Killian is in my bed. After our first "not-really-a-couple" crisis, I feel stronger than ever. I can finally see my true self—the one I had been denying for so long.
I understand everything now. I sit beside him as his equal. I cover my chest with the blanket but leave my back exposed. I feel powerful with my scars. He senses that something has changed, that I'm different, and I tell him:
"We need to talk."
Killian leans back against the headboard. His muscles tense, veins standing out along his arms.
He asks, "Should I start, or…?"
"No," I say. "You listen. I want to get the obvious out of the way first: I like you. You already know that. My body reacts every time you're near me. But you need to understand something important—listen carefully. I will never tell you what's going on with your brother, and I will never tell your brother what I feel for you. Jealousy between you two? You'll have to figure out how to deal with it like adults and leave me out of it. My feelings are the only thing I have, and I'm going to protect them. They're mine. I'm not going to help either of you by exposing myself, because I'm nowhere near experienced in any of this. This is my first time with everything."
Killian interrupts me:
"But a man needs some certainty. I want to know if you like him more or if you feel more attracted to me."
I take a deep breath. His need is kind of sweet, but I'm not going to give in.
"I swear I don't have a secret diary where I keep score. I don't go to bed writing, 'Lucius is ahead today' or 'Killian is winning.' That's not how this works. So I'm asking you both not to turn this into some competition. I refuse to be a trophy. I have to stay here for five years—that's what I signed, and that's what I'm going to do. The day I fall madly in love with one of you, I'll tell him immediately. Until then, Carmilla Morris is going to keep moving forward, like I always have. I won't be a prisoner of my past. None of what happened to me was my fault, but I'm taking charge of my future. I'm going to laugh, I'm going to dance, and I want to discover what I'm really like when it comes to love. So I'm being clear right now: I have no idea what to expect from myself. I'm telling you again—I don't know anything about this. I was homeschooled by an old woman surrounded by flowers and books. I never had any romances before. You two are supposed to be the experts here."
Killian smiles. He doesn't have to say it out loud. Just looking at him, I know he probably deserves an Olympic gold medal for seduction. He must have had dozens of women.
I take his hand and speak from the heart:
"I just want that one day, many, many years from now, when you're an old man—even if you're still ridiculously sexy—you'll remember that you once held me in your arms and we loved each other. That you once slept with me in my bed… Okay, now you can say what you're thinking."
Killian gives me that charming smile only he can pull off and says,
"Sleep? I swear I wasn't planning on sleeping. I'm only wearing a towel, and you're sitting in front of me covering your breasts with a blanket. Right now, I'm staring at your mouth, and all I want to do is kiss you."
Surprised, I ask, "You're not even going to say, 'come here, little one'?"
My words turn him into a jaguar ready to hunt. He grabs the back of my head with his strong hand and kisses me with a passion I've never felt before. My body starts following the movement of his tongue, and I let the blanket fall. He stops, looks at my breasts, and leans down to gently bite them. I'm so turned on that for a second I think I might collapse just from his hands and mouth on my body. And I know… I know we're going to make love—wild and romantic at the same time, just like in those novels Carol used to hide on the top shelf. Yes. My first time is going to be with this perfect god, an alpha built for love.
Everything is so new to me. And I have to confess something, bestie. I don't know if this is weird or if it happens to everyone, but when Killian slides his fingers into my mouth, it sets me on fire in a way I can't control. I want him inside me. I'm ready.
I'm completely naked. He drops the towel, and I just stare, mesmerized. The first thing that comes out of my mouth is completely honest.
I stop him with my hand, pull back a few inches, and say:
"Killian, wait. I'm a virgin, and I'm scared. There's no way that huge thing between your legs is going to fit inside me."
I'm not lying, bestie—my legs are trembling, opening for him, aching for him—but it's going to be my first time, and I don't want to feel like I'm going to die.
He laughs softly, but when he realizes I'm genuinely afraid, he says,
"Relax. We'll just enjoy each other, and we'll go further only when you want to."
