Chapter 2

Isabella’s POV

Killian said no three times.

The first time was in the car, with his eyes on the road and his knuckles white on the wheel. "You're drunk. Tomorrow you'll hate me."

The second time was at the red light. "Your brother would kill me, Isabella."

The third time was in his hallway, and I didn't answer him with words.

The whiskey had made everything warm and loose, and the pain was still there but far away, like a sound in another room. All I could feel was him, so close, he was the only solid thing in a world that had fallen apart that day.

I dropped his jacket off my shoulders. Then I pulled my sweater over my head and let it fall on the floor.

"Isabella." His voice was rough. "Put it back on."

"No."

"You don't know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing." My fingers were clumsy, but I took his wrist and pressed his hand against my chest. I felt him go completely still. I felt his breath stop. "Please. I just want to feel something other than this." 

"Stop." But he didn't pull his hand away.

I stepped closer. I went up on my toes and kissed him.

For one second he didn't move at all. His lips were hard and stiff against mine, and I thought, he's going to push me away. Then a low sound came out of his throat, a sound like something breaking, and his hand tightened on me.

"Damn it," he said against my mouth. "Damn it, Bella."

He kissed me back like he was starving.

His hands were in my hair, then on my waist, and my back hit the wall. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound. There was nothing careful in him now. He kissed me hard and deep, like he'd been holding it back for years and the lock had finally snapped. My head spun. My fingers dug into his shirt, and I pulled him closer, and he groaned.

"Last chance," he said, breathless, his forehead against mine. His eyes were black. "Tell me to stop."

"Don't stop." I muttered against my breath. 

He lifted me off the floor like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around him, and he carried me down the hall with his mouth on my neck. The bedroom door hit the wall. I didn't care. I was already falling.

I won't tell every part of that night. I will tell you he was never rough with me, not once. He touched me like he was afraid I might disappear. When I cried, he stopped and kissed my tears away. He said my name over and over, like it was a secret he had kept too long. For a few hours, the hole in my chest filled with something warm.

I fell asleep in his arms, thinking that maybe this was what being wanted felt like.

I woke up alone.

The sun was bright, and my head pounded. For a second I forgot everything. Then it all came back all at once, the video, the glass, the bar, the car, his hands. My face went hot. I found his shirt on the chair and pulled it on, and stepped outside the room. 

He stood at the gas with his back to me, already dressed, his hair wet. When he heard me on the steps, his shoulders went stiff.

"Morning," I said. My voice came out small.

"You can sit over there.” He pointed to the chair. 

I walked slowly and sat down, my eyes glued on his back as he prepared the food. 

Minutes passed in silence, when he was done he  put a plate in front of me without looking at me, then sat at the far end of the table and stared at the table. The silence stretched until I couldn't stand it.

"Killian. About last night….”

"It was a mistake."

He said it flat, like he was reading it off a card.

"You were drunk," he went on. "You were hurting, and you threw yourself at me. A decent man would have walked away. I didn't. That's on me, and I won't do it again."

"I wasn't that drunk. I knew what I wanted."

"You didn't." He finally looked up, and his eyes were cold. They looked nothing like the eyes that had held me hours ago. "Don't make this bigger than it is, Isabella. It was one night. You needed someone, and I was there. That's all it was."

"That's all?"

"You were a one night stand." He said it slowly, so it would sink in. "People have them every weekend. You don't need to look at me like I owe you something."

It felt like someone had stepped on my chest. Jace had been cruel yesterday, but Killian was the one who had held me. He was the one who had said my name like it mattered.

"You were gentle," I said. My voice cracked. "You stopped when I cried. You wouldn't do that for a stranger."

"I would for anyone who cried that hard."

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth."

"It's not." I stood, and my chair scraped the floor. "You asked me three times. You said last chance. Why would you ask if it meant nothing?"

He rose slowly and put both hands flat on the table. He didn't shout, and that was worse.

"Because I'm not a monster," he said quietly. "I didn't want to take advantage of a girl who'd just been torn apart. That's decency. It isn't love. Don't mix them up."

My eyes burned. "Please. Just let me say it. I know I'm Daniel’s sister. I know it's complicated. I'm not asking you to promise me anything. I only want you to be honest. If you felt something…..”

"I didn't."

"Killian…..”

"I felt sorry for you." He picked up his cup and turned his back on me, like I had already left the room. "That's all. Take it for what it was and stop trying to turn it into something else."

‘Sorry for you’. The words went in slowly and settled deep. Yesterday the whole rink laughed at me. Today the one person I trusted was calling me a pity.

"Fine," I whispered.

"Good."

I walked out of the kitchen. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before my vision blurred, and then I ran. I took the steps two at a time and tore off his shirt as soon as I reached the bedroom. My hands shook as I found my jeans, my sweater, my boots. I dressed fast, wiping my face on my sleeve, telling myself I didn't care.

I was reaching for my phone on the nightstand when I heard a low, rolling rumble. 

I walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. A black car was turning into the driveway, the same one I'd seen a thousand times. My stomach dropped instantly.

It was my brother's car.