I maneuver onto my side to face him. “How did you learn to do that?”
“What?”
“Just, I don’t know. Most men?—”
His low growl cuts me off. “When we’re in this bed together, there’s only me. No one else. Besides, I’m not most men, darlin’.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
I smile and seize this opportunity to really, really examine his bare chest, his arms, his everything. My attention hooks and lingers on a round scar that resembles a gunshot wound. I’ve seen similar injuries on the men in my family.
A chill settles into my stomach, but I force the sensation away. I’m probably mistaken, and either way, I won’t ruin the moment by asking.
Not yet.
I switch my focus to his ink. In the past, I never understood the appeal of tattoos. Studying his skin, though, I think I finally get it. I appreciate beauty as much as the next person, and the intricate designs covering his torso and right arm are artful, especially when paired with his gorgeous body. I’m getting stimulated all over again, analyzing this man’s physique like he’s a living, breathing Picasso.
I try to regroup. “I guess I mean…being able to pleasure a woman like that requires some practice.”
“Are you asking me if I majored in cybersecurity but minored in pussy at Columbia? Because I’m pretty sure they never offered that area of study.”
My cackle rivals the volume of my orgasmic shrieks, causing his face to break into a big grin.
“If they did, they’d need to hire you to teach it.” My hand has a mind of its own as it ventures lower.
He slides his left arm under me, and I mold myself around him in a side embrace, hoisting a leg up onto his thigh. The contact feels magnificent on so many levels, our bodies touching from beginning to end like this.
I snuggle. “I’m wondering ifsomeonemay’ve taught you…how to do that?”
He stiffens, and not in a good way.
“Are you asking me about past relationships?”
“I didn’t start out with that intention, but yeah, I think I am.”
“I’ve never been much of a relationship type.”
I suck in a breath. “What about a long-distance relationship type?”
Kellin removes his arm, sits up, and hits me with a hard stare.
My stomach plummets. Well, shit.
I sit up, too, except I climb right on top of him, straddling him. He’s not getting away just yet, and nothing temporarily defuses an awkward situation better than sex. Not to mention, the poor guy hasn’t even gotten off yet.
“I didn’t mean to pry.” I kiss him, and he kisses me back, his hand shooting into my dark, tangled hair as he presses me into him, our tongues probing deeper.
I can feel his hard member against my stomach. With minimal effort and a bit of maneuvering, I could slip him inside me. I rub his shaft with my clit and prepare to do just that.
Kellin shifts out from under me. “I’ve got to hop in the shower.” He rises, naked, like a perfectly chiseled statue.
Except for the fact that he’s rejecting me.
“Sure, I understand. Me too.” My mortification must show all over my face. I may not have much experience in guys declining sex, but thanks to my family, I’ve probably earneda PhD in the subject of rejection, and the pain never gets easier. I may not want to involve myself in the Port Kings’ criminal undertakings, but the truth is, that pain never totally disappears, especially in regards to my brothers.
Kellin must notice, too, because he’s back in bed and on top of me, crushing my mouth beneath his. He kisses me just long enough to heat my blood before rising once again.
“I will make this up to you.” He avoids eye contact while dressing and flees my suite to shower in his own room.
