Page 75 of Embrace

Sweetheart.

We head toward the kitchen, and my back brushes against his chest as he looms over me, a steady shadow guiding me through the crowd of stumbling partygoers.

The room tilts with him so close, so constant. It’s sharper when we reach the kitchen and he corners me against the counter. I’m not sure he even notices, but when he reaches over my head for a glass, I can’t stop my thoughts from tracing the press of his hips against mine.

He steps away for just a moment to fill the glass, and when he returns, I’m still swaying, caught somewhere between breathless and unsteady.

“Can I touch you?” he asks suddenly.

“Yes.” The answer slips out of my mouth before I even have time to process what he’s asked. But even with my lagging brain, I’m smart enough not to make an embarrassingly desperate sound when his hands land on my waist. His fingers grip me hard through the thin material of my costume. I’d be fine if he ripped it open and left me bare against him. Anything if it meant I got to feel his thick, callused fingers dragging slowly and mercilessly down my skin.

But the fantasy shatters when he lifts me with ease and sets me on the countertop.

“Drink,” he says, pressing the glass of water into my hand.

I pout. His answer is a low sound in his throat before he leans down, his mouth brushing my temple. The softest kiss, but it burns like fire. Maybe it’s the alcohol making every touch feel sharper, heavier, disorientingly good. Or maybe it’s just him, like it always is.

Kian strokes his thumb against my waist as he moves in closer, taking up the space between my thighs, filling it. I let my legs open wider without him asking.

His gaze pins me, hot and unblinking, as I tip the water back. I wipe my mouth with my hand, and before I can take a breath, he’s already holding out another glass.

I shake my head, pushing it away. “No more.”

“Scar—”

I push it toward him. “You drink it. I can smell the tequila on you.”

“I’m okay.”

I stare at him, daring him to break. He always puts everyone else first, but I want to see him crack for me. “Please?”

Kian lifts the glass, his throat works with every gulp, and I grip the edge of the countertop. Some of the water trickles out of his mouth and drips down his chin, and I imagine leaning forward, licking the wet trail from his jaw, tasting salt and tequila and Kian.

I take the glass, but I’m disoriented, dizzy from the sight of him. I drop it too fast, the sharpcrackof shattering glass making me jerk and guilt instantly rushing in.

“I’m so sorry. Shit. I didn’t think it would break.” My heart pounds. I try to slide off the counter, but he doesn’t let me. He keeps me pinned there.

I stare at him with questioning eyes.

There’s a much smaller, much younger part of me that’s dropped something by accident and gotten yelled at. So I sit there, wondering why he doesn’t look angry or even annoyed. Doesn’t even tell me to clean it up.

Kian takes the jagged glass from me so calmly it makes my stomach twist. No anger, no frustration. Just him. He turns my hands over, checking every inch of my skin.

It’s foreign, so ridiculous, I try to pull my hands away. Because this isn’t how this goes.

Kian just keeps my hands steady in his. I blink hard and fast, willing the tears to go away, but the alcohol doesn’t make it easy.

Kian moves to throw the glass away, but the sharp edge slices into his finger as he lets go. A single bead of blood forms, and I don’t think.

Instinct or recklessness, I don’t know, but I catch his hand andbring his finger to my mouth. His body stays pressed between my thighs, and a heady rush makes my head spin.

But just as quickly I realize what the hell I’m doing and pull away. Embarrassment burns my cheeks, but I ignore it and the metallic taste in my mouth. I slide off the counter and move Kian’s hand under the running faucet. I’m frantically rummaging through a nearby drawer when he stops me, pulling one open and taking out a Band-Aid. They’re Bratz themed.

“Kian!” A melodic voice fills the kitchen, and I see a blond blur move past me.

I’ve never been violent in my life, but right now feels like a good time to start.

“Hey, Cass.”