Page 92 of Embrace

It’s so quiet, I can hear the drip of the faucet in the bathroom, the creak of the bed frame.

My skin lights up with awareness every time he grunts from the sting of pain. Then suddenly, his head drops forward until his forehead is pressed against my shoulder.

I muffle a gasp when his breath brushes against my skin, making my nipples tighten around my piercings. My body is covered in goose bumps in seconds.

“Fuck,” he curses, the softness of his lips teasing my skin as they form around the word. I imagine him moving lower, his nose running along the curves of my breasts, teasing me.

Focus, Scarlett.

I quickly finish wrapping the bandage on his knuckles, then notice the cut on his eyebrow.

It must sting because Kian collapses back onto his bed, dragging me forward with him. My palm catches the mattress beside his shoulder.

I hover over him. “Kian, it could get infected. You’re being a baby.”

“I’m a man, Scar, but that shit stings!”

I sigh, climbing onto his bed, my knees braced on either side of him now. I feel him tense beneath me. “Then hold still. And put your hands here.” I place his hands on my thighs. “Just squeeze if it stings.”

“I’m not going to hurt you just because I’m in pain.”

There’s a more selfish part of me that wants to take his words for more than they are. So I laugh. “I’ve got thick thighs. Make them useful, Captain.”

Kian glides his rough palms up from my knees and slowly warms my thighs. When I disinfect the cut, his fingers tighten, and something cooler settles in my stomach.

I want to do it again just to elicit that same response.

But then his gaze catches mine, and my breath stumbles. Before I can think better of it, I lean in and press a kiss beside the cut. We’re chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, my lips grazing his forehead.

Kian’s eyes are shining, his mouth slightly parted as he gazes up at me.

I clear my throat. “My mom used to do that. Sorry. That was weird.”

His lips pull into the tiniest, almost undetectable smile. Kian points to the cut on the corner of his lip. “One more.”

My chest rises and falls harder. “Does it hurt?”

“Terribly.”

I kiss the tiny bruise. I pull back just an inch to his eyes closed, and when they open again, I swear electricity crackles through the room. Kian’s gaze drops to my lips just as mine goes to his.

We’re so close—just an inch and I could taste him. I could have all his sweet words right in my mouth. Have him exactly where I wish he’d been since freshman year.

Kian’s hands slide higher on my thighs. My mouth runs dry, and my body begs for friction. Stupidly, I drop my weight on his lap, and the low, deep guttural groan pours from his lips and burrows underneath my skin.

When his gaze falls to where we’re connected, I imagine what it would feel like with nothing there. That thought sparks like a live wire when Kian’s darkened gaze catches mine.

There’s a hypnotic pull that makes us lean in, and Kian’s strong arm slips around my waist.

Our noses brush and I nearly moan. “Kian.”

“Scar,” he breathes back. “Either I’m misreading this, or you want me to kiss you.”

Hearing it out loud makes me want to dig myself a hole. What I’ve wanted from guys is usually a good time and no talking. With Kian, it’s like I want to stretch whatever this is until I’ve wrapped myself in it. He could just brush his lips against mine and I think it could be enough. I’d make it be enough for me.

This is where I want to be, trapped in the heat of him, tucked against his chest. He’s so safe, so warm, so otherworldly, that I know if the moment passes, I won’t ever know what it feels like to have Kian Ishida want me.

“Only if you want to,” I whisper.