Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(146)

Kona kisses her, loves her with every touch and he plays loud, loud, loud inside her, seeping into the portions of her body, the thin wisps of her soul that only he could ever sing to her. All those years, all the struggle they both endured fades like the reverb disappearing behind a back beat as he comes to her, touching, kissing her against the sink, hands lowering, pulling her to his strong body. He is the drumbeat of her past, the soft melody of her memory coalescing in his extended arms, in the demanding, aching way his fingers play against her skin, under her shirt.

His words come in soft breaths against her skin, his mouth on her chin, across her face and Keira holds onto him, eyes rolling back with those strong, certain hands pulling her in, closer, surer than he ever had before.

But he stops; only a pause that has her blinking, another promise Keira doesn’t believe is spoken lightly. He stares hard, face stern, a promise in his features that his words could never break.

“This time,” he says, breath calm but quick against her neck, “this time I won’t lie to you.” Those chords dip down on her spine, up the tattoo she’d put there for him and he kisses her again, warm lips humming to the top of her pulse. Kona wraps his too large, too heavy arms around her waist. “This time when you walk away, I won’t let you stay gone. This time, Wildcat, I’ll follow.”

But Kona doesn’t follow. He leads. Mouth on hers, tongue touching against Keira’s and then she is lifted up, arms around his neck, legs over his waist, Kona kisses her with a fierceness that is staggering, slow.

“Too long, Wildcat,” he says, stopping for a breath, stopping to look her down, take in her wet lips. He can’t seem to keep himself from her skin for more than a few seconds and Keira closes her eyes, tightening her hands against his neck as he kisses her.

She wants to resist, to remember the promises she made to herself the day she walked away from Kona’s carved up Camaro. She never wanted to try again; never wanted to find anyone worth the gamble of a shattered heart.

But Kona was not some random person wanting her body. He was not some eager cowboy passing her looks across a bar or a cute singer wanting into her studio and her panties. Kona had been her everything, her always too. Keira’s brain tells her to stop; it tells her this is not smart, him touching her, her returning his attentions. Her heart screams louder, is more insistent and so Keira silences that logical refrain that tells her to walk away. The brain is rational but doesn’t know passion, can’t reason with love.

She listens to her heart.

It had been a long, long time since Keira let anyone touch her, longer still since Kona’s mouth was on hers, since she felt the hard planes and beautiful ridges of his body. God, how she’s missed this.

“Kona?” He stops kissing her long enough to look at her, a question moving his eyebrows up. “Make me buzz.”

A low, barely contained growl bursts from his throat and Kona holds her tight, his arm holding her in a steely grip around the waist as he carries her down the hall, into his large bedroom, not once taking his mouth from hers. He consumes her, takes from her any rational thought, but it isn’t like they once were. She isn’t overwhelmed by the sensation, scared by what her body wants.

Kona is slow, easy, sits them on the bed, Keira still wrapped around him, and his gaze stays on her as he slips her shirt off her head. His large fingers spread over her back, pull her bra off her shoulders and he makes to lower himself over her chest, but stops, eyes on hers. “You sure you want this?”

“My body needs this, Kona.”

His smile is light, sweet. “Baby, there isn’t anything I need more than you.”

Kona reaches for her, mouth edging toward her neck, but stops short when Keira’s cell chirps in her back pocket. “I need to talk to our son about his timing.” Kona’s smile is wide and when Keira twists around, is somewhat trapped by her bra straps, Kona slips her phone out of her pocket. He frowns, eyebrows drawn together as he looks at the screen. “Why the hell does he call you Marco?”

Keira’s laugh is quick, spontaneous, and she takes her phone from Kona to stare down at Ransom’s message:



Marco.

Tristan met us here.

Staying at Leann’s tonight.

See you tomorrow.

Have fun!



Keira smells a plot and twists her head to the side to stare at Kona. “We do Marco/Polo to check up on each other.” She shoots off her answer:



Polo.

I’m on to you, lil man.

Be safe.



Phone on the bed, Keira narrows her eyes at Kona. “Why do I get the feeling this sudden concert invite was planned?”

“I didn’t do anything.” At Keira’s small scowl, Kona leans in, gives her a brief kiss. “I promise. Any schemes are all on your son.”

“Oh, he’s my son now?”

His smile widens. “Only when he’s in trouble, baby.” Kona pulls Keira closer, rubbing his mouth against her chest. “So where’d we leave off?”

“I told you my body needs this.”

“That’s right.” One strap down and Kona’s mouth is on her shoulder, tongue tickling over the curve of her breast. “I need this skin.” Then he unfastens the clasps at the back and pulls her free. “I’ve dreamt about these. Years. They are my f*cking happy place.” Kona moves his hand from her back, cupping one breast, teasing it before he closes his mouth around it.