A deep breath and release eased my tension after she let go of my arm and headed towards the bathroom. She had succeeded in cracking my mind open, rearranging my thoughts and ideas while touching my emotions. I couldn’t allow her to take my body too. My eyes fell closed, as I unsuccessfully sought thoughts that weren’t about Desiree.
“Khane,” she called, glancing back over her shoulder. “I want the rest of the story of how you got hurt.”
I couldn’t reply, not while her lush ass in those jeans was calling my gaze and draining my mental focus. I slammed my eyes shut before I gripped my forehead and squeezed. She had no idea that she was the woman of my dreams in the flesh.
Off limits, I reminded myself. Off fucking limits. The attempts I was making to stamp down my demanding attraction to Desiree were proving to be one of the most difficult tasks of my life.
“Six more days,” I mumbled under my breath. Six more torturous days and I would be able to return her to Arjen and do everything in my power to avoid her afterward. The light thump of her steps signaled her return.
My view started at her feet. Her pretty, little, red-painted toes that I would suck the polish off of if she weren’t so off-limits. My demanding gaze continued to inch up the legs that I had dreamed would one day be wrapped around my waist. Shapely hips and thighs, the kind of seductive curves that some women were inclined to pay for. Slim waist, full ample breasts, and a baby doll face to top it all off.
She was who had filled every one of my fantasies for the past six years. My obsession with her had been one of my most well-kept secrets. If there was something she liked, I found myself liking it also, living vicariously through her because I’d been trained to only like one thing.
There was nothing about Desiree that didn’t elicit a response from me. I even liked that she had a penchant for flirting with danger, especially where I was concerned. She possessed a savage nature gift-wrapped by beauty and a calming spirit.
She sat, placing the open kit on her lap as she turned to my arm. Her touch, although expected this time, sent a shiver jetting through me.
“Sorry if my hands are cold,” she offered, but a quick glance revealed that she wasn’t sorry at all. The heat in her gaze, the smirk on her face that she attempted to, but failed to hide, wasn’t missed. She knew what she was doing.
My posture remained rigid as she worked on cleaning the scratch that had barely broken the skin. Although I was overrunning with anxiety over our closeness, I relished every second of attention Desiree was bestowing on me. It was a gift I had never received, a caring caress that I had never before sought because I didn’t think I deserved it.
Her eyes were on me. I sensed them scanning my every reaction, but I fought the tightening pull by hiding my view behind my closed eyes. My strength would lead me through these next six days, it had to.
Once she had my cut cleaned and bandaged, she wrapped her hands around my bicep and squeezed, calling my attention to her as more of my strength slipped. Her right knee was pressed into my rigid thigh muscle, adding to the hold she had on my attention.
“How does that feel?” she asked, leaning closer to make eye contact, her chest brushing my arm. Like a fucking dream. Her seeking gaze pressed against my hot need, demanding a response.
“It’s good. Feels good.” The words rushed out on a quick breath. The feel of her tight nipples pressed against my arm had my dick stirring.
She kept touching me like I was an object she was fascinated with. Was I imagining her interest in me? Was I wishing and willing it to be true when it wasn’t? Her smile started in her eyes, perched on her lips, and bloomed over her body. The sight caused me to lift a brow, noticing that there was genuine interest in her expression. When her warm lips connected with my flesh above where she had put the bandage, I jumped.
“Desiree!” I growled harshly. Her lips on me were nothing short of intoxicating, feeding the desire I had fought so hard to stomp down. My dick had never gotten so hard so fast. My hormones had never been so energized. I had never wanted any other woman the way I wanted Desiree and was certain I never would.
She would run screaming from my house if she knew my secret concerning her.
In an attempt to shut her out, I pinched my eyes shut again, fully aware that she had her sights set on me. Her warm, soft hand remained in place, wrapped around my arm. I could have told her to let go or to back off. I could have done a million things, but I was more alive under her touch than I had ever been.
“Khane,” she called softly.
Taking care to move only my eyes, I aimed them in her direction.
“I’m waiting,” she informed. A few minutes ago, I was certain I could resist her, but she was wearing me down by the minute.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me about the men who were spying on Mecca and me.”
Thankfully, she was waiting for a story and not for me to kiss her. Every cell in my body demanded that we kiss until our lips went numb, and that I shoved myself so deep inside her it would take a week to separate us.
After a deep sigh, I revealed everything in graphic detail, down to how my knife had slid into flesh until it chipped bone. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t the nice guy that she assumed I was, the one that I had created for her.
Her brows pinched at my vivid detailing of the act, but she listened intently and digested the news. Her face sat pinched in disgust at the bloody brutality I revealed about the BMW passenger, but in all my bloody detailing, I noticed that she had never released my arm.
“Khane,” she called softly. She was about to tell me how crazy I was before she attempted to psychology me back into some form of normality. Truth was, I had accepted and made peace with my ways. I felt sorry for people who lived their lives with limitations because they ended up committing suicide from imprisoning themselves. I, at least, practiced what I was taught, improved on the skills I had learned, and applied them to my everyday life.
My eyes lifted to meet hers. Her stiff posture and clenched hands revealed that she was afraid of my truths, but there was something else in her gaze that I didn’t recognize.
“I can’t lie to you. Your story scares me. The knowledge that someone could be after me has my nerves on edge. But, you were honest with me, and I appreciate that. Will you promise to always be honest with me? Even if it’s something you know I may not want to hear?”
I nodded. “Promise.” A smile surfaced on her lips before her head fell against the top of my shoulder, above the area she had bandaged. She squeezed her soft, warm body into my side, her action telling of how comfortable she was with me, despite the truths I had revealed.