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Because, holy hell, is it doing things for me.
Her hips wiggle lightly from side to side in beat with the song she’s singing. I stand rooted in place, hard as a rock, watching her.
Rayne crawls deeper under the piano, her lower back arching as she swipes at a dusty spot on the floor. She sings a couple mumbled bars under her breath. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May… what could make me feel this way?”
I smirk and murmur the next few lyrics. “Talking ‘bout my girl, my girl.”
Rayne yelps and tries to jump up, but she only succeeds in bashing her head against the underside of the piano. A few jarring notes clang through the piano’s shell.
“Ow!” She whimpers and presses her forehead against the floor. I move over to her, but she crawls further under the piano. “Go away.”
“That’s the concussion talking. Come here.”
“I don’t have a concussion. Go away.” Rayne peeks at me from under her arm. She’s still hunched over, her uniform stretched skin tight across the curve of her hips. I can’t stop myself from glancing from her face to the rest of her body.
“If I walk away and you die under this piano, it will be a hassle for me,” I tell you. “Legally, I have to check you out.”
In more ways than one.
“That’s not true,” she snaps. “I can check myself out.”
She lowers her hand from the back of her head and goes to push herself to a sitting position, but the second her hand touches the floor, it slides out from under her. She lifts her palm and we both see why.
Blood.
“Okay. Enough.” I bend down and grab her leg. “Come out now.”
“It’s just a cut. I’m okay. Let me—”
I yank on her ankle, dragging her across the smooth floor.
“Kirill!” she groans.
God, my name sounds good on her lips.
“Stop fighting before you get blood everywhere,” I order.
I have a firm hold of her ankle, but she flips onto her back and glares up at me. “Let go of me and I won’t have to fight.”
“I grabbed you because you were already fighting. I think it’s your default setting.”
“And manhandling me is yours.” She tries to kick my hand away with her other leg, but I quickly swoop down and grab her wrist. I swing her up into the air and then catch her in my arms. The movement is so fast that Rayne clings to me out of sheer self-preservation.
Satisfied, I start the march out of the room. “Where are you taking me?” She pushes against my chest, smearing blood across my shirt. The sight of it seems to remind her that she’s hurt. She presses a hand to the back of her head again and winces. “This is all your fault. You surprised me.”
“This isn’t your house. You should expect me to be around.”
“Well, you weren’t around all day.”
“Good to know you noticed.”
She opens her mouth to respond and then slams it closed. That’s just as well.
I move into the kitchen and drop Rayne on the edge of the island. Immediately, she tries to slide down and scurry away, but I press my palms against her knees. “Stay put. I’m going to get a first aid kid.”
“I can stand on my own.” She tries to slide down again and my hands slip higher on her thighs.
On instinct, her legs part. My body settles between her knees. It’s natural, the two of us sliding together. Like water finding the lowest point. Just laws of nature being obeyed.
