Idol (VIP, #1)(75)

Brenna talks quietly in my ear. “Life moves forward, Libby. Trying to stop it or rewind is a waste of energy.”

Watching Killian dance cuts into my heart. I can’t breathe. I have never been a jealous person. I can safely say it’s the worst emotion on earth. And now it writhes inside me until I want to throw up just to get rid of the feeling.

All the things I’ve said to him, all the things he’s said to me, the things we’ve done—all of it—whirl around in my brain. I think about that day I first saw him sprawled on my lawn. If I had picked up the phone and called the police instead of engaging with him, I’d be blissfully ignorant right now. Safely hidden away from the world. From life. A life without Killian.

When the woman’s hand drifts to Killian’s butt, I stand, knocking into the table. Drinks slosh, the table screeches.

“Excuse me,” I mutter to Brenna, who wisely scrambles out of my way.

My exit from the table is far from graceful, more like a bulldozer pushing everything out of its way. And Killian’s head jerks up, his eyes finding mine. A worried look works across his face.

I can only stare back, drinking in the sight of him.

His dark hair, cropped close to his well-shaped skull, highlights the sharp curve of his cheek bones, the slashes of his brows, and the soft curl of his lips. He is a beautiful man. Dressed in a black button-down shirt and black slacks, he also looks nothing like the man I found drunk on my lawn. Here, he is the slick millionaire, the effortlessly cool rocker, an untouchable idol everyone wants a piece of.

People surround him, a wall of human flesh between him and me. I ignore it all. This isn’t what’s real.

His frown grows as I walk, my steps determined. Inside, my heart is pounding. I don’t know what he sees in my face, but his careful expression shatters. Dark eyes fill with purpose, his body standing taller. He excuses himself and moves, liquid grace, powerful strides.

I start to shake, deep within me. Desire I can handle. But the emotion in his face, as if he knows—he knows—I’m breaking apart, and he is too, blurs my vision. I blink twice and go to him, shouldering people aside.

He meets me halfway, stopping before me, his height blocking out everything around us. He gazes down at me, searching my face. “Elly May?”

My head tilts back to meet his gaze. “Lawn bum.” I reach up, cup his cheek, sandy with stubble, and tug him close. Our lips meet, his questioning, mine demanding. And then he lets out a low sound, like a sigh, but rougher, needy. His arms wrap around me, hauling my body against his as he angles his head and sinks into a kiss that takes the strength from my knees. But Killian has me secure.

There, on the dance floor, we kiss, and it’s messy, dirty, and filled with silent confessions: I’m sorry. I know. I need you. I need you more.

When we finally pull back, his lips curve in a half smile, and his fingers lace with mine. “All right, then.”

I touch his cheek again. “I adore you, Killian James. Whatever may come of it, I’m no longer willing to hide you away like you’re something to be ashamed of. Everyone should know that.”

His smile grows, and he rests his forehead on mine. “Pretty sure everyone does now.”

I snuggle into his embrace. “Good. Then I won’t have to take out an ad.”

A half-laugh rumbles out of him. His hand slides up to my neck and gives me a squeeze. I close my eyes.

“Time to go,” he whispers. “Before I take you right here.”

I can’t stop grinning. “Move your things to my room. Or I’ll move to yours.”

“Baby doll.” He kisses me again, softly this time, then presses his cheek to mine. “I do, too, you know. So much it hurts.”

“Are you two done?”

Jax’s irritated tone erases our glow in an instant. Killian straightens to his full height and turns. Jax’s look of utter disgust actually hurts to see. I’m not sure I even like the guy, but he’s Killian’s closest friend and important to him.

“Yeah,” Killian says slowly, ice in his voice. “We’re done.”

Jax snorts. “I f*cking knew it. Thinking with your dick.”

I twitch, and Killian’s grip on my hand firms as he pulls me closer to his side.

The room stirs, and I realize Brenna and Scottie are directing people out. Bouncers do a great job of helping them clear the room in what seems like seconds.

“Jax, man,” Killian says. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not? We’re all thinking it.”

Whip draws near. “We’re not all thinking that.”

“Definitely not what I’m thinking,” Rye adds. “About time, is more like it.” He gives me a happy smile. “No more swallowing goats.”

“No,” I say, giving him a small smile back.

The rest of the guys are clearly confused by that one.

But Jax snorts. “And yet you all know exactly what I’m thinking.”

“Why don’t you lay it out for me?” Killian asks. There is a silky, dark note in his voice that I’ve never heard before. A definite warning.

Jax either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care. “If you wanted your side piece to come on tour, you should have just said so. You didn’t have to drag her on stage and mess with the band.”