He glared, his brows pinching before he picked up the bottle of nail polish and eyed it like it was a live specimen. The bottle looked tiny in his big hand. Was he considering my request? Was he about to polish my nails? I sat higher, waiting and anxious, as my leg jumped and my heart raced in anticipation.
His eyes shifted from the bottle to my hand before his gaze met mine. “I’ve never painted anything living before, but I’ll do my best.”
His response blew my mind. It flew apart even wider when he sat and laid out his hand for mine. I sat my hand in his warm palm, my gaze fixed on his face. Although the skin of his palm was rough, it didn’t take away the delicate touch that made my hand tingle, a sensation that was working its way up my arm. He placed the bottle on the in-table before he lifted the brush as if handling plutonium and bought it to my index finger first.
A deep smile covered my face and fanned out over my body as the priceless sight forced tears to sting the backs of my eyes. Watching him be so careful and doing something I knew was out of character for him was making me emotional. He concentrated hard, brushing the polish on with light, careful strokes of the brush.
He was doing a better job than me. He took his time with each finger, determination set in his expression and in the way he leaned into every action, every stroke. This moment with him was more intimate than if he had kissed me, a moment I would always cherish.
Once each nail was done, he glanced at me expectantly, waiting for my opinion. The teeth-bearing grin I flashed caused the corners of his mouth to lift as his smile brought a youthful glow to his face. “It looks great. Far better job than I would have done. See.” I held up my not so neatly painted left hand next to his to drive home my point.
My heart was on the verge of being stolen, and Khane had both of his big hands wrapped around it, threatening to snatch it from my chest. He left me smiling at my nails, but my eyes followed him until only the sound of his movement called back.
I wanted to linger in his company, but I fought my impulses so I wouldn’t chase him off and spend three days waiting to see him again.
Although I hadn’t heard a peep from Khane since he had polished my nails, I sensed him in the house. When noon approached, I went in search of him. I started to droop with disappointment and drag with sadness when I couldn’t find him.
The last place I checked was the lookout, and there he was in all his splendid masculine glory. He stood at the rail’s edge, and although he was fully covered in a navy T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans, it didn’t hide his manly physique. He wore house slippers, which exposed his toes, and for such a force of a man, his feet, like the rest of him, were neat and manicured.
He had excellent hygiene, which I appreciated. It was disheartening when hygiene became something to look forward to because sadly, I remembered a few men that made my skin itch with their dirty bodies.
Khane was a different kind of dirty. He had been dirtied by the dangerous life he led: his past, his tattoos, the inner workings of him merged to create this magnificent force with the ability to tug at my senses. His savage nature lingered below his surface, silently calling to a part of me that had never been explored. He was the kind of dirty that I was secretly attracted to, sinfully filthy.
He drew me in without trying, his wicked sexiness was a drug that perfumed the air and made me high on contact. One touch from him had made me surrender to his call, giving me the kind of thrill I hungered to experience again.
My gaze lingered. The male potency of him had me licking my lips as my lady parts clenched shamelessly. Instinctively, he turned and caught me staring. I approached and stood next to him, ensuring I was close enough to draw his heat.
A buzz sizzled over my skin when I was anywhere near him. It was shameful but hard to ignore that the ache in my sex turned into a vibrating beat of restlessness I no longer tried to control.
“I made lunch if you’re hungry,” he shared but kept his face aimed at the view.
I stabbed a playful finger into his side for a quick nudge. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have been happy to help.” He hadn’t moved away from my touch, the sight eliciting an immediate smile.
“You appeared busy. So busy, you didn’t notice when I peeked in on you,” he stated, finally setting his gaze on mine. His stare alone was enough to set my blood to a low boil. Too quickly, he pulled his gaze away. A long moment stretched between us as we used the view as a distraction.
“Are you ready for marriage?” I asked him out of the blue. The idea of him marrying someone else, even though it was my cousin, didn’t sit well with me.
“No, but if it helps, it’s just another duty as far as I’m concerned. Besides, it’s only a piece of paper,” he replied, nonchalance expressed in his tone, his face impassive.
Unable to hold back, I laughed, making his curious gaze seek mine.
“I think you and my cousin will get along just fine because she thinks the same way. I, on the other hand, wish I could have a real marriage someday.” I shook off the fierce sting to my heart at the reality of my pending situation with Arjen.
“The idea that it’s a duty or task hurts. This arrangement, although I agreed to it, has broken away a piece of my heart. I don’t want to do it.” I nearly choked on the last sentence as the emerging sadness threatened to take my pleasant mood.
A touch of sorrow crinkled the corners of Khane’s eyes on my behalf. He moved his hand closer, reaching out to me, but paused and retracted, forcing himself not to touch me. “I know it won’t ease your hurt, but my brother will treat you well. He may not be able to give you a traditional marriage, but he would never do anything to hurt you.”
I rested my elbows on the stone railing and stared into the waiting view below. The stone gnawed at my bones, the hard pinch a temporary distraction. The idea of life with Arjen seemed like it would never be boring, but it was a life I didn’t want.
“I’m meeting my cousin later. She wants to treat me to an early dinner,” I reminded, changing the subject.
“I know,” he replied. I had told him at breakfast about my dinner plans with Mecca.
“My cousin is one of my favorite people in this world, but I have to be honest with you, I’d rather stay right here with you.”
Dammit, that comment was supposed to stay in my head. However, my smile grew wide at the sight of such a big strong man going still with shock at my statement, a reaction that confirmed that there was something more between us and not my imagination.
The tense set of his body spoke of his resistance to react, but our gazes still managed to meet. The charged silence brimmed with our swirling energies, making me sway and bend to his every move like invisible wires connected us. He was poised to speak, but the light in his gaze dimmed, destroying whatever he had considered.