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I grudgingly took another mouthful and a drop of soup spilled over my lower lip. With the pad of his finger, he gently wiped it away. My eyes widened at the intimacy of the touch and my stomach flipped.
I looked down and curled my fingers into the edge of the sheet held tight to my chest. His hand cupped my chin and he tilted my head up. Neither of us said anything, but in the depths of his dark eyes, a spark of desire flashed.
Then it was gone and he released me.
I grudgingly opened my mouth as he fed me another spoonful of soup. I swallowed, but when he held out another one, I pushed his hand away, spilling some of it onto the sheet. “No more. I hate chicken soup.”
Kilter dropped the spoon in the bowl with a clank. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you say anything? Fuck, Rayne, I could have made you something else.”
“You made it?”
He stood, the muscles in his back tense. “You eat potato leek? Tomato? Mushroom? What?”
I reached out, my hand settling on his wrist. “I’m good.” When he frowned, I added, “For now, but thank you for the soup. It was really thoughtful, and if I liked chicken soup, I’m sure it would be good.”
He shrugged. “It’s chicken soup, no big deal, and I like to cook. You refused to wake up, so I had to do something.”
I smiled. He obviously had trouble giving compliments and accepting them. “Kilter?” His eyes landed on me. “Just say thanks.”
He didn’t. Instead, he set the bowl down on the nightstand, his eyes on me and they were smoldering. I wore nothing but panties and my bra underneath the sheet, but I felt hot. Really hot. His eyes on me like that caused a sweet ache between my legs, and I licked my lips because suddenly they were really dry and I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Kilter.”
“Christ.” His knee landed on the mattress as he bent and grabbed me around the back of the neck and pulled me toward him. The sheet slipped from my grasp as his lips took mine.
He groaned against my mouth, the vibration shooting sparks through every inch of my body. His tongue swept inside as he deepened the kiss, bringing me closer to him so my aching breasts pressed up against this chest.
“Fuck, Rayne,” he murmured.
I moaned, lifting my arms to wrap around his neck and draw him closer.
He straddled me as he slowly lowered me back until my head rested on the pillow again. Then he trailed kisses over my chin to my ear and nibbled the lobe.
The sheet pooled at my waist, leaving my abdomen and chest naked except for my black lace bra. I held my breath as his rough hand caressed over my ribs then up toward the underside of my breast where his thumb stoked back and forth.
I arched. Wanting him to touch my breasts. God, I wanted his hands to touch me everywhere.
I never knew it could be like this. I’d always hated anyone touching me, because I feared my ability, but mostly because any touching was for Anton’s experiments. But this…this was nothing like that.
“Beautiful.” His voice was ragged and sexy as he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. “So, fuckin’ beautiful.” His hand slid back down my ribs to my abdomen and settled on my hip and squeezed. “Better. I like meat on you, babe. I like it a lot.” He lifted his head to look at me, eyes smoldering. “Something for me to grab.”
My heart leapt. I liked that he liked me with weight on. “Yeah?” I said.
He moved so his palms were flat on the bed on either side of me, and he held his weight above me.
I reached up to cup his cheek. The scowl was gone and there was gentleness in his expression. It was breathtaking. God, he was breathtaking with that hint of a smile playing at his mouth and the lightness in him.
“Going to kiss you again.”
Oh. “Okay.”
“Open your legs.”
I hesitated and he shifted to the side, his hand reaching between us and moving my right leg over. Then he settled between my legs. He quirked a grin and his elbows bent and he lowered.
His hard cock pressed into my thigh and I reached around him, palm on his back while my other slid down his bicep. “Kiss me, Kilter.”
He groaned before his mouth slammed into mine. It was raw and fierce, as if he was afraid this was the last time. It was us discovering one another. It was us finding what we’d missed for months. And it was us becoming something together.
