Against All Odds

Chapter 11

KILLIAN

Even after the buzz of whatever device Mia had used to facilitate her bout of clamorous self-pleasure, sleep eluded me.

Perhaps it was Stella's lack of response that bothered me, her dismissal of my flirtations hitting a sore spot I didn't readily acknowledge I still had for her. Right then, if somebody asked me what state I lived in, I would have to answer... denial.

And, surprisingly, it would seem that she was being the more reasonable one between us.

I turned onto my back and stared blankly at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, the gentle distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore permeating the walls of the room. Silver streaks of moonlight filtered through the wooden slats of the blinds. Everything about the house and the environment should lull me into a sense of calm, should promote an easy and unimpeded night's sleep... but it was not to be.

Not while all I could think about was her.

Her expressive eyes that filled with humour and mischievousness whenever I messaged her. Her sultry and sometimes goofy smile as she tilted her head to her phone's screen. The tangled mass of hair that fell in unruly waves about her freckled and sunburnt shoulders.

Whatever defences I had raised to ward off her charm and appeal were failing, pathetically at that. I liked watching her simply being her- her confidence while she laughed and joked with our friends, unashamedly wearing only a bikini despite what Mia had said; the way she did a happy little jig when she found her pizza in the microwave that I had saved for her and shoved almost the entire slice into her mouth.

But it was the feel of her silken skin in my hand as I rested my palm against the flare of her hip that stirred my arousal, sent blood rushing to my cock.

Stifling a groan, I sat up and swung my legs from the bed. At this rate, I would be sporting a constant hard on- embarrassingly so. Numerous times throughout the day I had to remain glued to my chair until the erection tenting my shorts had dissipated suitably enough to not make a fool of myself in front of my friends.

All because Stella simply existed, and no one could affect me the way that she did.

What are you doing?

Her question played over and over again in my mind as I stood and padded from the room. The house was quiet and dark, all the other occupants having retired for the evening hours ago. I made my way to the stairs, descending them carefully and silently.

I didn't know what I was doing with Stella, reopening the easy flirtation between us. I wouldn't deny myself that I wanted her, but anything more than sex?

A future with her after this? Was that even feasible?

She hadn't wanted one before, why would she now? And perhaps I was getting ahead of myself thinking in those terms. It stood to reason that Stella, in all likelihood, was just having a bit of holiday fun... a fling?

Hmm.

Maybe a fling was the answer. Our relationship had failed when we had lived together. We lived on different continents now and I did not hold any illusions that we'd survive a long-distance arrangement.

I didn't have any answer, and perhaps I didn't need one.

Entering the kitchen, I turned on the dimmer lights situated under the cabinets. The place was a mess, countertops littered with empty beer bottles, take out containers and filthy dishes. Little had changed since our youth and I silently endured the turmoil even if my inner orderliness was rebelling, making a note to rectify some of the mess come morning.