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And the confidence to wield the damn weapon.
When I’m done speaking I’m left standing with Kaleb's arms around me, surrounded by the work of dead artists. The room has gotten suspiciously quiet, a feat that simply does not happen in the MET in the middle of the day, and I have a feeling that this was Kalebs doing. I don't know how he did it but I found myself being grateful for the action anyways. Public meltdowns were not exactly my forte, although my recent track record might say otherwise.
Kaleb takes a step back from me and I notice his fists are doing that thing where they open and close, a movement I’m becoming accustomed to as a tell-tale sign Kalebs temper was about to blow. Who would be his victim this time unbeknownst to me.
“When you lost your bodyguards. When I found them at the hospital. Unconscious and sprawled out on the floor-'' he mutters, the words choked, like he can barely get them past his lips. He refuses to look at me, his dark eyes trained on the ground.
“I’ve never known fear like that. It fucked me up.” He looks at me then and the pain in his eyes slices my heart in half,
“You fuck me up Blondie.” His hands are in his hair now, pulling on the ends, and I have the sudden urge to reach out to him, to take those hands in my own and make them mine to hold.
“You bring out the wolf in me. And the wolf in me is hungry for blood Goldie Locks.”
His eyes pierce mine and we’re left standing, staring at one another, Monet’s sad lilies wilting in the background. His dark pupils trace my body and I’m left shivering under his stare. Bold and shameless, his eyes rake me up and down and I cross my arms over my white lace long sleeve top, the ends of which have begun to fray. Meanwhile, he was dressed in a white button-down, the top buttons having been ripped open, blood staining the crisp fabric.
Why was my devil always covered in blood?
The thought circles my mind and I find myself walking towards him. Three steps later I’m close enough to touch his skin, and Kaleb sucks in a breath, his hands unable to stop themselves from brushing across my splotchy cheeks, and just like that I’m in his arms again.
His palms frame my face like a painting you're not supposed to touch and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for his next move. His fingers trace my lips and I’m lost, a delicate glass ornament in his hands waiting for him to crush me.
“You’re not supposed to leave your bodyguards, Rose,” he whispers, his nose brushing mine.
“Don't leave your bodyguards.” The words are dark, and I bristle at the harsh tone. His hands tighten on my face and I’m forced to look up at him, those dark eyes taking me under.
He waits until I nod, the movement so subtle it barely qualifies as an agreement, but he sees it. He sees it and my knees nearly buckle from the relief swarming in his pupils.
Relief for my safety.
Relief the monster seemed to have saved somewhere in his black heart.
For me.
And then his lips are upon me and I can breathe again, like my breath came back to me in one overwhelming life-saving rush. I inhale his scent, his touch, his mouth, like it's the last time I’ll ever taste him. The last time he’ll ever let me this close.
His tongue swipes across my lower lip and I part for him. His tongue invades my mouth and I greedily meet him stroke for stroke. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth and I moan, my hands reaching out desperately to grip the back of his neck before pulling his hair.
At the action, Kaleb groans, his grip on my waist tightening, before he pushes me against the wall. His lips crush against mine like he’s starving, and I give it right back to him. Gripping his shirt in my hands I pull him towards me until there's nothing left between us.
Not even air.
His cock presses hard against me and I moan again, the sound filling the space, and I’m suddenly very aware of what we're doing in a very public space and freeze.
As if reading my thoughts Kaleb presses against me, whispering in my ear,
“There's no one here. I sent them all away. We are alone.” My body melts in relief at his words and I suck in a breath as Kaleb's mouth meets my neck, nibbling on the flesh just underneath my ear,
“Do you really think I’d let them hear you?” He mumbles, his lips sucking on the tender skin of my jaw,
“Do you really think I’d let strangers be able to hear your moans?” His words trace my skin and I’m left on fire from his mouth’s attention on my jaw and neck,
“Do you think I’d let them see you like this, hot, drenched, and completely ready for me?” His hands travel down my body and I lean into his touch, restless for him to cover every inch of my skin with his heat. His lips capture mine briefly and I cry out as he bites into my lower lip, sucking it into his dirty mouth.
“Those moans are mine.” His hands travel underneath my denim skirt and I arch into the touch. His fingers find my slit and I whimper when his fingers part my wet flesh.
“This is mine.” The words are savage. Utterly possessive. I shouldn't like them and yet I was hot, burning from the inside out from the sound of them. Kaleb knew just how to light me on fire and I was in danger of never wanting to leave the flames.
“And no one takes what is mine.” The last words are so quiet I wonder if they are meant to be heard. He’s pressed so close against me that I can feel him everywhere and I ache. I ache for him. The tension between my thighs nearly unbearable.
