“Shit, I’m sorry,” he whispers, thinking that he hurt me.
How do I even begin to explain that the pain is nothing? I’m used to the pain. It’s his soft, caring actions that are affecting me more.
His eyes hold mine, despite the fact that he should probably be looking at what he’s doing. I feel like he’s trying to tell me something without actually saying the words, but I can’t quite get a read on him.
“I’m so fucking mad at you right now,” he finally grates out, breaking the almost unbearable silence that had fallen between us.
The overwhelming need to apologise to him comes over me, but I bite the words back. I don’t owe him one. I’m my own woman and make my own choices. Okay, so today’s choices may not have been the best, but I needed to see my friend, and it’s not like I wasn’t aware that Jet and his goons wouldn’t be far behind. Sadly, it’s currently a very real and almost normal part of my life.
I let out a sigh and drop my shoulders, suddenly exhausted from the day’s events.
Spike never once takes his eyes off me. It’s as unnerving as it is comforting.
“I’m fine,” I say in what I hope is a reassuring tone.
“That’s not the point, Kas.”
“No? So what is the point?”
“I… I want to keep you safe.” His voice is quiet, like he doesn’t really want to say the words out loud.
“Why? Because you think it’s what my brother would want?”
“Trust me, your brother wouldn’t be too impressed with my thoughts right now.”
“Oh?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, causing his hand to fall from my lip, the ball dropping from his fingers as he lowers it.
“How much does it hurt?” he asks, cupping my jaw and very gently rubbing his thumb over where that fucker hit me.
“Not enough to stop me from doing anything.”
His eyes search mine as if he’s trying to find a reason to put an end to this, to back away, but I fear we’re both already in too deep.
When his gaze drops to my mouth, I can’t help running my tongue along my bottom lip. I swallow the gasp I want to let out when I hit the cut and the taste of copper fills my mouth.
His own tongue sneaks out to match my own. The sight has my heart racing and my fingers twisting in the sheets beneath me.
His eyes drop once more and he locks onto something on my t-shirt.
“W-what?” I ask, wondering what’s so exciting about the white fabric.
“Blood. You’ve got blood on your…”
Ripping my eyes from his, I glance down to see that he’s right.
Without thinking, I wrap my fingers around the hem and pull it up and over my head.
“Jesus, fuck,” Spike barks, standing from his crouched position on the floor.
I follow his line of sight to find purple bruises on my ribs.
“It’s—”
“Do not tell me that it’s fucking fine.”
I shrug, not having any other words for him.
“Fuck. I shouldn’t… fuck.” He lifts his hands to his hair and tugs harshly as he stares down at me. His chest is heaving, the torment evident in his eyes, but clearly the reasons for holding back aren’t quite strong enough, because not a second later he is on me.
His knee presses into the mattress beside my thigh, his fingers wrap around the back of my neck before twisting in my hair, and his lips find mine.
The contact is light at first, and I start to think he’s going to pull away, regretting this impulsive decision, but the second I reach out and fist his shirt in my hand and tug, he loses control.
His lips part, as do mine—greedily—and his tongue dives into my mouth. I waste no time in twisting mine with his as he begins to devour me.
All too gently, he lays me back against the mattress. His hand remains tightly in my hair while the other lands on my waist, dropping down to my arse then thigh so he can wrap it around him when he presses his weight on top of me.
His kiss never falters. It’s dirty, wet, needy, and I fucking love it.
My fingers find the hem of his shirt and I slip my hands under, desperate to feel more of him than just his lips.
His skin is burning hot when I make contact, and I can’t help wondering if he feels the same about mine because he flinches the second I touch him.
His lips pull from mine just a fraction as his dark, lust-filled eyes stare down at me. His kiss-swollen lips are parted, his breath racing over my face.
Panic starts to fill me that he’s about to put the brakes on this, and I scramble to do something that’s going to keep him here with his body pressed up against mine.
Gripping onto the bottom of his shirt, I pull, hoping he’ll get the idea and take over.
Thankfully, after a second, he does. Reaching behind his head, he pulls the fabric off in one smooth motion and drops it over the side of the bed.
He takes my face in both his hands, his thumb gently tracing the cut on my lip.
“Fuck, are you okay?” His eyes are full of concern, regret even, but his voice is deep and rough to the point that it sends shivers down my spine. He needs this just as badly as I do right now, and I’m sure as shit not letting him walk away now he’s here.
“More than okay. Now, as you were.” I might only be small, but when I push against his shoulders, he willingly falls back against the bed, allowing me to straddle his waist and take matters into my own hands.
A smirk tugs at his lips as he watches me. I can see the anger and concern racing through him as he drops his eyes down my body and takes in the bruises that today has left behind. He needn’t worry though, because with
