Instead, I inhaled like a sickly Victorian child getting fresh air for the first time, the opportunity to fill my lungs with his scent too good to pass up. I had no idea what this man was made of, but whatever it was soothed my frayed edges like nothing else.
“Why don’t you smell like smoke anymore?” I asked, the words ejaculated like some kind of unexpected orgasm.
Completely embarrassing.
“I quit.” His voice rumbled over my head.
“Why?”
“Someone told me smoking is bad for me.”
It was me.I said that.
I congratulated myself on keeping those words on the inside.
He leaned closer, the atmosphere around us tightening until it was impossible to breathe. Until the only thing left in existence was the barely-there whisper of his lips against the hair tickling my ear. “Curious to know what I taste like now? I bet I’ll still be the best kiss you ever had.”
His husky, rich tone ignited a ripple of tingles along my scalp, the feeling so euphoric my eyes momentarily slipped closed. I had no idea how he did it. How the mere sound of his voice could feel like a whole-body caress. Why everything inside me turned to putty the moment he whispered.
My back slid up the door when I pushed onto my toes, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings fighting against the wind.
His warm, calloused palm draped around my throat, a five-finger necklace more valuable than any gemstone. I swallowed for the sole purpose of feeling my Adam’s apple bob beneath the pressure of his hand and nearly moaned when the necklace turned into a choker.
Lifting hazy eyes, I tumbled into the galaxy he stared back with, free-falling into a place that only existed when he was near, a place that felt like home but never would be.
“Tell me what hurts, Pip,” he cajoled quietly, his voice sweeter than any bribe.
“Hm?” I hummed.
“Tell me what hurts so I can fix it.”
Something inside me caved. Collapsed right there in my chest, decimating everything I had left and turning me into ascrapyard of parts and pieces that might never fit back together again. Yet… it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the ownership of his grip, the radiating warmth from his body, and the frustrating space separating our lips. My light whimper reached into the tension between us, and a flicker of unrestrained hunger glinted as he lowered his head.
The rough clearing of a throat jump-scared me back into reality, my head smacking into the solid wood door with a thud.
Hiro shifted back but reached for my head, and panic slammed into me so hard a wave of nausea nearly took me out. Flinching, I avoided the touch as I yanked open the door and squeezed myself through a narrow margin.
“Rett!” someone called. Maybe Hiro but maybe Kieran. Their bellows were oddly similar.
I sprinted down the hall, unzipped coat fluttering behind me.
“Let him go,” Haz hollered over the sound of a door crashing against a wall.
“You’re fixing that!” Definitely Kieran.
“Goddammit.” The low swear was followed by pounding feet. “Get back here.”
At the elevator, I pressed the button fifteen times and glanced over my shoulder at Hiro as he charged down the hall in literally nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and a bandage.
The visual made me consider going back, but then I remembered what was at stake. Frustrated, I turned from theelevator to find the stairs, but the loudding!had me throwing myself between the parting doors and pressing the close button like a man on fire.
“Rett,” he growled, and my god, why did he have to say my namesogood? His hand shot out just as the doors were pushing closed, and I gasped because I was sure he was about to lose some fingers.
“Watch out!”
“Motherfuckinfu—” the doors slammed closed, cutting off the litany of curses.
