15. Killian #2
Malone sends a sparring partner for me to battle with. Some young guy with big ambition and a lot of nerve. But he serves his purpose as we spar and he serves as a stand-in for The Tank.
My breathing’s ragged. Sweat drips down my back.
Jhene’s still got her nose buried in her puzzle book, but the other thoughts in my head won’t stop circling back to her.
As I throw more jabs at my sparring partner, I’m thinking about her pretty face. The dark eyes she hides behind her glasses.
…fuck, the way she looked in that tiny green dress at the party. It really was too damn short, yet it fit her like a glove, highlighting the knockout figure I always knew she had. That’s always been hidden under her baggy, ill-fitted T-shirts and jeans.
Every man at the party knew how good she looked.
Could I really blame Cian for making a move? I might’ve too if I were him.
Yet I’ve got her under my roof—often sleeping in my fucking bed—and I don’t. I’ve forced myself to fight the feelings that grow stronger by the day…
By the time I’m done, I’m soaked with sweat and the gym’s nearly empty. Malone gives me a nod of approval as I unwrap my hands, then disappears into his office to handle whatever paperwork gym owners deal with.
Jhene closes her puzzle book and stands, stretching her arms above her head in a way that makes her shirt ride up and show her navel.
I grit my teeth and snap my head in the opposite direction to avoid looking.
We walk home in more uncomfortable silence.
The problem with two introverts is neither one wants to be the first to talk. Especially when the last real conversation we had was an argument about whatever the hell’s going on between us.
I still don’t know the answer to that question.
All I know is I’m basically addicted to Jhene Prince. She’s a constant on my mind. I worry as soon as she’s not in my sight. I’m willing to fight the entire Russian mob for her.
When I saw her in that green dress, my heart started racing so fast it was startling. My pulse was jumping inside my veins. Then when I saw Cian touching her, brushing a curl away from her face… there’re no words for the level of rage and jealousy I felt.
It should be me doing that.
But I’ve always been slow when it comes to women. I don’t know how to do serious relationships. Never been the type to be vulnerable or let somebody in on how I’m feeling.
That’s why I’ve always figured I’m better off alone.
So what the hell does it mean that I can’t get a woman out of my head? Does it mean anything or am I driving myself mad for no reason?
We reach my building and climb the stairs in the same heavy silence. Neither of us are willing to break it.
The first thing I do when we walk through the door is yank my soaked wifebeater over my head and toss it on the floor.
I’ll pick it up later. Probably.
Jhene’s got other ideas.
She snatches the shirt off the ground before I’ve even taken two steps. “Would it kill you to stop treating the floor like a hamper?”
I clench my teeth. “I always pick up after myself. Eventually.”
“Eventually being the operative word.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” I snap.
We’re both irritable as we exchange stubborn glares. She’s obviously picking a fight over a goddamn shirt.
She drops the tank, dark eyes blazing behind her oversized glasses. “Do you even have to ask? You’ve made me your shadow when we can’t even stand each other! How would you like to follow someone around like you have no life of your own?”
“It’s for your safety,” I grunt. “And who says we can’t stand each other?”
“Stop kidding yourself, Killer.” She laughs, no humor to be found. “You can’t wait to get rid of me.”
“Who keeps trying to sneak away from who again?”
She ignores the jab, pressing forward instead. “Then why are you always avoiding me? Why don’t you talk to me? Why are you always scowling and grumpy and acting like I’m such a nuisance?”
“You don’t get it.”
“You’re right—I don’t. So tell me!”
I shake my head and turn toward the bathroom. I need a shower. Some time to cool down and put space between us before I say something I can’t take back.
“Ugh,” Jhene groans out of frustration. “That’s what you always do. You avoid addressing our issues! Then you act like nothing ever happened. Every single time things get real, you just walk away.”
I’m not sure what it is about what she says that sets me off.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been fighting hard to keep myself in check and here she is, so fucking boldly tempting me again.
My temper snaps.
I whip around so fast she takes a step back. Her lashes flutter as her eyes go wider. What she doesn’t know is I’m done avoiding the situation. Done pretending I’m not fazed by what’s going on between us.
“You want to know?” I growl at her. “You want me to tell you why I’m always fucking scowling and trying my damnedest to avoid you?”
She opens her mouth as if to respond, but I don’t give her the chance.
I’ve already closed the gap between us in two brisk steps, hooking an arm around her waist and wrenching her toward me. I crush my lips to hers in a kiss that’s been building for days. A kiss that explodes with tension and unrestrained desire.
