Thin Love (22 page)

She felt Kona’s breath rising, hot and heavy against her cheek and loved that her fingers on his neck, pulling him deeper, had him moving faster, still slow, still calm, but desperate enough that his breathing became frantic, that his hands on her face, in her hair, shook.

She wanted this. Him. Her. Their touch, the magic in every brush of his fingers, the glide of his tongue, with her always. It was needy, desperate and she loved the white hot craving of him, of how her body reacted to him, how her heart hammered hard like an earthquake.

They kissed and touched—his mouth on her neck sucking, nibbling, her fingers in his hair, her teeth biting his ear—and before Keira even realized what was happening, the windows fogged over, advertising to anyone watching what was happening in that Camaro. And then suddenly, a loud bang on the hood and Keira’s eyes opened and Kona’s happy moan turned into a grunt of frustration at whatever jackass it was that had interrupted them as a joke, laughter ringing in their hasty retreat.

Kona sat back, sweat dotting his forehead, and Keira blinked, shot up in the seat and grabbed the door handle.

“Wait.” Kona leaned across the seat covering her hand to stop her from leaving. “Where are you going?”

His frown was almost funny, but the rounding of his eyes told Keira that her leaving that car would undo him. She twisted her wrist so that she could hold his fingers and then brushed that massive hand aside. “I’m going to my room, Kona.” She got out of the car and he sat staring at her, frown deeper, forehead wrinkled with tension. Keira bent down once she was out of the car, leaning forward to smile at him. “You coming or not?”

Kona felt like a punk. And he was, or at least he was acting like one, but Keira did something to him. She made him smile, made him laugh, she had him wanting to take her on dates. And he couldn’t stop touching her. That skin, that taste, the soft little sounds she made when he kissed her, it undid him, had him forgetting that he was just testing the waters, seeing where this thing with Keira would lead him.

Even the curve of her neck as she stood in front of the door to unlock it, had Kona’s chest feeling tight. She barely managed to slip her key in the lock and Kona couldn’t hold himself back. Keira smelled like heaven, all flowery and delicious and her body was a miracle, fine, strong lines, muscle and soft curves and he brushed her hair away to get to that body. Mouth on the smooth planes of neck, lips dragging against each bump, Kona felt her tremble against him.

“In… inside,” she managed, and then the door was open and they were alone.

She kept her back to him, movements slow, silent as she threw her purse and keys onto the bed. She wore dark jeans and a red, fitted shirt with a low back. Kona hadn’t been able to stop watching the small expanse of skin that peeked out of that shirt all night. He’d been dying to kiss her neck, her back, since she walked out ahead of him as they left her dorm earlier. Now it called to him, with her standing next to the bed, shoulders stiff and the appealing silhouette of her hour glass shape just feet from him. He couldn’t stop himself from coming behind her, from wrapping his arms around her waist so he was close enough to taste the scent of her on his tongue.

“I love this,” he said, moving her hair again to get to her neck. He pushed down her shirt and she didn’t object. “And this. Your back is sexy, Wildcat.” Keira moved her neck, giving him easy access to all that glorious skin and he felt her tremble again, arms shaking, hand lifting to his hair as he kissed between her shoulder blades.

She made a noise that sounded like a song to Kona; low, sensual groans as his hands moved up her ribs, as his kisses and licks against her back and neck deepened. Her skin became a sheet of goose pimples that Kona tried to smooth down with his tongue and Keira pressed against him, groans elevating into sounds that were higher, sounds that told Kona she liked how he touched her. And when he couldn’t control his hands, when they came up to cup her breasts, those sounds Keira made were like a symphony; glorious, intoxicating music that made Kona brush his thumbs against her nipples, made him pinch down on them until she was gasping, until she moved her ass against his hard dick.

“Kona…
God
…” She turned, arms sliding around his neck and Keira kissed him, frantic, eager, tongue immediately separating his lips, then working against his. “Make me buzz,” she said, between kisses, “make my whole body buzz.”

