Chapter 7

Isabella's POV

Mason tried to get up, and Killian grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Then he shoved him down again, harder. Mason groaned and held his jaw.

"Killian, stop it!" I grabbed his arm with both hands. It was like holding a tree. "That's enough! He's down!"

"He put his hands on you." His voice was low and shaking. "You said no. I heard you. You said no, and he kept going."

"I know what I said!"

"Why would anyone force a girl to kiss him? Why?" He was not really talking to me. He was staring at Mason, who was crawling backward on the floor. "Get out of here before I finish this."

Mason did not need to be told twice. Two of his friends pulled him up and dragged him toward the door. He did not look back.

The music was still playing, but nobody was dancing. Everyone was staring at us. Betty stood a few steps away with both hands over her mouth.

I let go of Killian's arm. My hands were shaking. "You didn't have to do that."

He turned to me, and his eyes were wild. For a second, he looked at my face like he was checking that I was really okay. Then he took my hand.

"Come with me."

"Killian, no….”

"Now, Isabella."

He pulled me through the crowd. People moved out of his way. I heard Betty call my name, and I turned my head and shouted, "I'm okay!" even though I did not know if it was true.

The cold night air hit my face as soon as we reached the porch. Killian did not stop there. He pulled me down the steps and around the side of the house, where it was dark and quiet. Only the sound of the music came through the wall.

"Let go of me!" I yanked my hand back with everything I had. The sudden movement made him stop, though he didn't turn around right away. "What do you want from me, Killian?"

He stood silent in the dim light of the parking lot, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

"Answer me!" My voice trembled, but I didn't back down. "First you tell me I’m unripe. Then you act like I’m a pain in the ass" The memory stung, hot and sharp. “….you look me right in the eye and tell me I’m nothing more than a one-night stand. So what is this? What do you want from me now?"

Killian turned slowly. His shadow stretched long over the asphalt. His jaw was set, tight and tense.

"Do you really want to know what I want, Isabela?" he asked. His voice was low, rough, and stripped of any humor.

"Yes," I said, holding my ground. "I want to know."

Before I could breathe out another word, Killian closed the distance between us. His hand shot out, cupping the back of my neck, and pulled me in.

His mouth came down on mine hard, desperate, and hungry.

A sharp gasp escaped my throat, but it was swallowed instantly by his lips. 

His other hand slid down to my waist, his broad palm pressing firm against the curve of my hip, anchoring me to him so tightly there wasn't an inch of space left between our bodies. 

I tried to push against his chest, breaking the contact for just a split second to catch my breath. "What…..what are you doing?" I panted, my hands trembling against the front of his shirt.

Killian’s eyes burned down into mine. "You said you wanted to know what I was thinking," he rasped, his thumb pressing hard into my waist. "This is what I’m thinking."

He pulled me back in.

Any resistance I had left dissolved instantly. I had wanted this. As much as I hated him for what he said, as much as I wanted to fight him, I wanted this kiss just as badly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back with the same desperate hunger.

He groaned, a low sound deep in his chest, and tightened his grip. The kiss grew deeper, wilder, untamed. His tongue brushed against mine, demanding everything, and I gave it freely, arching into his touch. 

Without breaking the connection for long, Killian guided me back toward his car. He pulled open the rear door, his hands never fully leaving my skin, and pushed me gently onto the leather back seat.

The interior of the car was dark and quiet, instantly sealing us off from the rest of the world. Killian slid in after me, his massive frame looming over mine, blocking out what little light filtered in from the streetlamps.

He leaned down, his mouth trailing fire from my lips, down the column of my throat, to the exposed dip of my collarbone. Every touch left my skin burning. 

My breath came in short, shallow hitches. I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as a slow, aching pulse settled deep between my thighs.

His hand slid up my ribs, his long fingers spreading wide before reaching the top of my gown. 

He pushed the  down just enough to expose my breast to the cool air, but before I could shiver, his hand warm wrapped around it.

I gasped. He squeezed gently, his thumb sweeping over the hardened peak, sending a lightning shock of pleasure straight through me. Then, he dipped his head and took my nipple into his mouth.

He sucked hard, drawing a sharp, ragged breath from my chest. The friction of his tongue combined with the strong pull sent a surge of pure arousal crashing through my blood. I arched off the seat, my knees spreading instinctively as the ache inside me grew unbearable. I wanted more. I needed him closer.

Killian felt the shift in my body. He shifted his weight, his large hand sweeping down to gather the silk of my gown, bunching it up to my hips. His fingers brushed against the inside of my thigh, his touch scorching against my bare skin. I shuddered, my hips lifting slightly toward his hand.

With his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down, freeing himself. He didn't wait, and neither could I.

He moved between my legs, the head of his shaft pressing firm against my slick center. I bit my lower lip, my hands flying to his chest as he slid inside me in one long, smooth motion.

The sensation stretched me full, a thick, heavy heat filling every inch of me. A loud moan threatened to break from my throat, but I caught it just in time, pressing the back of my hand over my mouth.

Killian paused, hovering right above me, his chest heaving, his  eyes locked onto mine. He reached up, gently pulling my hand away from my mouth, interlock his fingers with mine, and pinning my arm against the leather seat.

"Don't hide it," he whispered roughness.

He began to move. His thrusts were deliberate, slow at first, deep and agonizingly thorough. 

Every push sent a wave of electric sensation rolling through my hips, building a tight, unbearable tension deep in my belly. My toes curled. 

My core clamped around him, wet and demanding, matching the rhythm he set.

He picked up the pace, his hips driving into mine with a steady, commanding force. 

I held his gaze, there was a question in my mind to ask him, but as soon as I opened my mouth to ask, a stronger thrust choked the words back into me.