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King shuffles in his seat, spreading his knees wide. His eyes, again, remain cool, but his mouth twitches on the corner.
I look down to his lap, and then look back up to his face. I don’t trust him or the game he’s playing, but I find my feet moving anyway. And it’s not because of some creepy mind game they all like to do; it’s because underneath the cement of trust issues I have, especially when it comes to The Brothers, I want to know what he wants. And maybe that makes me dumb as fuck.
I’m standing directly in front of him when he tilts his head and stares back up at me. Killian is blasting “Deuces” from Chris Brown, which I’m thankful for because it drowns out the bad decisions I’m thinking about making.
His fingers come to mine, and he yanks me down until I’m on his lap.
I turn in his grip until his face is directly in front of mine. “What are you doing?”
“Does it matter?”
“Ah. Yes?”
His lips come to mine. His tongue dips into my mouth and fills the pit of my belly with lava, using my organs as a mixer. Deadly, but warm. Slowly, I open wider for him, running the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip. Well, Killian did ask to see if he would kiss me…
A chuckle breaks out behind me, and I go to pull away, knowing that we’ve been caught. Only King’s hand flies to the back of my neck to hold me there. He deepens the kiss, so I wrap my arms around his neck.
Kyrin is sitting at the table, texting on his phone, like what just happened didn’t surprise him. I’m guessing not much does.
“King!” Keaton calls out from the top of the stairs behind me.
Kingston takes his eyes away from me as they go up to where Keaton is. He taps my leg, and I swing off him, brushing my hair out of my face. I try to ignore how the blood rushing around my insides is making my ears throb, but it’s a little hard when his kisses are like heroin, taking hold of my control and smashing it to itty bitty pieces. King says nothing as he disappears upstairs, taking my pride with him.
I can’t believe I kissed him. I can’t blame it on the hype of the environment either. I was stone-cold sober and normal.
“Don’t get too excited,” Kyrin says. His tone is bored, his eyes never moving up from his phone. It’s probably the most Kyrin has ever said to me.
“I’m not.”
Finally, he lifts his eyes to mine. Kyrin’s features are as sharp as a samurai sword. He’s almost too pretty to be human. His eyelashes are so black and thick that it looks like he’s always wearing eyeliner and mascara. But he’s scary. “King never does anything without a reason, much less a girl. Like you. And no offense,” his eyes go up and down my body, making me squirm in self-consciousness, “but you’re not his usual type.”
“Correction,” Killian calls out from the front. “He doesn’t have a type.”
I shuffle away from Kyrin. He goes back to doing whatever it was that he was doing, and I make my way to the front of the RV, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Don’t take anything that Ky says personally. He doesn’t have good people skills.”
“I figured that out. Are you the outcast Brother?” I joke, putting my feet onto the dash and embracing the afternoon sun that’s warming my skin.
Killian laughs. “I’ve been told that many times.”
“So, what’s the deal with the whole Brothers of Kiznitch thing?” I finally ask the question that’s been poking around in my brain since finding out.
Killian doesn’t answer, and for a second, I don’t think he’s going to, until he simply says, “It’s a long story.”
I let the silence settle around us. I like silence. I need to be able to sit in silence with people, and if I can’t, then I can’t be around those people. Silence is the most underrated sound. “What Kyrin meant to say was that King doesn’t do the whole exclusivity thing. If you’re with him, you have to know that he’s never fully yours.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “We kissed.” I play it off as if it’s nothing, ignoring my heart beating in my chest and my stomach curling.
“Yeah, it shocked me because King doesn’t kiss. Ever.” Killian snorts. “And that was a kiss that was hot enough to be turned into porn.” My eyes fly up to the rearview mirror and then go back to the road. “Just know that he’s never had a girlfriend. Ever. There will never be a girlfriend as far as King goes. As long as you’re cool with that, then you’re good.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I swallow past the boulder in my throat. I’m a damn masochist because the pain that comes with this knowledge doesn’t stop me from asking questions, knowing that the answers are going to hurt me.
