10. Avery
AVERY
I’d have agreed to six. Ten. Thirty.
However many children Kill wanted, I’d have. If I was really his wife, or a potential wife.
Okay, maybe thirty is excessive. Draw the line at five. Six, tops.
But seriously, dressed half casually, in grey trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms and top button undone showing more tattoos, I can’t be held responsible for the response of my ovaries. They’re practically flinging themselves at him. Little tarts.
And as he walks me back to my room after our dinner and walk on the beach, my pulse does a ridiculous pitter-patter.
I pause outside the door, and turn. And when I do, I have to crane my neck to look at him, because he’s very close, and very tall.
Big. All over. If the speculations of the other girls are to be believed. My heart thumps harder.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” My voice is barely there. All wispy.
He places a hand on the wall next to my head, and leans in. Every part of me sparks in response to his nearness, and the feeling of his solid muscle screening me from view. Protecting me. “I enjoyed getting to know you more.”
“Same.” I look into his green eyes, and I’m lost. He’s a deep, dark forest that I’ll never escape.
He lowers his head so slowly, I could easily duck, or flinch. But I do the opposite, rising onto my tip-toes to meet him.
His breath ghosts over my lips.
Our mouths touch.
Then he’s kissing me. No hands, nothing but that single point of controlled contact. He’s warm, and tastes of salt and the sweet dessert we shared and him. There’s something else that makes arousal unfurl low in my belly just from this one kiss, slow and restrained.
Unlike our first kiss that night, this is all leashed need.
And it’s over far too quickly. His pupils are blown, the green a thin circle when he raises his head and gives me a rueful smile.
“Good night, love,” he murmurs.
And I tremble.