And Kona realized, in that moment, with Keira’s sweet body and provocative scent making him high, making him so drunk on her, that he would do anything she asked. He’d make her skin sing, just to have her touch him the way she was then, just to hear the happy moan shooting out of her mouth like a melody.

Instinct took over and he picked her up, hands on her ass, directing her legs around him. “I’ll make you buzz, Wildcat.”

Her purse and keys fell to the floor when he laid her on the bed, their hips pushing against each other. Kona knew what she wanted, what she needed. He’d experienced enough moments like this in the three years since he’d been fucking anything that would have him. Senior year of high school had been amazing. Freshman year had made him an expert. This sophomore semester and all of this was old hat. So he knew how to touch a girl to make those moans come quick and easy. He knew where to kiss, how fast to move his fingers, his tongue, so that a girl called his name like a chant.

Kona had moves, practiced, tested moves, and he meant to use them just then. He meant to kiss Keira’s neck, slide his hands in her hair as he attacked behind her ear, down to the slope of her shoulder. Then, he meant to get her out of her clothes, move her knees apart, and slip inside her. Those were Kona’s moves. Usually. That’s what he’d figured out worked best when the girl he was with was anxious, eager to get there.

But Keira Riley was not most girls. Keira was blunt and wild and angry. Keira was beautiful and smart and funny. Keira had crawled into Kona’s brain, separated herself from the memory of everyone he’d ever touched until she became the bright, shining spot among the faceless masses. He could not touch Keira like he had every other girl. She was special.

When she moved her knees in, pulling him closer to her and Kona could feel that sweet, hot warmth rubbing against his dick, he jerked back, wanting to slow down, wanting every touch to be different, to be just for her. He needed to feel her, needed her beautiful blue eyes looking at him, seeing him when he touched her. This was too fast. This was too practiced and with Keira, Kona didn’t want speed and quick release. He wanted all of her.

Damnit. How had that happened?

“Wait,” he said, taking her arms away from his shoulders before he sat up. “Hang on.”

Keira followed him, lips on his neck, fingers tugging his hair. “What’s wrong?” she said between bites to his ear.

“We have to stop.”

“What?” She slid back, resting against the headboard. “Why?”

Kona didn’t know how to explain himself. How do you tell a woman who clearly wants you, who you clearly want, that you want to take your time with her? That you don’t want the moment over too quickly? Eyes shifting to her face, Kona felt like Keira had sucker punched him. That expression transformed instantly, working from confusion to anger before he could blink twice.

“We need to slow down.”

Kona wished he could read her mind. Most of the time, he didn’t need to; whatever Keira was thinking was typically written on her face in the way her big eyes narrowed to small slits or how those full lips pinched tight like a corkscrew. But, Kona had noticed in the past few weeks that Keira had learned to guard her expressions around him. She’d learned how to hold back and hide at least some of what she was thinking. He didn’t like it and he especially didn’t like the frown she gave him then, how she pulled her knees to her chest like she was trying to keep him away from her.

“I get it.” Kona thought she really didn’t. That frown on her face hardened, dipped so that there were barely noticeable lines around the corners of her mouth. “It’s fine.” He reached for her when she left the bed, but Keira was fast, slight and she moved quickly to the door. “I’ll see you later,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

She kept her gaze down, the expression on her face telling him she was either mad or embarrassed, but he still came in front of her, shoulder against the door. When he reached for her face, Keira lurched back as though she couldn’t stand his touch.

“You really don’t get it, Wildcat.”

“Don’t call me that.” He knew she was angry. She only told him not to call her Wildcat when she was angry or annoyed. He tried again and this time she let him touch her face, though she closed her eyes, hiding from him.

“Keira, look at me.” Hand shifted to the back of her neck, he pulled her toward him. “What’s wrong?”

