Sweet Peril
Page 67

Kaidan ran a hand through his hair, appearing frustrated.
Michael spoke up from his spot at the mic. “Yo, Anna. We’re trying to practice here.”
She shot him a no-crap glare and then turned and walked briskly from the room, wiping her eyes and not looking back.
So, this is what it was like being with Kaidan, huh? I did believe that he’d been honest with her, but even if she’d pretended to accept it, she’d obviously been holding out hope in her heart that they’d get together. I felt bad for her—just another victim of our screwed-up circumstances. But still, I was glad she was gone now.
The relief in the room was palpable, even though a few people continued to whisper as the band started the next set. It was hard to get back into the music after that bit of drama. I was glad when practice ended.
He came straight down to me after they’d packed the band equipment. I ignored the few starers around us.
“I didn’t know she’d be here,” Kaidan whispered. Guilt shrouded his face.
“Let’s just go back to your place and not think about it. Please.”
He reached for my hand and held it as we walked through the building. But out in the open we instinctually let go and searched the darkened skies for something much worse than angry exes.
When we got back to his apartment we didn’t talk about it. In fact, we didn’t talk about anything. When the door shut behind us, he took my face in his hands and kissed me as if he wanted to prove there was no one else for him—as if the harder we kissed and grasped, the more we could erase all memories of other people from both our minds. We were more ravenous for each other than ever, sliding against walls and running into furniture on our way to his room.
I had no plans for sleep that night, because that meant I couldn’t be consciously touching him and kissing him and soaking in every second of this time with him.
For hours he kissed me. And I kissed him back.
At nearly three in the morning sleepiness weighted my body as we lay there together so still. I heard his breathing even out as we both hovered in that place between wake and sleep. And then his hand wandered lazily down my back and over my hip until he was cupping the full curve of my behind, part of me that he’d actively avoided touching all night.
Scratch that sleepy thing.
His firm hands clutched me closer and I breathed a heady gust of air at his throat. I’d been careful all night not to be too vocal about how good his touches felt. I knew each noise would act as fuel, making it even harder for him. He rolled to his back, pulling me on top of him with both hands fully on my backside now.
“Kaidan,” I whispered.
Looking half-asleep, he shushed me with a hot kiss, pulling my hips to crush us together. I whimpered into his mouth.
“God, those little sounds,” he said against my lips. “I want to hear how you sound when I make you—”
“Kai!” I practically leaped off him, and he sat up, eyes blazing, licking his lips. I was breathing hard. He had to be as tired as me after our long day, and it was starting to weaken us big-time. Oh, how I’d love to indulge that weakness.
I scooted farther away.
“Maybe we should try to get some sleep,” I suggested, though I was feeling wide-awake now.
He stared at me with roaring passion. “I think a third shower might be necessary,” he said.
A silly laugh wanted to escape me, but there was no humor in his eyes. Only want.
I cleared my throat, spotting our brownie dishes. I gathered everything and rushed from the room, not returning until I heard the water running.
A T-shirt and flannel pajama shorts were not sexy, I told myself as I looked down at my outfit. But when he came out of the bathroom, shirtless with his hair wet, and took in the sight of me sitting on his bed, I felt as if I were wearing something silky and minuscule. I guess the shower hadn’t helped much.
“I should probably sleep on the couch,” I offered.
Please say no.
“No.” His eyes raked me a moment more before he blinked and swallowed. “We only have one night. I want you here with me.” He walked around to the opposite side of the bed. I flicked off the bedside lamp, and dim light from streetlamps spilled through the slats in his blinds. A definite tension permeated the space between us. Moving slowly, we both lifted the covers and slid beneath.
“Come here,” he whispered, reaching out for me. I moved in closer until we shared the same pillow, our bodies as close as they could be without touching. We faced each other, breathing in the same small space of air. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I searched his face, and he searched mine.
“You’re eighteen now,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Yippee.”
He snorted and scraped a hand through his damp hair. “Do you remember when you came to that record store in Atlanta last summer and you said all I had to do was say the word . . . ?”
“And I’d be yours.” I tried not to squirm with excitement. “Yes, I remember.”
“I . . .” He swallowed and I lay my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeats quicken. “I want to . . . cripe, I sound like an idiot. What’ve you done to me?” He cleared his throat and started again, a fiery passion in his darkened eyes. “The thing is, I can’t share you. I need you to be mine. Only mine. When I think of someone else touching you—”
He broke off and made a low sound that sent shivers down my skin.
“Are you saying the word?” I blurted.