Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
The implication hits me like a brick. My heart squeezes in my chest. She’s so fucking wrong. How can she be so right for me and so wrong about herself? I close the gap between us and draw her into my arms. She struggles, trying to break free as I “shhh” her under my breath and rub her arms.
“It’s not about sending you away, baby doll. It’s about setting you free.”
Her back stiffens. “Free? I’m sorry, but that’s just semantics, Killian.”
“No way,” I say against her cheek, still holding fast. “You want the truth? When Scottie told me he was going to ask to represent you, a part of me hated the idea.” My fingers grip her silky hair. “A big part of me. Because I want you here. With me. Always.”
She sucks in a breath, like she’s going to respond, probably tear into me. So I kiss her, soft, searching, then hard and a little desperate. We’re both panting when I pull away. My chest hurts, and when I rest my forehead against hers, I’m suddenly so weary I have to close my eyes.
“But that’s selfish, Libby. And I can’t do that to you. Never to you. Because you deserve that chance, even if it pulls you away from me for a time. So I told him to go for it.”
“Killian.” She sighs and rubs her hands along my chest, almost as if it soothes her more than me. “Not everyone has your confidence. Some of us need to feel our way around a little.”
My lips press against her forehead, and I breathe her in before speaking. “Babe, if I’ve learned anything about opportunity, it’s that you make it happen. Fear will only hold you back. You can have the world. Just reach for it.”
“I don’t need the world,” she whispers.
“What do you need?” I ask just as softly.
Her hands slide up to my neck, her lips nuzzling my jaw. “You.”
I swear my knees go weak. I have to lock it up, suck in a breath. I hug her tight, unwilling to let go even to find her mouth. Not yet. “Fuck, Libby.” I snuggle her closer. “We need to stop hiding. I fucking hate it.”
I feel her tense and cup her cheeks. Her eyes are wide and panicked. It pisses me off and makes me want to cuddle her, protect her from the world. Only I’m the source of her pain. Which is a kick in the gut. It turns my voice raw. “You want me, but you want to hide us?”
“When you put it that way, you make it sound petty.”
“Well, excuse me for stating the facts.” Irritation crawls up my spine.
She flinches, her fingers wrapping around my wrists. She holds me there. “Words are simple, Killian. Real life is a bit more messy.”
“Bullshit. Why are you resisting this? Because I gotta tell you, it hurts.”
“Jax is just starting to respect me.”
“Jax can go fuck himself,” I snap, then sigh. “Baby doll, you have his respect. It’s not going to go because we’re together.”
“You sure of that?” She doesn’t sound remotely convinced.
I open my mouth to answer, but it gets lodged in my throat. Because who the fuck knows with Jax anymore? Libby’s eyes narrow.
“You can’t even deny it,” she points out.
“Look, maybe I don’t know exactly how he’ll react.”
“And the reporter who asked me if I was fucking you?”
“What?” A lick of anger flicks against my neck. “Who the fuck asked you that?”
“A reporter in Chicago. She asked me flat out if I was fucking you. She wondered why else I—‘a nobody’—would be on tour with you.”
“All right, what’s this chick’s name, because I’m not having that shit.” In fact, I’m rethinking having any fucking reporters at our after parties. Not if they’re going to harass Libby.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says in a weary voice.
“Of course it does—”
“No, Killian. It doesn’t. Not if that’s what they’re all thinking. Getting them fired or cussing them out will only fan the flames.”
“Shit.” I pace in front of her, grasping the back of my neck. “It’s a bunch of bullshit, you know. Anyone who hears you knows you’re talented. Scottie wouldn’t want you as a client if you weren’t. Trust me on that one.”
“I do.” Libby approaches, eyes wide and pained. Her palm rests on my chest a second before she wraps her arms around my waist, and because I can’t stand not touching her, I hug her close. She nips at my neck then sighs. “I hate it, you know. You think it’s easy for me to hide how I feel?” She laughs but it doesn’t sound happy. “God, it’s the worst kind of torture. Even worse than back when we first meet and I was trying to keep my cool and not jump your hot bones.”
My eyes close again, and I rest my cheek on her head. “That so?”