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Hello, new ink.
I haven’t spent time alone with Killian, let alone had the chance to ogle him this freely. Maybe this isn’t new. Maybe I haven’t had the chance to look long enough to see the hints of his tattoo climbing from beneath his collar.
My curiosity rises and envelops me. I sink my fingernails into my palm. A meek attempt to force down the fucked-up urge to slip my fingers between his skin and his suit and take a peek.
I mean, he did have a view of every part of me last night. It’s only fair that I get to check out what ink the mysterious Killian Murdock tattooed to his skin.
I wish I’d find Carter’s name there.
That’d be so. Hot.
In the corner of my eye, I see a red car squeezing past us and almost causing an accident.
Killian hits the brakes and mashes his finger to the wheel, and the horn blares.
“What the fuck?” I yelp. Then add, “Asshole!”
“Motherfucker,” Killian hisses behind clenched teeth, cutting his eyes to mine. “Are you okay?”
My focus should be on his face. Instead, I’m drawn to his hands on the wheel. I notice the broken skin on his knuckles. Last night’s events must be the reason I’ve missed the scraped skin.
Today, I notice. My God, I love the rugged look. Carter gets those lacerations when he boxes without gloves at their building’s gym. Did he convince Killian to give it a try?
These men are too hot to be real. When the three of us would be together, I—
“Hey, beautiful girl.” Killian’s eyes search mine while he ignores the other drivers honking at us. “Are you hurt?”
Right. Where was I?
“I’m fine. About the cameras, Killian, don’t do it. Last night, the man who attacked me waited for me to be home. No one would attack me at my shop.” The more I talk, the more worked up I get. He can’t decide to switch from growling at me to controlling my life. He can’t. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
His dark brown brows pinch in concentration. Lost between navigating through traffic and the conversation he’s having in his own head.
The lengthy silence ensues. We’re almost at my shop. Almost out of this awkward morning-after-yet-not-morning-after talk. The first real one I had with Killian.
I want out. I want to stay here forever.
The polar needs mix and mingle inside my heart, bombarding my senses.
Needing to find an outlet for my hyper-awareness of everything Killian, I squirm in my seat.
Carter would’ve handled this situation far better than I do.
“This isn’t open for discussion,” Killian deadpans. “I—We need you safe. You’re family. We take care of our own.”
The way he talks to me like I belong. To Carter and him. I’m sure he means it like family, but holy hell. He exerts strength control and comfort. Much like Carter, and yet so different.
I bet they’d look beautiful together. Two sides of the same coin. Stroking. Exploring each other’s bodies. Fucking raw and ordering me to join them.
Heat pools between my thighs. I’m breathing hard. The radio is off and Killian must hear every labored inhale. Every shuddered exhale.
I bite the inside of my cheek to silence myself.
My nipples aren’t as easy to control, so I cross my arms over my chest.
The sudden movement causes Killian to whip his head to me.
Wrinkles form on his forehead. A frown curves his lips downward. His hand twitches on the steering wheel.
