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Wait . . . love?
Kieran curled an arm around my stomach when a shudder ran through me, and I prayed my soft inhale was too low for him to hear.
Because I hadn’t been able to explain my need for him earlier. The way I’d craved him. The way I’d felt like I’d crumble without him.
Now I wondered if I knew.
I wondered if it was possible for someone like me to fall in love. I wondered if I was. Or if I already had.
I never thought I’d love someone. I’d never wanted to.
But the feeling of rightness that swept through me at the thought of loving the assassin holding me both excited and terrified me.
But as terrifying as the thought of loving someone was, it didn’t compare to the terror of what would happen to Kieran for being the man that I’d fallen in love with.
Because there was a man who thought he owned me.
And he didn’t share.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I opened the door to my room after my run the next morning.
I don’t think anything had ever shocked me as much as the sight before me.
I was hard in a fucking instant.
Jessica was sitting on top of my dresser. Back straight. Legs crossed. No makeup. Obsidian eyes focused on the mini blade she was attempting to roll between her knuckles.
Jesus Christ.
The knob was still firm in my grasp, and I was sure if I stood there any longer, I would crush it.
The sound of the door shutting might as well have been a gun going off from the way she jumped, a curse slipping from her mouth as the blade fell into her lap.
“Damn it,” she hissed again as she unfolded her legs carefully.
I was in front of her without realizing I’d even moved. Grabbing the knife and chucking it onto the bed as I inspected the two-inch slash down her thigh.
“You surprised me,” she murmured as she tried to bat my hands away.
I grabbed both of her hands in one of mine and swiped at the thin line of blood beginning to well on her skin to make sure it was only a surface cut. “I know the feeling.”
My eyes darted to her face in time to see her cheeks redden then moved to her hands. A drop of blood had fallen from her finger to my hand, and another small bead was building. Otherwise, she was fine.
I brought her hand to my mouth and sucked on the cut finger, trying to ignore her sharp inhale and the way her toes curled against the edge of the dresser.
I gave the tip of her finger a little bite and turned toward the bathroom to get an alcohol wipe, but stopped when she asked, “What if I had a disease?”
“You would’ve told me,” I said confidently.
Her eyes were hooded and filled with heat when I returned, her cheeks still flushed as she bit her bottom lip to hold back a smile.
When I pushed her legs apart to clean the blood and cut, the shirt she was wearing shifted up higher than it had before, giving me a glimpse of what was underneath.
Nothing.
“Jesus,” I said under my breath and groaned when she spread her legs wider. “What are you doing, Jessica?”
“Saying thank you.” Her tone sounded innocent enough, but her head was tilted with challenge.
