Then his hand left her and April made a sound of protest.
Killian's hand reached past her toward the dresser.
He brought the scarf between them without thinking.
He held it up.
Met her eyes.
"Do you want the scarf?"
She stared at it.
Then at him.
Something in her snapped.
She yanked the scarf out of his hand, lifted it back up between them. “Doyouwant the scarf?”
Killian froze.
His face emptied like someone had cut the power. Mouth opening on instinct, then stopping when nothing came out. His breath hitched, sharp and audible.
April watched him process. Recalibrate. Realize what she was actually asking.
His throat worked.
"I—" His voice cracked. "I've never—"
He stopped. His eyes locked on the scarf in her hands. Then on her face. Then back to the scarf. The realization of what she was offering doing something to him he hadn't anticipated. His chest rose and fell faster now. She could feel him against her hip—harder than he'd been a moment ago.
“Yes,” he said finally, voice unsteady “Yes. I want it.”
Her pulse kicked up. Heat bloomed low and heavy in her belly. She held his gaze.
"Get on the bed."
Killian moved.
He backed toward the bed, eyes never leaving hers, and climbed onto it.
Kneeling. Waiting.
April stood there for a second, still in her bra and underwear, scarf in hand, looking at a man who ran a Fortune 500 company and was currently kneeling on his own bed waiting for her to tell him what to do next.
Okay. This is happening.
You've never done this before but you also never orchestrated eight pranks in one day or wore a family heirloom as a fake engagement ring or had sex with a movie star in a library, so clearly today is the day we grab bulls by horns and figure it out as we go.
She reached behind her back. The bra slipped down. Cool air kissed her nipples into peaks.
Killian's eyes dropped to her breasts. His jaw clenched, hard enough that she could see it from across the bed.
She hooked her thumbs in her underwear, slid them down, stepped out of them. A heartbeat in her throat. A pulse between her legs. A silk scarf in her hand. A man in front of her, hard, trying not to move without permission.
"Finish undressing.”
Killian didn't need to be told twice. Belt. Pants. Boxer briefs. Gone in seconds.
