Page 18 of A Very Killer Christmas
He kisses my right temple, slow and careful, and then slides lower to kiss my cheek. I jolt in his arms with a gasp of understanding, because I know what comes next, there’s only my mouth left, and I don’t know if I can handle it. My head is spinning.
“And now, come here. Breathe. Just breathe.”
My face is buried in warm cotton stretched over solid muscle, and I breathe in the scent of roses. He holds me to him, hiding me from the world. My blood roars in my ears, and yet, I distinctly hear his deep sigh of pleasure. His chest moves under my cheek, broadening with the deep inhale, and then shifts again as he releases a long, content stream of air.
He’s so fascinating. I think I’d like to see him breathe without his clothes on. I’d like to press my hands to his ribs and feel them expand and contract, and then, I’d like to feel his stomach, and… and see what being a grower is all about…
He rests his chin on top of my head like I’m the perfect height for him as his open palms slide over my back, their breadth ridiculous. He can hold so much of me just with his hands, and as my last tense breath whooshes out of me, I finally trust his words.
You’re safe. Nothing to be afraid of.
And yet, I’m not happy. There’s a little pang of disappointment buried in my chest, and as Rowley hums, his body vibrating with the sound, I realize why I feel this way.
He didn’t kiss me again. And I really wanted him to.
Chapter 8
Rowley
Precious.That’s how she feels in my arms, this awkward, anxious girl, a gem hidden away in this house, unknown to all but me.
When she relaxes, her body folding into mine like it was made for me, I almost coo with praise. I hold it back the same way I did the urge to take her on the kitchen linoleum like a savage just now. It takes every ounce of self-control I have, but it’s necessary.
God, the way she trembled when I kissed her. I could tell at once she had no idea what to do, my precious girl who’s never been kissed, and it made me ache deep inside.
“That’s it,” I murmur when she burrows in deeper, because I can’t help myself.
And it’s working. She sighs against me as I stroke her hair, and her body is soft, finally at peace. I will do this every day—just hold her so she can rest. She’s so lonely, so unused to being touched, but I’ll fix it all.
I’ll give her what she needs. Whatever it is.
“Um. Rowley? Can you let go now?”
Her voice sounds small and uncertain. I sigh with regret and step back, watching her for signs of distress. I told myself I would take it slow and let her get used to me, but it’s impossible to resist the need building in my body. My hands itch to keep touching her, and now that she’s gone, I feel bereft.
“Are you all right?” I ask, swallowing the “sweetheart” that wants to follow.
Too much affection will probably make her uneasy.
“I guess.” She looks up with a cute, thoughtful frown, and I wait patiently until she speaks again. “You kissed me.”
“I did.”
Silence stretches between us while she fidgets with the edges of her sleeves, her mouth moving as if trying on words to see how they feel in her mouth.
“Why did you do that?” she finally asks.
“Because I wanted to.”
She clicks her tongue impatiently. “But why?”
Well, I cannot lie to her, but I can be gentle about it. “Because I’m attracted to you. Very much.”
She shakes her head in exasperation. “Why?!”
“Do I need a reason?” I ask as I try to come up with words that describe the way my body lights up when she’s near, and how full and hopeful I feel when I look into her eyes.
The perfect girl who knows my worst secret and doesn’t run away.
