I shove him away, dipping out of the kitchen and making my way back to the end room. “And you won’t go off on your own again.” He cages me back into the corner, both hands resting on either side of my body. “Okay,” I answer, wanting his hand to release me, but not wanting him to release me. I step around him, only for his hand to come to my arm. Just when I think he’s serious, his lip curls.
I swallow, just as his hand comes to my chin, tipping my face up to him. “We’re not good people, Dovey.” His eyes come to mine, the dark green depths enticing me to test him. King steps into the space that Killian left. Or the only way I want to describe him right now. I feel him before I see him, and as cliché as that may sound to most people, it’s the only way I can describe the attraction I have to Kingston right now. Just when he’s about to say something, I notice another shadow behind him. “If that’s what you want, Little Bird, to have us reassure you that we’re not bad people, then you’re tripping.” The damn kitchen counter is, once again, pressing against my ass. Killian smirks, and for a second, I want to step backward, but I can’t. “That’s your answer? You’re not even going to pretend that you’re not bad guys?” I take a moment to admire his bright blue eyes and tanned skin, and the way his dark hair flops over his forehead slightly. He seems to think over my words, because his eyes search mine. My eyes close as I relish in his untrustworthy words, before shaking him off and spinning around in his grasp. “Chill,” he whispers, sending goosebumps over my flesh.
I freeze at his contact, when his lips touch the side of my shoulder. I snort, turning back around to empty the water out of my glass. He catches me staring because he clears his throat. I notice that the star that King has on his chest, Killian has over his lower left hip. I spin around to catch Killian walking in, sweat pouring down his bare chest. Padding my way into the kitchen, I clamber for a glass of water. I groan again, my hair falling to the front of my face. Picking up the thick, muscled arm, I fling it off me and curl off my bed.
An arm tightens around me, and I freeze, the recollection of last night coming back to me at one hundred miles an hour. I wake up the next morning, my limbs sore, and my head pounding. I have to stick to the fucking plan, even if the plan kills me. I hate her with a fire so hot I want to dip her in gasoline and use it to detonate her. She’s waning on my restraint, teasing it. I don’t want to have anything to do with her any more than what I’m here to do. I’m trying to fucking sleep, but all I can think about is her. My hand rests on my stomach as my other shades my eyes. Best Car Loans in Canada: A Comparison of Rates, Terms, and Financing
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