Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(19)
But her hair glowed against the faint overhead light and the sweet jasmine scent had his fingers itching, aching to touch her. In one hand, Kona took her hair in his hand, moving it over her shoulder. It was softer than he expected, thick wisps of silk that felt good, indulgent against his fingers, but he didn’t linger on how sweet she smelled, how much he liked the feel of her hair running through his fingers.
“I, ah, have to lift your shirt up,” he said. He waited a second for her to fuss, to move away from him, but then Keira looked over her shoulder, eyes still narrowed and tight before she nodded once.
Fingers barely grazing her skin, Kona helped her take the cardigan off, then lifted the shirt, revealing the pale, soft flesh, the faint looping birthmark on her lower back, the delicate white bra. His mouth watered and Kona closed his eyes, tried not to lean over her, tried to keep his mouth from that tempting back.
Keira’s skin was smooth, enticing, and Kona smiled at the contrast between the muscle there and the dark skin of his rough hands. Light and dark. Night and day, and he didn’t mind how different she was from him.
She had a strong back, curved with long muscle that made her spine concave, defined. Fine, barely there baby hairs rose when he pushed the shirt up, set it on her shoulders.
He squeezed his fingers once, a touch Kona hoped she took as reassuring and he thought she moaned, thought maybe she’d liked his hot breath against her exposed back, but he wouldn’t see how far she’d let him touch her, how much of her she’d show him. He didn’t think that pushing her, that touching her more than was necessary just to see how she reacted to more of his hands, to his fingers against her damp skin, would soften that on-guard attitude Keira had. But it was hard for him to restrain himself. She was beautiful. He hadn’t seen that before the night when she had raged at him in the cafeteria, but seeing her back, how unguarded she was to him now, confirmed Kona’s suspicions that Keira Riley was a subtle beauty, more woman than girl.
A pent up, surprising sensation took hold of him then; it was the quick need to see her safe, to protect her. He’d caught a hint of it out on the street when that * stood over her, ready to pounce. In that moment, Kona hadn’t thought beyond racing toward them. He’d never experienced anything like it before, didn’t know why he felt so compelled to keep her away from everyone, anything that would threaten her.
The bruises had already formed. They were faint, imprints of the screws sticking out from the drain, but there was no blood, nothing more than brush burns really. Tentatively, Kona ran his thumb along the raw scratches and Keira winced, shuddered.
“Sorry. You okay?”
Her nod was quick, likely forced and Kona didn’t think the goose bumps on her arms, shooting down her back was from any pain she’d felt. Right then, in the quiet, still dorm room Kona decided that her beautiful, strong back was one of his favorites things about Keira and if she ever gave him a shot, it would be one of the first places he kissed her.
Her back had not relaxed. It had, in fact, grown stiffer, straighter as he touched her and Kona smiled to himself, kept his humor in check at how uncomfortable she seemed, how she was so convinced that he simply wasn’t to be trusted.
“You know,” he said, keeping his palm flat, still next to the largest bruise, “I’m not such an *.” Kona could only see the sharp arch of her eyebrow when she looked over her shoulder. “And I wouldn’t use a situation like this to take advantage of a girl.”
“I never said…”
“I don’t have to, Keira.”
He hoped she caught his meaning. He hoped she knew that he wasn’t like her. They were so different, and part of him wanted her knowing the truth. He wanted her, he’d be a liar to deny that to himself. Keira was all soft and supple, but with edges he didn’t think she’d let him breech. He didn’t want anything more than to taste her, touch more, but that would be it for him. He had no time for anything more than a hookup and he figured that Keira wasn’t a hook up kind of girl. Her nervousness, the anxious way she held herself as he touched her, told Kona that she didn’t know what to do with herself, how to handle the sensations of his hands on her, of her being vulnerable to him.
He knew she was probably a virgin and for a brief second, Kona thought what a delicious temptation that was and if he was the bastard she thought he was, he’d take her right here, show her how to move that fit body, teach her what feels best, what takes the ache away. He was an *, sure, definitely a bit of a slut, but Kona wasn’t a bastard.
Keira didn’t comment on his admission, she didn’t do much more but stretch her neck to look him in the eyes and Kona couldn’t smile, didn’t have a single smartass comment to make. He could only stare back at her, return that intense gaze, watch those full, parted lips, how they glistened from the light above them.
He wasn’t a bastard, wouldn’t try to get her to give in to him, but he was a twenty-year old boy sitting too close to a beautiful girl. Kona let his hand rest on her neck, let his thumb rub along the soft, soft skin there before he moved back the hair from her forehead.
“You’re good,” he told her, voice low, raspy.
“I’m what?”
He smiled, eyes flicking down to her back. “Just a couple of bruises and some small brush burns.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He lowered her shirt, unable to stop himself from dragging the tips of his fingers along her skin. He reached up, brushed back that soft hair from her shoulder. Kona couldn’t make his hand leave her hair. He wanted to see what she would do, if she’d lean against him, move her head toward his and steal a kiss. There was a small, lingering moment when they only stared at each other, two sets of eyes moving over each other’s faces and Kona couldn’t help himself, loved the pretty blush that that worked over her pale cheeks when he was arrogant and flirting.