Chapter 37

I stare at him.

Killian is sitting at the edge of the bed, his dick hard and glistening, his eyes fixed on me.

I know what he wants me to do. I know what I want too—my body still aches with the emptiness he left in me, a slow, smoldering burn where his fingers and length had been.

“Can we talk about this afterwards?” I ask, trying to bargain the only way my faltering senses allow.

He smiles. “No.”