The tables near us were not occupied, though it wouldn't have mattered. I turned the full force of my anger on my-ex-boyfriend.

"What the fuck are you doing, Killian?"

"My mother wanted to meet you."

I took a slow, calming breath hoping I wouldn't start crying. "And I wanted to hear your voice, talk to you, make sure you were okay. But no, you got your suck off and gave me the fuck off. How dare you show up here tonight with your mother."

I was impressed that I managed to keep my voice relatively low.

I saw a touch of anger spark in Killian's eyes. "I told you what being with me was like during season, Rebecca. I don't like to lose."

"You know what, Killian, that's just too damn bad. I'm sorry your tricycle got mangled and messed up the shiny red paint. I'm an adult. I don't like to lose either, but I would never do what you did."

Killian's eyes went over my shoulder and I knew his mother was standing behind us.

I moved slightly so she could sit down in her chair.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacGregor, but my break is starting and I won't be available to serve your meal."

I walked away and didn't look back. I made it past the kitchen into the back storage room before I started crying. Jim, my manager, came in. He was obviously at a loss, but agreed to have another waitress cover my tables. I slipped out the back door and made it home to my apartment in one piece.

I couldn't stop the flow of tears and had no idea what time it was when someone pounded on my door. It didn't take much imagination to figure out it was Killian. I walked to the door, refusing to open it, and childishly told him to go home.

"I'm not going home, Rebecca. Open the damn door."

Maybe, I thought, we needed to end this here and now. I opened the door and stepped back.

Killian walked in and turned to face me. I closed the door behind him with a resounding thud.

"I'm sorry." His eyes showed so much hurt.

I hated myself for wanting to give in and melt against him so badlytake him in my arms and kiss him until sometime tomorrow. But I knew our relationship wasn't going to work.

"I know you're sorry Killian and I'm sure you'll be sorry the next time and the next. I can't deal with your single-minded intensity for the game. I've thought about it. You make me feel beautiful and I have more confidence in myself than I have since I was twelve years old." I took a calming breath before continuing. "But, Killian, you've hurt me more than anyone ever has. I'm not pro-sport girlfriend material. I'm middle of the pack and happy to be there. Go home, Killian, and thank you for everything."

He just stared at me and I could feel my eyes welling over. I didn't want to cry in front of him, but I knew it was pointless to think I could hold them back. I moved away from the door hoping he would leave.

He took a step closer, but didn't touch me. "I love you, Rebecca."

I closed my eyes.

"Please don't cry." Fingers brushed the side of my face. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I shut down. I was just going to drop you off at your house, not touch you, but I couldn't help myself. I'm a fucking bastard, but, baby, I love you."

I leaned forward just a bit and I was in his arms. God, I loved him, and at the same time felt a crushing pressure inside my chest. Killian picked me up and carried me to the couch.

"I love you," he said over and over, smoothing my hair away from my face, making me cry harder.

His lips finally rested against my forehead for a moment before sitting me against the couch cushions and walking away. He came back with a box of tissues. When he tried to blow my nose, I grabbed the tissue out of his hand and did it myself.

I managed to gain control, but I needed him to know how I felt. "I can't do this again, Killian." I looked up at him and saw the hurt I felt reflected in his eyes. "I love you, too, and that made this so much worse."

He kissed me. It was soft and sweet and full of promise. His arms went around me and he pulled me tight against his chest. "My mother wants you to come over for dinner this Sunday."

"Your mother hates me."

His chest rumbled and I clenched his shirt.

"She doesn't hate you. The woman won't come to any of my games. She doesn't put up with me after losing or even before a game when I won't talk. She told me years ago she'd knock my head into the nearest wall for my attitude. When I was in high school, she made me clean our apartment on game days. I'd scrub the bathroom floor on my hands and knees and she'd point out every spot I missed."

I was laughing now. "I don't think your sports psychologist is working very well, Killian."

His hand tightened in my hair. "He is. You have no idea how bad things used to be."

I pulled away and looked into his eyes. "Make love to me. Please don't fuck me."

I didn't need to say anything else. Killian carried me to my bed and slowly took my nightshirt and panties off. He stood and removed his clothes. When he leaned down on the bed, his hands and lips worshipped my body. I kissed him whenever I could reach skin.

The slow build of my orgasm made me gasp for air. Liquid heat pooled between my legs as his fingers worked their magic. I burned until the spasms overflowed. Killian's eyes found mine and his cock met the entrance to my still-quivering pussy.

"I love you, Rebecca." He slid inside.

I watched him move; his hair partially covered his eyes and his lips drew into a firm line. He moved in and out with slow, measured strokes. The heat built again, or maybe it had never stopped. Killian gritted his teeth when my next orgasm shook throughout my body, but he didn't stop.

"Please, Killian."

"I love you, Rebecca." His thrusts became harder, his breath more ragged.

I cried out when my body tightened again and this time he groaned loudly. Killian succeeded in making me feel loved.

But I still knew it wouldn't last.