Thin Love (20 page)

Kona’s hiss was low and Keira could see, by the return of his glare and the tremble on his top lip that he was trying to control his anger. A half a step, barely passable as a movement at all, and Keira’s heart thudded hard. Nostrils flared with his heavy exhale and then, like a blink, Kona’s smug smile erased his anger.

“Didn’t know you liked the rough shit, Wildcat.”

It was his laugh that blinded her. She couldn’t hear anything but the heavy rush of her blood pumping in her ears and the echo of his humor in the dark hallway. Then, the rage that only Kona could pull from her, had her lashing out. She stood straight, defensive, and slapped him right across the face.

The sound was like a whip, quick and deafening. She’d moved away from herself in that moment, replaced by some creature consumed with venom and she didn’t understand why her fingers stung or why Kona’s head was turned away from her and his skin was streaked with a bright red handprint.

He turned his head, unhurried, a shift in his eyes that came before his face was back in front of her. And inexplicably, the look he gave her and then the slow, meticulous slide of his tongue in the corner of his mouth, had Keira’s nipples pebbling against her shirt.

That look made her wet.

She expected his anger. She expected him to back away, to snatch from her the heat that his body and the moment poured over her skin. But Kona’s eyes did not narrow. They didn’t squint down in his anger and his face was not a mask of abject rage. Kona Hale brought his tongue into his mouth, before the cleft in his chin came up and a smile slid across his face.

Keira stopped breathing.

And then that mysterious, unnamable zip that always crackled between them shot out hard, like the force of a lightning bolt, and Keira didn’t think about why she wasn’t scared, why she found it impossible to squeeze her legs together tight enough to take the throb away.

The throb became a pulse and that pulse beat into an ache when Kona’s deep growl grew louder, sounded nearer the closer he leaned toward her. The growl wasn’t angry, wasn’t a coil of frustration and Kona paused, lingered just long enough in front of Keira until all she felt was hot, tantalizing breath on her face.

Kona grabbed her collar and Keira let him, wanted him close, wanted him dragging her forward. “I fucking love your hands on me, Wildcat.”

They came together quick, with the speed of a shot. The frenzy was hard, gripping,
gripping
fingers, mouths and tongues colliding, anger and desire and beautiful heat collecting, touching so that the zip Keira had denied for weeks flooded into a landslide.

For every thrust against her, Keira gave two. With Kona’s strong hands pulling her against him, Keira scratched across his skin and the dance played on, harder, fiercer, shedding logic or caution.

Push.

Pull.

Give.

Take.

Their sounds filled the empty hallway; moans and grunts, breaths held and released, lips sucking, all became a cacophony of sounds that announced the break of resistance and the end of denial.

Kona lifted her up, pressed her against the wall and some primal urge directed her, had her slipping her legs around his waist, skirt rising up her thighs and Keira didn’t care that they could be discovered. The idea of someone catching them, in fact, made her wetter, had her clawing at Kona tighter.

“
God
… oh God,” she said when Kona grabbed her ass, when she felt the thick, brutal outline of his dick jutting against her. She craved that touch, the weight and girth of what waited for her, his hot, heavy breath on her skin, of his wide, perfect tongue slipping in her mouth. Kona was large, too large and consuming, his weight too heavy against her chest, his fingers too tight against her nipples and Keira pulled back, gasping from the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t breathe.”

“I got plenty breath for the both of us.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow and Keira felt both drunk and consumed, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and at that moment all she wanted was Kona’s skin on hers, the smell of his sweat, the heat of his body covering her.

Dizziness came to her, made the air around her confining and she pulled her mouth from his, needing a moment to breathe air that did not taste and smell of Kona to keep from drowning. “Wait.”

His grunt was deep, frustrated, but Kona pulled back, chest in a heavy pant, his forehead on her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. And in that moment the old Keira gained a toe-hold, and she let reason slip back in between the raging, dark thoughts. “What the hell are we doing?” He looked up at her and she gasped at the claw marks on his neck and the angry scratch on his chin. When had she done that? “Oh God. What… what the hell are we doing?”

“Keira, it’s been coming for weeks. You know that.”

“This is stupid. This, I’m not… this isn’t me.”

“No. It’s not.” Kona pulled her legs from his waist and his hands moved back to her face. His voice was level, calm. “This is you with me.”

Instinct had her retreating. She had groped Kona in the middle of a strange hallway where anyone could see them. She had left Mark downstairs waiting and Leann likely worrying about how she’d get home. She’d attacked Kona, got turned on - so very turned on - by the scratches and slaps she leveled at him. She let him touch her. She let him grip her. These were not the actions of a sane person. And the fear of what she had done, of what she had allowed herself to do, crowded deep in her mind, had Keira taking too many breaths, shifting too far away from Kona’s reaching arms.

“I have to go.”

“Why? Going to find your date?”

“No, I’m just getting away from you.”

His arms came around her waist when she made for the elevator. “Don’t act like being with me would be a bad thing.” His chest felt wide, edges and dips that she couldn’t help leaning against. “Don’t act like you don’t want me.” She didn’t bother arguing, resisting the wet path he made against her neck with his lips. “I’m not like this, not usually. Only with you. You’re in my head too much. The smell of your hair, the way you taste, your nerdy jokes. I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me stupid.”

“I told you, Kona,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t do hook ups. I’m not Tonya.”

Kona winced and Keira took a step forward, needing not to see that expression. “I know you’re not and I’m glad you’re not her.” He took her hand, pulled her around so she could see his eyes. “There isn’t anyone like you, Wildcat. No one, and I have no idea what that means, but I wanna find out.” When Kona moved his hands down her back, Keira could only think of tasting his full lips and the airy breath on her tongue again. “Let me, will you? Don’t walk away.”

