“You don’t touch people.”
True, he’d touched me a couple of times, was touching me right now, but briefly and mainly for inspection of injuries. He’d hugged Molly when we arrived but it had been stiff, the handshake with Rick quick and grudging. Since then, he’d maintained a safe distance from everyone, tensing anytime someone accidentally brushed against him. Like yesterday, with me, planting that tree. He shied away from Molly, even, anytime she got too close.
He gave a noncommittal shrug, not confirming nor denying my claim, his cool fingers a nice balm to my hot and scraped skin. I shivered at that contact, feeling those light touches grip something deep inside me, my heart speeding up.
I cleared my throat. “Why is that, do you wonder?”
“I just don’t like physical contact,” he mumbled.
I glanced down at our hands, which had become clasped together, his no longer intent on soothing my injuries. Fingers loosely intertwined, they hung together in the space between our chairs, and I didn’t find myself objecting or pulling away. He glanced down, too, as if aware that he was making himself out to be a liar.
He shrugged again. “You’re different,” he said.
And that’s all that he would say.
******
It turned out that, when confronted by a fish I’d helped gut and behead, my appetite did a nosedive. All grilled and golden brown, nice little lemon slices bordering it, the fish gave off a heavenly aroma. But I still saw those beady black eyes staring up at me with accusation plain in its dead gaze.
“Oh, God, I’m gonna be sick,” I blurted, feeling my stomach heave, my esophagus burning as bile scorched a trail up my throat.
I was up and out of my chair in about two seconds flat.
Kieran was more respectful than I was but I noticed he declined dinner, too, blasting out of his comfort zone and pecking a kiss to Molly’s forehead to soften the blow.
My stomach gave another painful lurch as I cradled the toilet, my head hanging inside the bowl. Sanitary, no, but I had watery saliva gushing from my mouth and each heave of my stomach emptied its contents, until I was sure there was nothing left. Then even more emptied out. My eyes watered involuntarily, my nose red and runny, and still I heaved.
If I never saw another fish again it’d be too soon.
When my stomach finished its acrobatics, I leveraged myself up, hands braced against the sink. Now that the queasiness of the fish fiasco was over, I was now sick from puking. You know that feeling, stomach hollow and empty, throat raw and strained, every breath hurting like hell. I managed to stand upright long enough to scrub the ickiness from my teeth and tongue, gagging on every upstroke of the bristles on my taste buds.
I stumbled back downstairs, collapsing onto the couch, curling into a tight ball and cradling my aching tummy. My eyelids weighted down, shuttering closed, but I fought the seductive allure of sleep. If only I could open my eyes again.
The couch shifted beside me, a cool hand brushing against my cheek, fingers combing gently through my hair. I mumbled something unintelligible, moving into that touch, and found my head cradled in a lap, those same soothing fingers continuing with those slow, easy caresses. It was lulling me to sleep, my breathing evening out, consciousness receding. I felt safe, protected.
And still those fingers combed. Still they feathered against my cheek. Still they soothed and comforted and sated.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
Time was a little skewed when next my lids pried open, eyes feeling gritty and hot. The room was dark, the only light provided by the television, The Town playing onscreen. I watched Ben Affleck and Blake Lively going at it on a chair, feeling a warm palm on my neck, fingers tangled in my hair. I did a quick assessment of my stomach and got a twinge in response but I no longer felt like I was on the verge of tossing my cookies all over the place.
Groaning, I rolled over onto my back, my ear smashing up against a hard abdomen.
Uh-oh.
I winced, my gaze slowly rising to meet Kieran’s. The shadows encroached on us, creating a very close and intimate atmosphere, playing across the harshly sensual planes of his face. My breath caught at the smolder that had returned to those aquamarine depths but it was tempered by a way too touching concern.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Mutely, I bobbed my head yes.
“How’s your stomach?” he pressed.
My mouth gaped. “It’s all right.”
Grinning, his fingers untangled from my hair, his thumb brushing a soft caress against my cheek. For the first time, his eyes were so warm, completely thawed, a tenderness mingling with the smoldering embers. I was caught by those eyes, ensnared, but I found it within myself to sit up, putting a few feet of distance between us. I couldn’t deal with the answering emotions brewing in me, ones that complemented the things represented there.
My cock gave an insistent twitch in my pants but contrary to popular belief I wasn’t completely ruled by my little head. Which wasn’t all that little, by the way.
“Ethan,” he whispered.
I shivered, his voice speaking my name so reverently, as if he was savoring it, making chills attack my body. Swallowing, I raised my gaze to meet his again, seeing his grin had slipped away, but the smolder was still there, stoking into a hotter and brighter conflagration. The flames were consuming me and I didn’t think I could escape them this time. Wasn’t even sure I wanted to by this point.
After all the teasing, all those tantalizing close calls, I was fucking primed. Moving almost unconsciously, I leaned forward on my hands, crawling, inching back to his side. His gaze tracked me, and I suddenly felt like the gazelle cornered by the cheetah, but it was an exciting feeling. He caught me in his arms as I tumbled forward, his eyes dipping down to my lips.
“Are you sure?” he murmured.
“No.” Yes. “I-I don’t know.”
At first, I thought he was going to back down at my indecisiveness, but suddenly his palm was cradling my cheek, his head lowering until our mouths were only separated by a breath. Taking the plunge, I closed that infinitesimal gap, molding my lips to his.
Instant fireworks.
My skin tingling, limbs trembling, I sat up on my knees straddling his lap, my arms winding around his neck, fingers tunneling into the silky smoothness of his hair. All without separating our lips. A moan of unadulterated desire rumbled up my throat, a guttural groan that was reciprocated in kind from Kieran. His mouth opened, tongue darting out to tease at the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart until my own tongue could meet his.
His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer and closer, my erection pressing insistently against his torso. The friction ratcheted up my desire, my frenzy, and I deepened the kiss, my tongue plunging deep, stroking his with wild abandon. His grip shifted, one hand rising to curve around my neck, holding my head still as his mouth ravaged my own.
God, I’d never before felt this level of urgency, this out of control. I didn’t even believe I was breathing anymore, Kieran’s kisses supplying all the oxygen I needed, every nerve ending, every fucking cell in my body ignited with a fierce, primal desire. Kieran groaned again, the sound so lost and helpless, exactly how I felt right now. I was on the same page with him and when had I ever been able to say that? Never had I been on the same page with a girl before, never had I even been in the same fucking book. Shit, I’d never even been in the same goddamn library, that’s how detached I always was before.