Chapter 5 #2
Of course he kisses like he owns the very air I breathe. And of course, my body betrays me, responding on instinct. My mouth parts and I grip his shirt, pulling him closer instead of shoving him away like I should be.
I really need to work on my self-control. Because, clearly, I don’t possess a damn ounce of it right now. One hot guy pays attention to me, and suddenly, I'm melting in his arms?
Absolutely not.
Except that’s exactly what’s happening.
I should be furious. I should be shoving him off, throwing out some stupid comment to put distance between us, but instead, I’m sinking into him.
The second my lips part, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming every inch like he’s starving for me. A low, satisfied groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against my skin, and that’s it. I’m done for.
I meet his intensity with my own, my fingers twisting into his hair, dragging him closer.
His grip tightens at my waist and I feel his palm on the small of my back as he pulls me against him. The heat of his body is everywhere, consuming and setting fire to every nerve ending I have left.
He tilts my head back, deepening the kiss.
God help me, I let him.
Because right now, I don’t care about logic. I don’t care that Kane is probably nothing but trouble.
All I care about is how he tastes. Whiskey, and something dark, something that makes me ache in a way I don’t want to think about.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, sharp enough to send a shockwave of heat straight through me. A broken gasp escapes, and that must be all the permission he needs, because his hand slides lower, gripping my hips, anchoring me to him.
I’m so fucked.
I’m never drinking again. I know I’ll regret this, but right now I don’t give a damn about anything except the way his mouth moves against mine.
His kiss is relentless, and damn, he’s good at it.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers that I should be mildly embarrassed by how easily I caved. But I’m not.
One little kiss won’t hurt. His grip tightens as he holds me still.
Heat pours through me like wildfire. My hands slide up his chest and my body presses into his. I swear I hear a low, dangerous growl vibrating against my lips like a promise. Before I can even process what’s happening, he pulls away.
He steps back so suddenly, I almost stumble forward, like my body physically refuses to let him go.
And then he has the audacity to smile at me. What felt like an eternity was probably only a few seconds, but fuck. I’m left standing there, completely untethered.
I blink, trying to regain control of my traitorous, weak-willed body, as my mind scrambles to process what the hell just happened.
Because no one who kisses me after this will stand a chance. And that was nothing.
I school my features into something vaguely resembling composure, even though every cell in my body is currently rioting against me.
This is not how I imagined my grand exit would go.
I’m frozen, standing here like an idiot. He’s watching me like he knows I have no goddamn clue what to do with myself right now. I need to get out of here before I do something I'll regret. Like kiss him again.
Or worse, want to kiss him again.
Summoning whatever shred of dignity I have left, I extend my hand, palm up. “Phone,” I demand, my voice blessedly steady.
His brows lift slightly, and I see a flicker of amusement dancing in those sharp, assessing eyes. Without hesitation, he slips his phone into my palm and his fingers graze mine just long enough to be annoyingly intentional.
The slight lift of his lips tells me he wanted me to notice.
I narrow my eyes but say nothing, focusing on typing out my number. I add myself as Your Royal Highness before handing it back. Petty is a personality trait at this point.
“If you turn out to be a creep, I’m going to be really pissed,” I warn, crossing my arms.
His smile deepens, like I just handed him my resignation letter and he’s already planning my downfall.
“Oh, don’t worry, Princess,” his voice drags over the word. “If I were a creep, you’d already know it.”
My brows shoot up. “Wow. That’s… comforting.”
He winks.
I scoff, shaking my head. “Thanks again for not letting me fall,” I force a breezy tone even though my skin still tingles where he touched me.
His smile widens like I’m entertaining him.
Perfect. That’s exactly what I need, him thinking I’m cute while I’m over here desperately trying not to combust.
And in typical, infuriating Kane fashion, he adds, “Anytime. Maybe you should go practice some darts, so that next time you actually stand a chance at winning.”
Mouth open, I stare at him for a moment, completely thrown.
Seriously?
He kisses me like that, practically melts my brain, and now he’s going back to this? I quickly recover, snapping my mouth shut before the words I’ll likely never see you again slip out.
Instead, I punch him. Apparently, I woke up from my nap today choosing violence.
His deep, rich laughter follows me as I turn away, and I know that sound is going to haunt me later but over my dead body am I letting him have the last word.