“And you wanted to hate him for it.”
“Very much.”
“But?”
Kieran’s mouth twisted.
“But he did it well. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to hate him as much as I wanted to.”
I squinted at him.
“Kieran Marsh, you’re jealous.”
“Terribly.”
“And you’re admitting it.”
“I’m hoping novelty will distract you from the unbecoming part of it.”
I moved closer again.
“It isn’t working.”
“No?”
“I noticed the unbecoming part immediately.”
“And?”
His voice had changed on the single word.
Lower.
The Pull tightened between us.
My Mark moved under my sleeve, choosing Kieran with a bright, hungry pull threaded through with a pain I could not separate from his.
I should have been afraid of that.
I was.
I also wanted him to touch me.
“And,” I said, “I’m still here anyway.”
Kieran went terribly still.
He was good at moving. Too good. Jokes, hands, glances,turns of phrase, all of him designed to keep a room from seeing anything that could actually hurt him.
Stillness looked dangerous on him.
“Still allowed?” he asked.
The question hit low in my body. I knew exactly where it was going.
“Yes.”
He crossed the space between us like the answer had cut the last thread holding him back.
