“Why did you kiss me like that earlier?” he asks immediately.
I’m briefly disoriented by the sudden question. “Wasn’t… it obvious?”
He knows it’s not really an answer. His gaze is prying me open. He steps closer slowly, then reaches up. His fingertipstrokes over my fresh tattoo, and I wince from the sting of it. Unexpected pleasure follows the hurt, though, and I shiver.
“You didn’t answer me before, so I’ll ask again.” He wraps his hand gently around my throat, covering up my tattoo. “Are you okay?”
Anxiety pulses through me alongside my already-raised heart rate. I can’t tell him everything. I’m too confused. Too overwhelmed to sort out which steps are safe and which are pitfalls. But I can tell him part of the truth.
“There’s so much in my head. It’s…loud. I want to scream, but when I open my mouth, no sound will come out. I’m stuck. Something is stuck.”
Killian’s gaze changes. He tilts his head down, drenching his eyes in shadow, a storm cloud gathering above the ocean blue. His hand remains on my throat as he steps closer. He’s suddenly entirely in my space.
“I know what you need,” he says. His voice has sunk lower. His fingers rub once, twice over my tattoo, and I wince, but a thousand aching thoughts flood my mind.
“Tell me,” I say. The words come out in a rush of air.
“Sit,” he orders.
I back away from him slowly, never taking my eyes from his. The backs of my knees meet the edge of my bed, and I sit. He steps closer. His belt buckle clings. I watch, flushed, as he slips his belt slowly from his hips. When it’s free, he wraps it around one of his fists.
“Against the headboard.”
I ease backward onto the bed until my back knocks against the headboard. He follows me, moving to rest one knee on the bed and leaning over me. I don’t move as he reaches for me. I let him take one of my hands and lift it above my head, then the other. He moves slowly, maybe waiting for me to protest.
But I won’t. I want this. I want to let everything go.
The leather of the belt slides over my skin. My nipples harden beneath my clothes, and goosebumps shiver over me as he fastens it. Tight. Tighter. So tight that my engagement bracelet digs painfully into my skin, and I grunt.
“Scared, kitten?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Good.” He backs away, and I let out a whine of protest. But he doesn’t leave me entirely. He smiles knowingly as he starts to unlace my boots. Everything he does, he does slowly. “You’re being quiet.”
I realize that he’s right. I haven’t managed a single word since this started. And maybe I want it that way. Maybe I want him to coax and coerce.
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” he adds. And he’s suddenly above me, warm and heavy. And his mouth is on mine. I sigh and strain against the belt, wishing I could sink my fingers into his soft hair.
Wishing I could pull him closer and pursue that brutal connection between us again.
But Killian is the one in charge right now. “I have this image. In my head,” he starts to tell me. His voice is like silk. He speaks close to me so that I can feel every word on my skin as he unbuttons my shirt. “You and I are both in it.”
He pushes my shirt open, and my skin prickles from the cold and the sudden sensation of being vulnerably bare. Only for a moment, though, before his warm hands are streaking fire over my ribs. He cups my breasts and squeezes, pressing his thumbs over my nipples. I jolt.
My legs spread instinctively. His eyes are icy fire.
“In this image, I’m sitting on the throne, halfway to making a better world. And you are there with me, perched on my lap.”
He pulls my pants down my body, tossing them aside. Then his fingers play at the edges of my underthings, which are already soaked in anticipation.
“There’s a crown sparkling in your hair,” he tells me, and I nod. “Your pretty silver hair…”
His fingers press into me through the damp fabric, and an unintentional moan escapes me. I quickly stifle it, but his eyes flick to mine and his breath quickens.
“Things change in my imagination. Sometimes you’re on your own throne. Sometimes your hair is long, spilling everywhere. Sometimes it’s up, exposing this pretty neck of yours.” His fingers dance over my tattoo, and I strain against the belt to chase his touch. “But one thing is the same. Every time.”
What?I want to scream. My hips push up against his hand.
