“Killian,” I whisper. “Please.”
He kisses me.
It’s nothing like the kisses I imagined as a girl reading forbidden romances under my blankets. There’s no urgency. No claiming.
It’s slow.
His mouth moves against mine with careful patience, warm and deliberate. My knees weaken immediately, and I grip his forearms to steady myself, feeling the muscles shift beneath my fingers.
The forearms I’ve spent a week pretending not to stare at.
He pulls back slightly, studying my face.
“Okay?” he asks softly.
I nod.
He kisses me again, deeper this time. His tongue brushes my lips and I open for him without thinking, without analysing, without performing. The taste of him floods my senses and something inside me unravels completely.
I don’t want composure anymore.
His hands slide into my hair, cradling the back of my head as the kiss deepens. I press closer instinctively, wanting more contact, more warmth, more of him.
Even the thin fabric of my pajamas suddenly feels like too much distance.
He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine, his breathing no longer steady.
“Katya,” he murmurs. “Keep talking to me. Tell me what feels good. Tell me what doesn’t.”
“Okay.”
“What do you want?”
The question settles between us.
No one has ever asked me that before.
But this time I know the answer.
“I want you to touch me,” I say quietly. “I want to feel your hands on me. I want to stop being afraid of how good this feels.”
He kisses my forehead, then my temple, then the hinge of my jaw beneath my ear. The scrape of his stubble sends a shiver down my spine.
His fingers find the hem of my pajama top, brushing the bare skin of my waist, and my entire body reacts instantly. He lifts the fabric slowly, giving me time to stop him.
I don’t.
I raise my arms and the shirt disappears over my head. Cool air touches my skin, followed immediately by the weight of his gaze.
Killian looks at me like I’m something extraordinary.
“Jesus Christ, Katya,” he breathes.
His hands settle on my waist, warm and steady. His thumbs trace the curve of my ribs, his fingers spanning my sides.
I close the distance between us.
The contact is electric.
