“How does this work? With you being my protector and all. Do we go in the same car? Do you go with me like a bodyguard and sit with us?”
“We’ll drive separate cars. I’ll hang back to give you as much privacy as I can without losing sight of you. You won’t see me, but you can be assured that I’ll be watching you.”
A sly smile I failed to suppress spread across my face. “I think I like the idea of you watching me.”
Again, my bold words, ones that were supposed to stay inside my head, left his faced pinched in a mixture of worry and concern. I had never been like this with any man, but Khane brought out a brazenness that I usually stamped down for the sake of being the good girl, the gentle Evans, the lovable Desiree. With Khane, I wanted to unleash everything I kept suppressed and throw caution to the wind. I wanted to embrace my desires, and I wanted him to be the one to satisfy them.
It was in the way he looked at me. There was lust, but it was all stuffed behind a look of longing for something with more depth. There was an endearing curiosity there, and I could have been interpreting it wrong, but it almost seemed like he was asking himself, what if?
When our gazes met again, we lived a lifetime in the connection that sped up the flow of everything inside me, my pulse, my blood, the currents of my desire. Never before had I dissected the way I reacted to someone and explored their every action and reaction. The notion was enough to drive home the conclusion that Khane and I were sharing something special, something rare, precious, and hard to come by.
When the swirling force of our chemistry grew too thick, he left my side to sit on the patio sofa, and I turned to the view for relief.
Eventually, I turned away from the view, ignoring the splendor set in front of me to feast on the man that called to me louder than any sound ever to pierce time and space.
Khane was patient with me and out of respect to my unorthodox engagement with his brother, he tiptoed around his attraction for me. The man had shared his kitchen with me, an endeavor I had enjoyed beyond measure. He had painted my nails, a gift as precious as if he had given me a ring. He knew how to put a genuine smile on my face, all without long, drawn out conversations or jokes. He didn’t force our connection, it happened naturally.
He shared my love for gothic art and appreciated the creation of nontraditional artistry and design. He ignited a spark in me that I realized had never been stoked. Where had he been all my man-wandering-without-a-connection life?
It may not be today, may not even be next week, but if Arjen didn’t come back soon, the fire between Khane and me was destined to burn away our control. My problem: I wasn’t so sure I would make an effort to stomp out the flames.
How was I supposed to stop something that was hell to control and rocked me so hard it vibrated my bones?