I woke before Killian, feeling sore and achy from our late night sojourn into bodily bliss. He was sprawled out on the bed behind me. I had one of his arms pinned under my body as I laid nestled up against his side, my head on his shoulder. I opened my eyes to the sun glaring through the blinds, belying my mood of confusion and hurt. It should be cloudy and gross, like I felt on the inside. I turned my eyes to the man beside me. He looked so peaceful in sleep, the pain, and the passion, of last night erased from his face.
The covers had ended up at his waist, so I had quite a lovely view of his expanse of chest, dark hairs swirling, trailing down his chest to his flat stomach, disappearing under the sheet. I could feel my body start to heat up again as I thought about what was under that sheet. It was tented slightly. It always amazed me how guys always woke up with erections, ready to go. Neal was always ready to pounce on me first thing in the morning. His pouncings, however vigorous and passionate they may have seemed at the time, couldn't hold a match to that dreamy interlude of a few hours before. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of Killian. He always smelled like salt, musk, and rum. Neal usually smelled like stale beer and sweat.
I must've moved somehow, because Killian's dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. The arm that wasn't pinned underneath me reached up to allow his fingers to thread through his messy hair. He sniffled a little as his hand ran down his face, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, those eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. I felt his arm under me twitch.
"Good morning," I said. I sounded like a frog, and cleared my throat. "Let's try that again," I said, my voice clearer. "Good morning."
He turned his head towards me, eyes staring. He looked quite shocked. "Hi," he said. Definitely not a good sign. I rolled away from him to climb out of the bed, and he didn't stop me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he was staring up at the ceiling again. "Anything interesting up there?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.
He closed his eyes, flinging his arm across his face. "Not particularly."
"Wow, you've now said three whole words to me, if 'hi' counts as a whole word." I started putting my clothes on.
He finally looked at me, eyes pinning me still. "Emma," he started. I knew the moment he looked at me that he was going to go into that whole I'm-sorry-we-never-should-have bullshit, and I had to stop him before he had me sobbing again over something so ludicrous. It wasn't like he seduced me, more like the other way around.
"Stop," I said. "We aren't going there. It happened. It's over. Everything is fucked up, and we're just going to have to deal." I continued dressing, pulling my boots on. I got up and left him lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling again.
I heard the door shut as she left my apartment. I had no idea how she planned to get home, and the gentleman in me was screaming that I hadn't stopped her from leaving the bed, much less the room or the apartment. The memories of the night before slammed around in my mind. Milah and Neah's betrayal and whatever the hell had happened with Emma and me. I yanked myself out of bed and headed for the shower. I could still feel her touch, her kisses on my body. I turned the water to cold, hoping to kill whatever beast had taken up residence, but all it did was bring to mind the vision of Emma, hot and writhing beneath me. I sang The Star Spangled Banner; I sang Happy Birthday. I kept singing until the crazy lust inside me passed.