She knew how easy saying yes would be. Kona was hard to reject, but Keira didn’t trust whatever was happening between them. It felt too foreign, too thick. “I… I can’t. Not with you, Kona. I’m not…”

“This about Tonya still? You think I’m into her.” He looked up at the ceiling, stretching his neck. “I’m not,” he said, staring back at her. “I’m not into anyone. You can’t hold that against me forever.”

“Why not? I’m only observing, here. Only collecting the facts to form an opinion.”

Shoulders slumping, Kona pulled back, but didn’t seem able to keep his hands off her completely. “You think I’m trash?”

“I think you’re easily bored. I think you have no idea what real emotion is.” A breath, and then Keira cleared her throat. “I think you’re incapable of what I want. Thin will never be good enough for me.”

With his frown, Keira knew Kona was remembering their conversation about
Beloved
. She wanted the real, the impossible, the consuming, and despite how they touched each other, how the fire between them set flame to their bodies, she wasn’t convinced Kona was able to be what she needed.

“Let me try.”

“I can’t…”

“I’m not making promises,” he said, ignoring her protest. “That’s not me.” His hand went back to her face and just that small touch rekindled the ache between her thighs. “But dammit, Keira, I have to be around you.” He walked them back, leaned her against the wall again and Kona’s breath came out hard, like he was trying to keep it steady. “You have to let me try.”

Next to them, the elevator doors opened and despite the warning that came when the bell chimed, Kona did not push away from Keira. Neither of them checked the hallway or noticed they weren’t alone.

“Keira?” Mark’s voice was like an alarm and Keira pulled Kona’s hand from her face, tried to adjust her shirt, smooth her hair. When his eyes shifted over her rumpled clothes, Keira saw the shifting expression on Mark’s face. A little disappointment, maybe a quirk of humor. He still reserved a quick frown for Kona. “You okay?”

“She’s fine.” Kona pulled Keira’s fingers between his.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Mark said, throwing back Kona’s words to him.

The linebacker’s breath grew heavy and Keira could tell by the flex in his hand that his calm was ebbing. She hurried in front of him, not caring for once that her cheeks were flushed. “I’m fine, Mark.” She smiled, took a step toward him when he continued to frown. “Promise.”

Mark waited a moment, gaze moving between Kona and Keira before it settled on her face. “Leann and Michael took a cab back to his place. My car’s parked a block away.” He left the offer open, telling Keira he’d let her make a decision.

“I’ll get her home.”

Mark didn’t bother acknowledging Kona. Fair play for the asshole behavior, Keira figured, but when Mark’s squint and slow quirking smile told her he wasn’t angry, Keira relaxed.

She could feel Kona’s breath blowing against the top of her head. She could smell the mix of sweat and cologne from his skin and, despite the audience, the sensation was overwhelming, penetrating so that Kona’s brief, brush of a touch against her neck had Keira’s eyes rolling behind her closed lids. The moment kept with the pads of his thumb down her spine and it was only Mark’s clearing of his throat that brought Keira out of Kona’s touch.

“I’ll be fine,” she finally told him.

A quick nod and Mark hit the elevator button, but before he left, he winked at Keira, a quick smile making him seem calm, or at least, less annoyed. “You be careful with this new game plan.”

She smiled at him, offered Mark a quick nod. “Absolutely.”

Kona felt like a stalker. A creepy, stupid, awkward stalker. It was not something he’d ever been. Sitting on the back of a park bench, elbows on his knees and hood over his eyes, Kona caught the attention of the people around him.

A cross country meet wasn’t usually where Kona would be on a Saturday morning and the coaches and scattering of parents around him seemed to know it. He caught several sidelong glances, one or two head nods, and he was glad that other than quick acknowledgements that he’d been recognized was all the notice the small crowd gave him.

Still, he felt stupid waiting near the finish line for Keira to place. She wasn’t expecting him, hadn’t, in fact, even answered the calls he’d made the night before. After their tangle in Nathan’s hallway, things got awkward. He’d driven Keira home and they sat in the parking lot of her building listening to the sound of their matching breaths. The car had filled with her scent, that sweet drugging taste of flower and skin, but Kona didn’t touch her. He’d wanted her to lead.

“What happens next?” she’d asked him and he’d been left stupid by her question.

He knew that being around her made things easier, left him calmer. But faced with that question and the way they’d gone after each other, left Kona at a loss for the next move. That never happened to him.

“Let me take you out,” he’d told her, the thought coming to him out of nowhere. “This weekend. Tomorrow night. No game tomorrow.”

What was left unmentioned then was the way she’d touched him. The slap to his face, what it did to him, how he’d wanted to devour her, he’d let it fill the space in his car, unsure if one glance, one sarcastic comment would have them trying to claw at each other again. So he waited for her reply, trying to ignore the fact that he held his breath until that answer came.

“Okay.” It was all she said. It was all she seemed able to say and when she finally looked at him, quick glance to her left that was shy, unrehearsed, Kona only nodded, held himself back.

He hadn’t even kissed her goodnight.

But he hated how he’d left things. He hated not knowing if she only agreed to a date out of curiosity. He hated that their first real kiss had been full of anger and resentment. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to feel her without any of it being a visceral reaction.

He’d spent the rest of the night in his room thinking about Keira’s mouth and skin and just how much he wanted to feel her, to have her with him always.

It completely messed with his head.

He didn’t know what was happening to him; what Keira was turning him into. He didn’t sleep the night before and found himself in the shower thinking of her; then in his Camaro driving toward her dorm that morning. The light outside her building had been faint, the day still dewy and dark, but Kona couldn’t stop himself from leaving his car, from climbing the stairs toward her dorm, from tapping on her door before seven that morning.