Kian

  blood flow rapidly through me. I was almost drunk from the feel of it.

  He didn’t push me away. I grew bolder, sliding my hand down his chest, feeling the dip of his muscles. My fingers grazed over each of them, and even though his shirt was on, I knew he was a masterpiece. My fingers fell to the top of his jeans, and I looked up. His eyes were closed. His forehead was close to mine, almost resting on top of me if I were to move up on my toes. He was breathing in and out, letting me explore him how I wanted.

  My chest rose up and down. I started to breathe deep, and I swallowed as my fingers slipped inside his jeans. I was telling him what I wanted. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted for sure. I just wanted him. I knew that much, but I wanted him to touch me back. I wanted him to press against me. I wanted him to touch his lips to mine.

  His eyes opened. He was looking right into me, his gaze bearing down on me. His eyes turned black, and his hand lifted to cup the side of my face. His thumb rested at the corner of my mouth. He didn’t touch my lips. He held me there, staring into me.

  A flashback from the courtroom flitted across my memory. He was always watching for me, and when I stepped inside the room, his eyes would hold mine, and it was like he knew me intimately. It was him and I. We were one.

  I saw the same look now.

  He could see inside me.

  It was like he was a part of me. Again.

  He lowered his head, and I closed my eyes. His lips hovered above mine.

  My heart was trying to come out of my chest. The room was spinning. My cheeks were bright red. I felt feverish, and damn, I wanted that one touch from him.

  It was there, right there…and then it was gone.

  Kian ripped himself away. “No, Jordan. No.” He stood, moving toward the kitchen.

  “What? What happened?” No way. I rose and went after him. He was about to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me. I felt it from him.

  His hand lifted, as if to warn me away, but it changed. Everything about him changed. His face cleared, his eyes found mine again. “No, Jordan—fuck it.” His hands caught my face, and his lips were on mine in the next instant.

  I gasped, but his lips were touching mine with a smooth pressure. I was lost in the feelings. His hands were gentle on my face, and then he paused. I felt him grinning against my lips.

  He breathed out, “Is this okay?”

  Winding my arms around his neck, I surged against him. “Hell, yes.”

  He caught my waist and lifted me onto the table. His mouth became more demanding, applying more pressure, and desire was building throughout my body. The flames were licking inside me. They were twirling, rising, and spreading from my face to my toes. He leaned into me, angling his head for better access. My lips opened, and he entered, but I felt him hesitate again. I almost sighed in contentment.

  It felt so right.

  I didn’t question it, not anymore. This was right. There could be no wrong.

  My legs parted, and he moved between them. As his tongue slid against mine, his hand caught the back of my neck to hold me. Even anchored, I was slipping away. My mind was turning off. I was feeling only him, feeling the two of us. This was what I’d wanted to do since I’d learned he had been released.

  His other hand fell to my hip, and he strained even more against me. He was still trembling, trying to be gentle. His tongue rested against mine, and his hand went back to cradling my face. His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Jordan.”

  I shook my head, my mouth fusing against his. No words. Just him. Just me. Just us.

  Grabbing his shirt, I held him close and then slid my hands underneath. He sucked in his breath, and I felt how tense he was. He was still holding himself back. I growled. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted him to stop thinking.

  “Stop.” He pulled back, panting, as he rested his forehead on mine.

  “Kian.”

  “Jordan.” His hand caught the back of my neck again, and he held me still, forcing me to look into his eyes.

  Desire swirled there along with fury, regret, and something else…control? I swallowed tightly. He was barely holding on to himself. I saw it then. He wanted me, too, maybe even more than I wanted him. Why—

  He roughly answered me, “I want nothing more than to tear into you and fuck you on this counter, but”—his voice gentled—“we have to slow down and think about this.”

  “No.”

  His hand tightened on my neck. “Yes,” he ground out.

  “No.” I shoved his arm down.

  This wasn’t me. I wasn’t hotheaded and demanding, but for some reason, I was liking this new Jordan. For once, I knew what I wanted. For once, I wasn’t holding back. I wanted Kian. He wanted me, too. What was the problem?

  I reached for him again, but he caught my hand and held it in a tight grip.

  I gasped. A rush went through me. This tug-of-war between us was a battle of who was going to dominate whom. The intoxication from being with him kicked up a notch. My blood was buzzing.

  I tried with my other hand. He caught that one, too, and a steel look came over him. His jaw tightened with a new expression, one that brought tension to the air. I stilled, waiting to see what he would do next.

