I know that sound well, and I have no gloves, no soap, no scissors to cut the cord! Nothing.
My breath caught as his fingers brushed the sides of my breasts and my eyes flew to his as he pulled the T-shirt down excruciatingly slowly, caressing my skin with it. Those dark eyes smoldered.Then somehow, we were standing closer, our bodies almost touching. Excitement tingled between my legs and I felt my nipples peak against the fabric of my bra.
A flush crested Killian’s cheeks and his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.All I could think about was the way my skin prickled to electrified life under his touch. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to push me up against his desk, rip my jeans off, and thrust into me.My breath shuddered at the thought and Killian’s eyes blazed even hotter, as if he’d been able to read my mind.
Sir, Mr. Byrne would like to speak with you! Eve’s voice called through the door and shattered the moment.Killian stumbled back. His hands dropped from my waist, allowing the T-shirt to fall.
I tried to catch my breath as he whirled away from me. Just . . . Just a second, he called back.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. I’m Killian again?Okay, maybe I was less composed than I’d realized, but considering the day’s events it was as calm as I was capable of being. I’d been sitting there for far too long, or so it felt, and my body was buzzing in protest. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nostrils, hoping time would offer its assistance and speed the hell up.
I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Why is this taking so long? It was only a few scrapes.Unable to find any peace, I opened my eyes and watched as Tara examined my face closely before producing a smaller black kit. The overwhelming need to bolt shook my body. Not out of fear; no, I wasn’t scared. Perhaps Kurt had drained all the fear from my system. Instead, I was worried.
The strangest thought came over me. I found myself wracked with anxiety over having a disfiguring scar on my face—a reminder I’d be confronted with every time I passed a mirror or took a simple photograph, just like the one on my leg. It was such a superficial thought in the grand scheme of things, yet it was still there in my mind, front and center.Where were my pain, anger, the need to scream and cry…anything? I felt them for Scout, but for myself, these emotions were replaced simply by a numbing void in my chest. Was that better than suffering through the emotions?