He keeps kissing me. I can't hold back the sounds coming out of my mouth—raw, animal sounds. I want everything, of course I do, and he can feel it. He keeps going, getting me ready to take him completely.
But the fear that it might hurt too much is still there, so I tell him,
"I'm not ready yet. For now, your kisses are more than enough."
Still staring at him, I add,
"Seriously, stop. You should come with a warning label about that thing. Promise me that at least for tonight, you won't try anything more."
He promises and behaves like a perfect gentleman—confident in his attraction, sure he'll get another chance. But if there's one thing he's right about, it's that Killian is a professional: passionate, with powerful hands and an insatiable appetite. Just with his touch and kisses, he brings me to climax once, then again. I stay there dazed, staring at his body, watching how badly he wants me, yet he holds back so considerately that I completely melt for him.
We fall asleep in each other's arms, and the morning is perfect. Before he leaves, he kisses me tenderly, and we slip back into our silly twenty-years-married game.
"Rest, love. It's still early. I have to go to work. I'll be back late."
I answer, "Dinner will be ready when you get home. Goodbye, love."
I know it's ridiculous, but it's our ridiculous thing. And you have no idea, bestie, how incredible and beautiful I feel. But I can't lie to myself—I need to lose this fear of having him inside me. I admit it: fear and pleasure don't mix well for me. That's not how I work. I want to enjoy it. I want to feel happy, loved, dominated, desired… but I'm also scared. I don't want to look back in a few years and say my first time was terrifying, but I stayed quiet and did it anyway. No. I want to say it was beautiful. Truly beautiful. So I need it to actually be beautiful.
I take a bath, then go meet Manuel for breakfast. We redesign the placement of some plants that were getting too much sun, and the crew handles the heavy work. It turns out great. Of course, Manuel tells me everything about the cabin, and I realize I'll have to redesign the entire exterior from scratch. But for that, I need to go there. The cabin is on the far side of the estate, past the lake, hidden among the trees—so far you can't even see it from here.
There are three messages on my phone. While I eat a quick lunch, I check them.
The first is from Ursula. She's sick in bed with a fever. In her own way, she makes it clear it's my absolute responsibility to survey the cabin and start working on it immediately. There are also endless praises for Mr. Longfield and his generosity in giving us this task.
The second is from Killian: a selfie next to his motorcycle saying he'll be back tonight. I reply:
"Hi, babe. Quick question—how long would it take to reach the cabin on your bike? My contract doesn't stop me from spending the night there, right?"
I feel bold. I want more of him.
The third is from Lucius, but I decide not to open it. I'll deal with that later. I want to focus on enjoying this wonderful day with his brother.
Killian answers right away:
"I'll pick you up as soon as I get back. No, the contract doesn't stop you from staying overnight because technically it's still on the estate grounds. But I'll need to get my father's permission to temporarily lift clause 7. Sneaking into your room for stolen kisses is one thing. Having the guards see us together and Ursula finding out is another—especially if we're spending the night. It's dangerous for you to stay alone. That place has been closed for years. I might have to stay with you… you know, to keep the zombies and ghosts away."
"You're the real danger," I reply.
Mr. Longfield approves it. Ursula only sends one line: "Take the task seriously. No distractions. While you're there, work and don't do anything stupid with him."
I answer: "Of course. I'll bring back a full survey of the place."
The wait feels endless. Dressed in jeans, comfortable shoes, and a white shirt, I wait in my room until Killian texts:
"Come to the garage."
I pack what I need in a backpack. When I get downstairs, he's standing next to a key cabinet and says,
"Pick a car. You drive."
I smile, thrilled, but answer,
"I never learned. Cars scare me."
He shakes his head.
"No, no, no. You said you were scared of old, rusty vehicles. So tonight I'm going to help you lose all your fears… every single one."
Leaning into my ear, he whispers,
"Hey, little one… if you want me inside you tonight—really inside you—pick one right now and get that beautiful ass in the driver's seat…"
His irresistible voice makes me tremble.
I point to the left and say,
"I want that one. The red one."