  There it was. The dangerous side of Kian was being unmasked to me. He was furious, but he wanted me. I didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe I should’ve, but an innate part of me knew he wouldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t in him. Not toward me. Others, yes, but never me.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He still had my hands pinned down, and then his eyes moved to slits. He lowered his head, raking me up and down. I felt his gaze, and the lust was almost blinding me to everything. His eyes snapped back to mine, and a predator was looking back at me. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve fought back. I would’ve pushed the person away and ran but not Kian.

  I wanted this. Hell, I was relishing this.

  He moved into me. Still holding my hands in his, he pulled my hips out to the edge of the table, and then he slowly leaned closer to me, dominating me. I began falling back, but he caught me. He lowered me until I was lying on the table before him. I was displayed to him. He could do anything he wanted.

  My one hand was still pinned to the table beside my head as he gripped my other, still on my hip. His thumb began moving up and down over my shirt, sliding over my stomach and jeans. My pulse was racing. An ache had formed between my legs. I wanted more of him there, and as if sensing my last thought, he rubbed himself against me.

  I gasped again but bit down on my lip, silencing myself. I didn’t want him to go away. I wanted more.

  His hand rested on my zipper. I wanted him to take it down. I wanted his hand to go inside, to touch me. I wanted more, but I was damn near melting just from that intimate touch.

  “Kian.” His name slipped from my lips.

  His head lifted, and he saw me watching him. A small smirk appeared, and as it did, he transferred my hand to my other one. His left hand took my hands, so I was pinned down and splayed out for him. His free hand went back to my pants, and he pulled the zipper down.

  Oh God.

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I wanted to get lost in his touch.

  “No,” he said, catching my head.

  My eyes opened, and he was watching me.

  He said, “I want you to see.”

  I looked down right as his hand left my chin and flicked my jeans open. The ache was building. His hand rested above my underwear, and then he moved them aside, too. I looked back. He wasn’t looking at what he was doing. He was just looking at me. That sent a surge of new pleasure through me, and I opened my legs even more for him.

  His finger rubbed against the top of me.

  Yes.

  He bent down, his eyes still holding mine captive. They switched to my lips at the last second. His mouth touched mine again as his finger slid inside me, and I cried out into his mouth. He plunged his finger deep into me, and I almost lifted off the table from the
power of it. I screamed into his mouth, and it was the primal kind. I wanted him to go harder, deeper. I didn’t want him to pause, but as he did, I started panting. I wanted to beg him to go again, and he did, in and out. His finger moved into me as he kept kissing me. His tongue slid inside as a second finger entered me. I felt him reach all the way to the back, and he upped the pace.

  I was coming undone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t participate. He held me down with his one hand still. My legs lifted to go around his waist. He shifted, so his hip kept me from closing the distance to bury his fingers in me, but I wanted that. I wanted him inside me.

  He kept going, in and out. His mouth kept moving over mine. He was holding me prisoner to his touch. Right before I was going to come, he paused, and his fingers slid out of me.

  “No.” I ripped a hand free and grabbed his. I pushed it back. “Do. Not. Stop.”

  He lifted his head, gazing down at me in question.

  I flashed him a warning. “I mean it.”

  The corner of his mouth slowly curved into a delicious grin, but instead of thrusting back inside me, his hand slid under my hip, and he lifted me in one motion. My legs wound tighter around his waist. His left hand released my hands and caught the back of my neck. He held me rigid in his arms as he carried me to the bedroom. He laid me down onto the bed, and I was still panting.

  I needed him.

  He reached for my shirt but paused, looking at me again. A switch happened. He frowned. A flash of something—regret?—appeared in his eyes, dimming the fury, and he shook his head. He pulled back.

  “Kian.” I grabbed his wrist. I was dominating him now. “No.”

  “Yes.” His chest was rising up and down.

  The need for him was clawing up my throat, but I recognized it in him. He needed me, too, but his hand gentled on my neck.

  He stood away from the bed. “What did I do? What if I hurt you?” He began shaking his head.

  I sat up and caught his arm. “Kian, no. I still want this. You wouldn’t have.”

  He kept shaking his head. “No, I—no, Jordan. I…” He faltered. His eyes closed, and he rubbed at his forehead.

  “Stop it, Kian.” I yanked on him. My pulse was still going. My blood was still buzzing.

  Holy shit, I still wanted him, but he thought he had hurt me. It was the opposite.