Her lips fall open against mine as she angles her head and kisses me back. She instantly gives in out of the same frustration I’m feeling.
After days of dancing around each other, it’s impossible not to.
We kiss like two frantic people desperate to devour each other.
I fill my large hands with her heart-shaped face and push my tongue into her mouth. I’m not polite about it—or gentlemanly. I’m fucking demanding as it lashes against hers in massaging strokes.
Almost violently, like we’re still locked into a fight. Only a different kind this time.
I plunder her mouth, reveling in the pillow-soft feel of her lips. The sweet, warm taste of her and how she reacts to every minor shift in our kiss.
Her hands rest on my chest. Right over my heart that’s pounding away inside my ribcage.
Then she’s sliding her arms over my shoulders and around my neck. She’s hanging onto me as I angle her head back and deepen the kiss even more.
Tasting every inch of her. Savoring every second of it.
Craving her in a way I’ve never wanted a woman before. It’s heady and primal and so fucking intense my mind reels at the prospect. It can’t comprehend ever going without her again.
There’s no going back. There’s no point of return from this.
When I finally tear my mouth away from hers, we’re both panting. Her glasses are fogged and askew, lips swollen and moist. Her chest heaves as fast as mine is.
My forehead drops to rest against hers as I try to remember how to think.
“That’s why,” I rasp, voice wrecked. “Because I’m so attracted to you—borderline fucking obsessed—and I’m afraid I’ll lose my mind if I give in. Because keeping you at arm’s length is the only way I keep myself in check.”
She’s dazed, blinking up at me. Her dark eyes search mine, lips still parted from the kiss.
For seconds to come, neither of us moves. We don’t utter a single damn word. We only breathe, processing the moment for what it is.
Accepting the fact that we keep ending up here.
We’ve fought the attraction and the draw and still we wind up relapsing. So what’s the fucking point?
Jhene grabs at the tuft of hair on my nape and yanks my mouth down to hers. That’s all it takes for us to pick up where we’ve left off; our mouths crash together and we stop holding back.
She wraps her legs around me and I pick her up off her feet, and we kiss as I walk us blindly to the bed. I deposit her, hardly pausing between the hard, passionate kisses we exchange.
As soon as she’s landed, I’m on her again.
My mouth’s back on hers as her soft hands skim across my bare chest and hot blood rushes to my cock. Even a simple handshake from Jhene would make me hard at this point.
But her hands on my chest? In my hair?
Her body pressing against mine and the breaths she draws in between our kisses?
It’s enough to make any sane man lose his mind. Damn sure enough to make him instantly hard.
It’s been weeks since I’ve had sex. Since I’ve even allowed myself release. To say I’ve got a case of blue balls would be a huge fucking understatement.
I’m hard and ready to go seconds into our make-out session. She must feel that I am. We roll around on the bed and she winds up on top, sitting astride me as my hand slides down her spine and winds up at the small of her back.
We’re kissing deeply, sucking on tongues and biting and tugging lips. All the teasing little games you engage in when you’re in the middle of foreplay.
Jhene cards her fingers through my hair. She scratches at the edges of my jaw. She rocks her hips against mine as my hard-on grows larger and stiffer.
More pressure builds in my balls. More blood pumping into my cock ’til it’s uncomfortable.
But damn if it isn’t also exhilarating.
I chase her lips, pulling her back down on me when she tries to stray. We crash together again and again in heavy kisses and release hard pants for air.
Distantly, I’m aware what a mistake this could be. How I’ve broken the vow I made, which was to never take advantage of Jhene.
This girl has been to hell and back, and here I am kissing her senseless in my bed. But every time I even vaguely think about pulling back, she’s flicking her tongue against mine. She’s moaning into my mouth, and my hand slips to palm her ass.
Her curls crowd around my face as she lays on top of me, and every curve of her body’s pressed into me. How the fuck do you have enough willpower to fight against something that seems so damn inevitable? Something that’s more powerful than both of us put together?
Jhene strokes my beard and then murmurs against my lips, “I want to keep going.”
My only answer is a thick grunt, hand still on her ass as she kisses my jaw and her curls tickle my skin. I’m damn near in bliss right now, so much so I don’t want to ruin it.
“But…” she goes on softly. Her breath warm and light on me. “I… need to go slow.”
“Jhene…”
“Let me see more of you.”