, it’s a bit of a party crasher, don’t you think?”
He gives me a mischievous grin. “Believe me, I know lots of delicious ways to pleasure you that don’t involve your poor ankle.”
Of course I believe him. I believe this man can do absolutely anything he puts his mind to. “Yes, I want this.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ve dreamed of havin’ the right to touch you—to know that you want me to. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted that right—since the first time we met, when you would hardly look at me.”
My chest tightens as I recall the first time I saw him. It felt like the bottom fell out of my world—he stole my breath, my ability to think straight. And now we’re here, like this? How is that even possible? “I think you need to kiss me right now, Killian—really kiss me.”
“Oh, I mean to kiss you and a whole lot more.”
Carefully, he extricates himself out from beneath my cast, pushes the coffee table aside, and kneels beside the sofa, right next to me. His long fingers thread through my hair, and for a moment he holds me there, gazing so deeply into my eyes that I swear he can see all the secret needs and desires I’ve been keeping from him. When I nervously lick my bottom lip, his gaze locks onto my mouth. He licks his own bottom lip, and I know what we’re both anticipating.
Touch.
Taste.
God, I want to taste him.
“I’ve waited a long time for you,” he says quietly as he leans in. “An embarrassingly long time.” He brushes his lips gently against mine. “You were all I could think about. No one else measured up.”
“Are you saying you haven’t dated—”
“I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since I met you. It’s been a long dry spell.”
“Same for me,” I admit. “I kept thinking, in the back of my mind, maybe, just maybe, one day it could work out for us.”
He chuckles. “I’ve never worked so hard for a kiss.” And then he closes the distance between us, his lips settling over mine, nudging them open, wider and wider as he creates the most delicious suction molding our mouths together.
My nipples tighten in response to his touch, tingling almost painfully. Pleasure shoots down my spine, to my core, hot and teasing. The ache between my legs intensifies, and I can feel my body softening in anticipation.
His hands slide forward to cradle my face, and he holds me for his kiss. His breath mingles with mine, and we’re both breathing hard. I’m not sure how far this is going—I certainly wasn’t prepared for this—but I don’t want to even think about stopping him.
One of his hands slides down my throat, then across my shoulder and down my arm. It slips to my torso, his fingers searching. When his thumb brushes the side of my breast, I shiver as a breathy whimper slips out. His hand tightens on me, and he groans deep in his throat, the sound so raw and masculine that it makes me melt.
Killian is honestly the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t say that lightly—I’ve met a lot of good-looking men here in Colorado. They’re everywhere, in fact. Rugged, outdoorsy types that drive Jeeps or ride motorcycles. They hike to mountain peaks and solo climb rockfaces. They hang out every single Saturday night at Ruth’s tavern, and I’ve had more than my fair share of male attention. But none of them have haunted my imagination the way Killian has. None of them have tempted me like he does.
He coaxes my head back onto the sofa cushion and rises up over me, holding himself inches from my body. He’s being so careful with my ankle—so careful with me—and I love him for it. As he trails kisses along my jawline and down the sensitive curve of my neck, his thumb brushes my already peaked nipple. The result is electrifying pleasure. With a cry, I arch my back and press my chest against his.
That little movement is enough to send a streak of pain shooting up my leg, catching me offguard. A cry escapes me before I can squelch it, and immediately he draws back with a curse.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says as he reaches down to lay his hand on my knee. “Too soon.”
“No,” I protest, grabbing his hand. I don’t want this to stop. Even if we can’t do more than make-out like desperate teenagers. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
He pulls away and sits on the coffee table, his expression contrite. “I shouldn’t have done dat.”
“Oh yes, you should have,” I say. “And I want you to do a lot more. I want to do a lot to you.”
He laughs. “You’d be more comfortable stretched out on a bed, oui?”
Yes?
“Oui.” That idea sounds perfect to me.
He raises his index finger. “But…” He draws out the word as if he regrets what he’s about to say. “We’ll have to pick this up later. There’s something I need to do first.”
“What?” I have a suspicion I know. I heard his half of his conversation with Shane.
“I need to go pay a visit to your boss. I have some questions for him. Later tonight, if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll pick up where we left off, only this time in a proper bed where you’ll be more comfortable.”
The idea of bed and Killian in the same sentence makes me a little dizzy.
