I need to touch him.
My hands eagerly slide over his abs and chest. He lets out a sharp breath between kisses at the first contact. I might not be able to see his muscles, but I can sure as shit feel them.
His lips trail away from my mouth and across my jaw. He rests his forehead on mine as we both catch our breath.
I’ve never been kissed like that.Never.I can’t even formulate complete thoughts through the blissed-out fog he just lulled me into.
He opens his mouth to speak, and I think he’s going to say something about going to my bedroom. But he shocks me with, “Do you want to watch a movie?”
I would’ve jerked my head back in surprise if it weren’t already pressed to the wall. A small laugh escapes me as I ask, “A movie?”
He pulls back just enough for me to see his face. Even in the dim light, I catch the way it falls, ever so slightly.
“A movie is fine. I just thought…” My words trail off because I don’t know how to finish.
“I want that, too.” He pauses for a second, swallowing heavy. “I just want to hold you for a while.”
It’s a good thing I have a rib cage to support my vital organs because I’m pretty sure my heart just melted inside my chest. Irun a hand over his face, stroking over his beard. “That’s more than okay.”
He leans down, pressing another kiss to my lips. As he pulls away, he nips at my bottom lip. “You can still be mine when we’re cuddling.”
“Counting on it,” I say, smirking up at him.
His smile is the sweetest victory. It makes my own smile grow even wider.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” I tell him.
“I think you’re exactly what I expected after that chaotic entrance at the bar.”
I huff out a laugh because he isn’t wrong. My parents always said I was a chaos monster growing up, and I might not have outgrown all of that.
I glance down at my scrubs. “I’ll go change.” I point out where the remote is on the coffee table, then dart into my room.
I spend a full three minutes debating what to wear that will be sexy but not look like I’m trying too hard. Eventually, I decide to just be myself. He’s seemed to like the real me so far, so who gives a flying fuck?
With leggings, an old sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks on, I make my way out to the living room. Kane looks sinful, perched on the edge of the couch with his elbows resting against his legs as he scrolls through a streaming app, trying to find a movie.
“Here,” I say, handing him a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. “They’re Mav’s dad’s. He left them here the last time Mav was sick, and he stayed over. I think they’ll fit you.”
“Thanks.” His hand slides across mine, and I have no idea how I’m going to behave during an entire movie.
I expect him to go into the bathroom to change, but he seems to have other plans. I just stand there, dumbstruck, as he strips down to a pair of too-tight briefs.
Scratch that.They arenottoo tight. They are fucking perfection.
I was spot on with his muscles. Every inch of him is toned. His left arm is almost completely covered in a full sleeve of tattoos.
The only thing I can make out from here is the lion sprawled across the upper part of his arm and shoulder.
You know when people ask what the male equivalent of lingerie is? Well, I know the answer.Thigh tattoos. Motherfucking thigh tattoos.
Kane’s right thigh is covered in a series of geometric designs that are woven together in an intricate pattern.
I have restraint but nowhere near this level. I’m not that strong. If someone took all the dirty fantasies rolling around in my brain and shoved them into one man, that man would be standing in front of me right now.
“You okay over there?”
My eyes jerk up from where they were ogling his tattoos.Yes, just his tattoos. I wasn’t looking at his barely concealed dick at all.
