His muscles tensed under her touch and she reveled in the movement, knowing she had caused it.
His lips pulled away from hers. “Ow!” He pulled his hand from beneath her shirt and she immediately missed his warmth.
Dizzie stared at him.Why had he stopped?
Killian gripped his shoulder, tugging his shirt forward, providing a glimpse of torn fabric. He reached back and his fingers came away slicked with blood. “What the fuck?”
Oh, shit.
She scrambled off his lap, putting space between them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and her stomach churned. She never lost control like that.
“What the hell happened, Dizzie?” Killian sounded confused, but not mad.
Hands clasped behind her back, she trembled while she looked everywhere but at him. “I, uh, I lost control.”
Dammit. She wouldn’t cry.
“I know what losing control is. That was way more than losing control.” His voice was calm. Gentle.
“It was the chair.” She blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
Killian pushed up from the chair. Hand on the backrest, he spun it in a slow circle, then studied his fingers again. “It wasn’t the chair.”
He turned sideways and looked around the room, presenting her with a clear view of his ripped shirt. Four holes edged with blood were clearly visible.
She made a cry of distress. “It wasn’t the chair,” she admitted.
“What happened? I thought you were into it.” He advanced toward her, steady and calm.
“I was. I was totally into it.” Her voice cracked. She took another step back, looked behind her. She was a few steps from the wall.
He took another step. She countered by stepping to the side.
Tension crackled between them.
Killian closed the distance between them with long steps.
Dizzie stepped back until she hit the wall. She wasn’t afraid of him. Not really.
She feared his reaction. The questions he’d ask.
His arms reached for her and she tensed. He rested his hands on her upper arms, then slid them down toward her wrists.
Her body trembled with the urge to run, but she tamped it down. His rejection would come soon enough. Why waste time trying to run?
His grip was gentle as he tugged her arms forward.
She didn’t resist. That would only postpone the inevitable. His hands cleared her wrists and then he was lifting her hands. Turning them over.
Dizzie tensed and tried to pull them back.
He paused, watching her.
She sucked in a deep breath, released it slowly. Nodded.
Palms up, she relaxed her clenched fingers. Her right hand was streaked with blood.
Killian freed her left hand. The only difference between her hands was the blood staining the palm and nails of her right one.
