Chapter 10

ten

Nevaeh

It’s a relief to be moving out of my apartment. One, I’d shared it with Kate, whom, after I’d kicked her out on her ass, I’d not only struggled to find another roommate I trusted enough to live with, but I also didn’t feel the same sense of comfort I’d once known in my home. After the attack, the little comfort that remained after my best friend’s betrayal had been stripped away. Two, I couldn’t afford to keep this place on my own. So, good riddance.

“Whatever you don’t want to bring to my place, we’ll store for you. I’ll have movers do that, so just take what you want.”

I nod as I pack my kitchen, sure to pack my candy stash. The last two weeks at Kane’s house has been torture without my sweets. Seriously, I’ve been in withdrawal.

When I open the cabinet and start pulling jar after jar of candy from inside, I feel Kane’s eyes on me, watching me, studying me. I pay him no mind, because jellybeans are therapy, and no one is going to tell me different. It’s as I’m trying to hook the jar of thinly covered chocolate marshmallows in the shape of Santa Claus with the tips of my rubber tongs that I feel a big male presence at my back. Prickles of awareness inch slowly down my spine as the scent of cigar smoke and sin and a deep, untouched winter forest surround me.

I shiver. He murmurs, “Quite the stash, Sunshine.”

“I like sugar,” I admit breathlessly as I make the mistake of dropping from my tiptoes. He’s so close, the motion has the bubble of my butt dragging against his front in a way that is most definitely not friendly.

My heart skitters in my chest, because he doesn’t move back from me even when the chocolate covered Santa marshmallows are within easy-for-me-reach.

“This isn’t sugar. This is a diabetic coma.”

I snort. “It’s therapy.”

“I think they call it substance abuse.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re dramatic.”

“Says every addict in need of an intervention.”

Looking over my shoulder at him, I demand, “Have you ever had a chocolate covered marshmallow?”

“Nope.”

I turn away again, so totally aware on every level that he hasn’t stepped back to put space between us. In fact, both his tattoo covered arms are caging me in on either side of the countertop. Really, the man could crush me if the mood struck him. Our size difference should be alarming, but instead it makes me feel wholly safe.

Twisting the lid from the jar, I dunk my hand inside to retrieve one of the Santa’s. I tear into the wrapper and twist in his arms, my core tightening at the intimate way he leans into me in this position.

“Here.” I hold the unwrapped Santa close to his lips. “Try. It’ll change your life.”

He tears his eyes from mine to glance down at the Santa. Then he rumbles, “No.”

My mouth falls open. Who has the strength to deny a chocolate covered marshmallow? I just—can’t. The man is insane with a will clearly stronger than—well, iron.

Tipping the Santa toward me for inspection, I see that nothing is off-putting. The thin chocolate coating isn’t even broken as it is for so many of the others I open. It’s perfection, and I’m not allowing perfection to go to waste. No. Way.

“Fine,” I huff. “I’m not wasting him.”

Without further ado, I take a nibble from the tip and almost moan. As it is, my eyes flutter closed.

Two weeks is really too long to go without one of my Santa treats.

When my eyes drift open again, I’m about to tell him he’s missing out big time when I see the way he’s looking at me. Specifically, my mouth.

There’s hunger there in his eyes. A dark kind of hunger that has my body responding like prey. There’s a tight coiling within my muscles, a demand I run—because he’s looking at me like he might devour me whole if given the chance. Considering I’m trapped in the cage of his arms, the guy most definitely has the chance.

“Fuck it, I change my mind.”

When he leans in just a bit, I make a noise I don’t recognize as me. “What?”

“Want that taste after all, Sunshine.” And with that, his mouth is crushing mine.

His kiss isn’t soft or hesitant. It’s consuming.

The contact has me tugging a sharp gasp into my lungs that tastes entirely of him. He takes advantage as his hand finds the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair to tug my head back further for him as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. Oh boy…

I’ve been kissed more than a few times in my life by more than a few men, but never like this. Never so wholly, as though he’s kissing me with everything he has inside of him—as though he’s seeking the core of me.

A rumble of something darkly decadent vibrates from the deep of his chest as he moves his lips over mine, exploring me, tasting me, branding me. The hand not in my hair moves around my waist, pulling me roughly into his body, crushing curves against a mountain of solid muscle. I can’t help but respond, lost in whatever this is as I circle my arms around his thick neck.

Kane kisses me until I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen. Or an overdose of arousal. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want this man now. It’s so strong, so massively intense, I feel as though I’m a moment away from combustion. I’m so full of need and yet so achingly empty. My core hurts.

I need—I need—him.

Just when I think I might die of need, he pulls away. Air. It hits me like a wave, nearly knocking me off balance. It would have if he hadn’t been holding me.

And, God, the way he’s looking at me—as though he’d slay the world for me. This man is going to wreck me.

“You’re right.”

I blink at his bizarre statement. “Wh—what?”

“It’s life changing.” He releases me against the counter, his eyes dragging over me. I can only imagine what he’s seeing—a girl painted in desire. My lips feel swollen, kissed raw. My eyes, surely, are dazed with lust. My body? It’s weak with it. His frosted blue eyes land on the treat still in my hand, and a grin twitches the corner of his lips, flipping my heart. He surprises me when his big hand closes around my wrist and he brings my hand and the treat up to his mouth. I watch him take a big bite, his tongue swiping at a sliver of chocolate on his lower lip.

Then he speaks again, “My new favorite treat.”

The way he’s looking at me, I’m not sure if he means me or the chocolate covered marshmallow.

At this point, I’m not sure I could handle clarification to that question.