Hungry Heart 18+

TWENTY TWO |

Brianna's POV

The aroma of sizzling bacon and frying eggs pulled me from a deep, restless sleep. My muscles ached, a dull throb echoing in my bones. Blinking against the dim light, I saw Killian's face hovering above me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Yeah," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. "How long was I out?"

"Just another hour," he replied. "Kane got food. Are you hungry?"

My stomach rumbled its emphatic agreement, a loud, rumbling protest against its emptiness. We both chuckled at the involuntary response before he nodded. As I sat up, a sudden, uncomfortable wetness between my legs made me wince. The lingering effects of the previous night's events were a stark reminder of the exhaustion that clung to me.

A wave of dizziness threatened to send me sprawling as I navigated the short distance to the bathroom, my legs still heavy with sleep. The cool porcelain of the sink was a welcome contrast to the lingering warmth between my thighs. I splashed water on my face, the shock momentarily clearing the fog in my brain, before attending to the more pressing matter. The quick cleanup felt inadequate, a fleeting attempt to erase the evidence of the night before.

Returning to the main room with only white towel wrapped around my body, I found Killian already dressed in his sweatpants. My breath hitched. Killian. Here. Just...standing there. His chest, bare, the stark contrast of his single, inky arm against his pale skin... it was... arresting. The way his eyes, hooded and dark, lingered on me, that hungry look... it sent a shiver down my spine, a completely different kind of shiver than the ones I'd been getting from Kane's... forceful gentleness. This was raw, primal. A hunger that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. It was a stark contrast to Kane's vibrant, colorful tattoos, a whole canvas of art covering his body. Killian's single tattoo felt... more intimate, more mysterious. More him. And in this moment, amidst the chaos of the last few days, the lies, the contract... this felt... right. Wrong, maybe. But undeniably, intensely right.

He approaches, his gaze unwavering, a heat in his eyes that makes my breath catch. He holds out a shirt, a silent offering. "Oh," I whisper, a giggle bubbling up as I lift my arms. His eyes roll, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he dresses me. The shirt falls to mid-thigh, a wave of his scent - clean, intensely masculine - washing over me. I bury my face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, a sigh escaping my lips. "Mmm," I murmur, intoxicated. He winks, a mischievous glint in his eyes, then his fingers intertwine with mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

Smiling at Killian, I step into the dining room. Seven takeout containers! Chinese, Mexican, Russian Italian...sushi...two kinds of American food. It's a feast for the eyes, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. Kane practically beams when he sees me, and my heart does a little fluttery thing. He's always been so...intense, so passionate. It's exciting, terrifying, and strangely comforting all at once. But then... I let go of Killian's hand. Why? Guilt, I guess. This is all so new. Even after yesterday... I'm still so confused. What do they see in me? What makes me so...special to them, especially Kane, with his burning gaze and the way he makes me feel like the only person in the room? It's overwhelming, exhilarating, and a little bit scary.

His eyes, laser-focused on our intertwined hands, sent a jolt of panic through me. I dropped Killian's hand instantly, the heat of shame flooding my cheeks. Good God, I'm engaged to Kane! The sheer audacity of the situation hit me like a wave.

Oh, no. Why did I do that? Dropping Killian's hand felt...wrong. Like a physical manifestation of the impossible choice I'm facing. My gut twisted, a tiny, painful knot.