His eyes flick to mine. Heat. Concern. Something deeper he keeps locked up tight. He dabs at the cut with antiseptic. I hiss. He murmurs something low and soothing I can’t fully hear. His thumb rests lightly against my jaw, holding me steady. His closeness is overwhelming. He smells like smoke and soap and the kind of trouble I want to run headfirst into.
When he reaches up to brush a loose curl from my face, his fingers linger.
“You shouldn’t be climbing shelves alone,” he says, voice gruff.
“You shouldn’t be sneaking around in the dark,” I shoot back.
“I was making sure the doors were locked.” He tapes the bandage gently into place. “Good thing I did.”
I look up at him. Bad idea.
His eyes are fierce and soft at the same time, locked on me like he’s seeing too much. Like he’s memorizing something he shouldn’t.
“Blade,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
“No,” he says quietly. “You got hurt. And I wasn’t here.”
My breath catches. “You can’t watch me every second,” I say.
His gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second that changes everything. “The hell I can’t,” he murmurs.
I swallow. Something is going to break soon. Crack open. Ignite. And when that happens? Nothing between us is staying the same.
Blade’s thumb brushes along my jaw and his gaze locks onto my mouth like he’s choosing violence against self-control. He leans in slow at first, like he’s giving me one final second to back out. As if I ever would. His hand slides to the back of my neck and he pulls me in, eliminating the last inch between us. His mouth crashes against mine, rough and hungry, a growl rumbling low in his chest like he’s finally letting himself touch what he’s been denying.
I gasp into the kiss and his grip tightens, hauling me closer by the hips until my thighs press against him and the whole workbench shifts under us. His fingers dig in like he’s staking a claim he has no intention of surrendering. He kisses me like he owns every breath I take.
When he finally breaks away, it’s only far enough that I can feel his lips move against mine.
“You scared the fuck out of me,” he rasps.
“I dropped a box,” I whisper, dazed.
“You got hurt,” he fires back, eyes blazing. “On my watch.”
His hand slides up my spine, dragging me forward again like he needs me even closer. “I don’t like seeing anyone lay a hand on you,” he growls, voice low. “Even a fucking box.”
Heat floods my cheeks. My pulse kicks. “That’s… very protective of you,” I breathe.
“That’s me being barely in control,” he corrects, tightening his hold. “And I’m real close to losing every reason I had to keep my distance.” He brushes my bottom lip with his thumb. Possessive. Certain. Like he’s already made up his mind. “You’re mine to look after,” Blade whispers, chest pressed hard against mine.
I feel it. The shift. The line we just crossed and can never uncross.
He leans in again, voice rough and promising trouble. “And I’m not done kissing you.” Blade grips my hips and drags me right into him, my knees instinctively parting so he fits closer. His mouth crashes into mine like he’s done pretending he doesn’t want this. His teeth catch my bottom lip, a sharp little nip that shoots fire straight down my spine.
I gasp and he uses it, deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against mine in a way that steals the air right out of my lungs. His hand threads into my hair, tugging just enough to force my head back, opening me up for him like he’s been dying for the taste.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth, like he’s been starving and I’m the first real thing he’s had in years.
My fingers fist into the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer. I don’t care that we’re in the middle of the shop. I don’t care that the door isn’t locked. All I care about is how his body feelspressed against mine and how his kiss feels like a promise he has every intention of keeping.
He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. His thumb strokes across my cheek, a contrast to the possessive way he’s holding me, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this.
Then he breaks away just long enough to look at me. Really look.
His eyes are dark with want, jaw clenched like he’s barely holding himself together. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, voice wrecked and reverent.
I slide my hand up the back of his neck, pulling him back down to me. “Show me.”