When she answered him, lids blinking and barely glancing at him, Kona wanted to punch something. “I don’t do it for you. I get it.” Finally, she looked at him fully. “I know I’m not like the girls you’re usually with. I’m not Tony—”

“Shut up.” He shifted, moved fast to trap her against the door, forced her chin up so she would look at him. “No. You’re not like them. You’re nothing like them. You’re so much more.”

“But you stopped touching me.”

Her voice was so small then and on any other girl, the tone might sound whiney and weak. But Keira was neither, and in her expression Kona saw real confusion, real hurt. That look gutted him, had the anger in his chest cooling.

“I want you.” When she laughed, a defeated, pathetic sound, Kona’s irritation bubbled. “I want you so much, Wildcat.” He grabbed her hand, brushed it over his still hard and aching dick.

She pulled her hand away and tried to push against his chest. “You’re twenty, Kona. You’d get hard with the right breeze on a windy day.” When she elbowed him, pushing his chest with her arm, Kona grabbed her, picked her up again before he shoved her on the bed. “Get off me.” Keira’s twisting body, flailing limbs and arms were weak, a halfhearted defense and Kona knew she didn’t want him going anywhere.

“Stop it,” he said, catching her chin when she twisted her head away from him. “Just stop.” He attacked her mouth, pouring into that kiss all the scattered things fighting for control in his mind. Lust, desire, compassion, tenderness; Kona wanted to give them all to Keira. He leaned back and Keira was breathless. He loved her like that. “Fucking is too easy and I remember you said you don’t want easy.” She fought a smile and the tension in her body eased. “I’m trying to give you what you want, Wildcat.”

She rolled her eyes, but Kona knew she wasn’t angry anymore. “I get CPU’s whormeister in my bed and he just wants to kiss me.”

Exhaling, Kona rolled onto his side, pulling Kiera toward him. “I could fuck you and it would be good.”

Keira punched his shoulder. “Thanks. Nice having that salt just flooding into my wound.”

“I’m saying, Wildcat. You don’t want good. You want great. Fucking is easy. Fucking is expected and I do want you.” He pulled her even closer, directing her leg over his. “I want you so much that this screaming voice in my head is telling me to shut the hell up and get you naked. But you’re better than this. You’re better than any of this and when I have you, when I have all of you, Wildcat, it won’t be easy and fast.” Kona kissed her forehead and Keira looked up at him. “When I have you, it’ll be slow and long and it will leave you panting.”

She took his kiss gladly, responding to his tongue and his hand flat against her ass with another soft moan. “This is going to be hard,” she said, scooting back from him. Kona released an unrestrained snort and Keira shook her head, laughing. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Why?” He liked how she felt against him. Liked that her small body fit perfectly underneath his. “I said I wanted to slow down. I didn’t say I’d leave you hanging.”

“What do you mean?”

That first night in her dorm, Kona had guessed that Keira wasn’t used to being around men. She’d been nearly shirtless and scared. She’d responded to his hands on her back, to how close he sat next to her, but she’d also been rigid, nervous. He’d assumed it was because she didn’t know what to do with the sensations working in her body. He’d assumed it was because she’d never been in that situation before. But the night they watched
Les Mis,
she told him she wasn’t the innocent little creature he thought she was. So why wasn’t she catching his meaning now? Did she lie to him just to throw him off? Kona didn’t think that was Keira’s way.

He leaned on his elbow then, wanting to see her expression, wanting to see if she got all nervous and fidgety like she usually did when she was trying to mess with his head. “You’re really not a virgin? If you weren’t then I’d figure you’d catch my meaning.”

She frowned at him and one eyebrow came up in a challenge. “I’m not a virgin. I’m not as active as you, but I’m not a virgin.”

“What’s your number?” When Keira sighed, he pulled her closer to him, hand gripping her ass. “Come on, I’ll tell you mine.”

“No thanks.” Her body took on a small shudder as though the thought of how many girls Kona had been with was a scary, disgusting thing. “I don’t think I want my head to explode.”