For several minutes, neither one of us moves. We don’t speak, cocooned in the safety of silence, unwilling to be the first to shatter it.
A chill snakes up my arms, making me shiver, and he smirks, finally pulling out of me. I wince at the sudden loss, trying not to pay much attention to the chasm his absence leaves inside me, wondering how similar this will be to the last time we had sex.
“Are you okay?” he asks, setting me on my feet and taking a step back. His gaze sweeps over me, doctor mode in full effect as he assesses my body for signs of distress. A finger brushes the scar on my thigh, and he frowns, a dark look clouding his features. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I blink, glancing down at where he touches me, wiping some of the smeared blood from my skin. “I liked it.”
One brow arches, and he swallows. “Yeah?”
It’s a single syllable, spoken on the tail end of an exhale, loaded with insecurity. I can feel it, the uncertainty, and it catches me off guard for a moment to think a man as deadly and powerful as Kal might ever feel vulnerable.
Nodding, I cover his hand with my own, bringing it up to where I can feel him leaking from between my thighs. “I like anything you do to me,” I whisper, trying to level the playing field with my admission, even though it’s physically painful for me to indulge.
Still, if Kal Anderson asked me to tear my bleeding heart out of my chest and serve it to him on a silver platter, I’d do it, no questions asked. I’d probably ask him to oversee the operation, to make sure I was doing it correctly.
I just don’t think he returns the sentiment.
0 comments:
Post a Comment
Hateful and Unrelated Comments Will Be Deleted. Anonymous comments are invalid to enter into giveaways.