Killian (The Sons of Dusty Walker Book 3) by Desiree Holt

kept her company for a little while, but then he insisted on leaving. He told her he didn’t want to subject her to the gossip if people saw him leaving in the daylight hours.
    “I don’t care,” she kept telling him.
    “But I do.” He’d kissed her on the tip of her nose. “There’ll be enough tongues wagging as it is. Hell, I’d stand in your window nude with a sign saying Lexie Rocks if I didn’t know what the fallout would be. I’m thinking of you, darlin’.”
    She wanted to tell him she was tired of being such a good girl. It was boring. Maybe boring was what she’d wanted when she first came home and opened the coffee shop, but she was ready for a little spice. And Killian Walker was definitely her choice from the spice rack, even if he would be gone by the end of the week.
    But what if I can get him to change his mind?
    She gave herself a mental smack. Trying to nail him to Red Creek was a sure path to disaster. She could tell, not just from what he said but from the things he didn’t say. At least, this way, when he left, it would be with great memories of her and, hopefully, a desire for more. Sometime. Someplace.
    She’d had a feeling last night Killian had been holding something back, and not just an inner part of himself. The sex had been way off the charts, yet she sensed a darkness in him he’d managed to put a leash on. Could she find the key to opening that door? If so, when he left she’d have some darkly erotic memories to keep her very warm on the long nights afterwards.
    As she pulled the last of the pans from the oven, however, she contented herself with knowing there were traces of his on her linens, a sharp earthy scent that made her hormones dance and shout. She paused and wrapped her arms around her body, imagining they were his arms and remembering the feel of them holding her close to him. She closed her eyes, remembering the warmth of him, the feel of the hard planes of his chest against her breasts. The soft, scratchy sensation of the curls of his chest hair on her skin. His thick cock slowly sliding into the wet clasp of her body, stretching her, filling her completely.
    And orgasms so explosive, she still felt the tremors from when she came completely apart.
    There was something else wrapping around her, too. Something too dangerous for her to think about. Killian was leaving when his stint at D. Walker Minerals was up. He’d been pretty open that his future plans did not include the company or Red Creek. She needed to put a lid on the intense emotions she felt for him or she’d really be hurting when he left.
    She glanced at the clock and realized she was a little ahead of schedule, so she headed back upstairs. In her bedroom, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a long ratty sleep shirt she used when she immersed herself in her secret. Well, sort of secret. People knew about it, but they had no idea she still harbored secret dreams, or that they were her medicine when she needed comfort.
    She took a moment to fix herself a cup of coffee then carried it with her to the closed door in the wall opposite the front of the apartment. When she opened it, she took a moment to look around the room. Sunlight poured in through the big window, bathing the room in natural light and kissing the canvases stacked against the wall. Two unfinished ones stood on easels, angled to take maximum benefit of the natural light. They were uncovered because, for one thing, hardly anyone ever came up to her apartment and, for another, she never brought a guest into this room.
    Holding her mug and sipping from it, she considered the painting she’d started yesterday morning before opening Heart Starter. In seconds, she was holding her brush and palette and filling in the portrait of Killian Walker with bold strokes. At least, after he left, she’d have an image of him to keep her heart warm. She stopped a moment to set the little alarm clock she kept on a low table. If she didn’t, she’d be up here