  “I could’ve hurt you.” His hand lifted in a helpless gesture before falling back to his side. “I wanted to fuck you. Hard.”

  “Good.” I jerked my chin up. “The harder, the better.”

  He frowned, and then a grin appeared. “What?” His hand rose to grip his hair, and he held it there. “My God, Jordan. You don’t get it. I don’t think you ever will.”

  He wanted to screw.

  I didn’t see the problem. “What are you talking about?”

  “I could’ve lost control. Me? I can’t lose control. Ever. You don’t get it.”

  “Losing control is the whole purpose of fucking. No, I don’t get it. I want you to lose control. I still want you—”

  “I lost control once and went to prison.”

  I stopped.

  A chill went through me now, and I saw the desperation in his eyes. He was still trembling. I shook my head. No, it’s not the same.

  “It wouldn’t be the same way.”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  I advanced toward him, touching my chest. “I am the only one who knows what you’re capable of, just like you’re the only one who’s seen me at my most vulnerable. You’ve seen me stripped bare. He could’ve done whatever he wanted. I was the most helpless that I’ll ever be in my life.” A ball grew in my throat.

  The words didn’t want to come. Hell, I didn’t want to say them, but this was important. Everything in me was screaming to let this out. It needed to be said, and somehow, I hoped it would help him. Somehow, it had to.

  “Kian,” I murmured, moving with caution toward him. I was nearing a cornered wild animal, one that was wounded. I needed to go so carefully. “You lost control with Edmund because he was hurting me. You stopped him. Losing control that day and losing control with me—they’re two very different things. This is something else. It’s life. What you did to Edmund was to punish him. You saved me. You ended a life. Two completely separate things.”

  “I can’t ever hurt you.” He shook his head. “I was in prison for two years. Thinking of you…I wanted to be with you even then. You were the first thing I thought about when I got out. I could finally see you. I realized you were hiding, and I had to find you. It felt like it did in high school—” He bit off his next words.

  What? I frowned. My voice was hoarse again. “Finish that sentence.”

  He didn’t. He waited, holding my gaze steady.

  “It felt like it did in high school,” I started for him. This was important, whatever he was holding back. “What about high school? How was it like in high school?”

  His gaze was lidded as he watched me. There was yearning there, but anger sparked, too. It flamed up, and his jaw clenched once again, but he still said nothing.

  I had to know. “Kian.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Kian.” I reached for him.

  He brushed me off, retreating from the room. He’d moved with such litheness that I stopped from going after him. It hadn’t been a big movement, but it was how he’d moved.

  I remembered how fast he’d sliced Edmund’s throat. At one moment, Kian had stared at me. I had seen the intent in his eyes, but before I could register it and say something or even consider saying something, it had been done. He’d held Edmund in front of him, his arm paralyzing Edmund against himself, and then his arm had slashed in one smooth motion. It had been done. Edmund had watched me, too, his eyes wild and frenzied. He had tried to struggle against Kian’s hold, but Kian brought the knife across Edmund’s throat and then let him fall.

  Kian was a killer.

  The reminder was glaring to me. Caution and warning mixed with the lust swirling inside me.

  It didn’t matter. I still wanted him. “Kian.” My throat was filled with emotion. It hurt to call for him. When I stepped from the room, he was pulling on a jacket by the back door.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, bracing a hand against the wall.

  His eyes were tortured. The fury and desperation were gone. He was haunted now.

  “I need to calm down because I’m two seconds away from grabbing you and taking you against the wall.”

  Yes! My eyes lit up. I started to grin.

  I wanted nothing else, but he clipped his head from side to side and reached for the door. He was outside in the next second. I hurried to the door, grabbing the handle. It wouldn’t open. He was holding it from the other side.

  His voice came through the door, low and quiet. “You can’t follow me.”

  “Kian.” I hit the door with my fist.

  “When I’m with you, it won’t be while we’re hiding. It won’t be when I can’t hold your hand in daylight. It won’t be when I have to call you a different name. And it won’t be fucking. It’ll be tender. It’ll mean something.”

  I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the door. With each statement, the fight left me.

  He added, his voice rough, “It’ll be when I can call you mine to the world. Until then, let me cool off.” He quieted for a beat. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  I felt his absence more than hearing him walking away from the door.

  I took in a gasping breath, feeling the tears burning at the corners of my eyes, waiting to be shed. I didn’t let them fall, but they burned me, just as his words had singed me. Turning against the door, I slid down to the floor and bent forward, my head hanging over my knees.

  I let the tears fall.