Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(44)

He stepped forward, shoulders coming up. “You barely talked to him all night.” Back again was his attitude and with it, the elevation of his voice that told Keira his own temper was percolating. “He and Leann’s man were all on each other’s dicks. He’s not into you and I know you’re not into him.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” It was a pointless argument, something Keira decided right then she didn’t need to bother with. Kona Hale didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know her, he didn’t see her and she wouldn’t spend another minute letting him pretend he did. “You never will.” When she turned, eyes narrowed, focused on the down button on the elevator, Kona followed and this time when he grabbed her arm, his fingers bit into her skin.

“Yeah? Bullshit.” She jerked her arm away from him, shoved him once when he backed her next to the elevator. She expected his voice to be licked with fury; his eyes certainly flickered with anger, but when he spoke, Kona’s tone went flat, almost blunt. “You like music and Les Mis and onion rings with extra ketchup.” He stepped closer, eyes calmer. “You like Toni Morrison and think you were Shakespeare’s woman in a past life.” Another retreat from those dark eyes and Keira’s back was against the wall.

He’d remembered. Small tidbits of likes and dislikes, weird habits that she didn’t think anyone noticed, fears of what she didn’t want to become—Kona had paid attention to them all. Quick lunch grabs in the cafeteria and long nights in the library, both of them sweaty and stinking from practice, both rambling about their childhoods, about their families, it all came back to her then. Kona was a mammoth presence with a bigger personality that most days Keira found overwhelming. But there was a person behind that strength and sarcasm that he’d let her see. There was someone kind, someone who just wanted to be heard and Kona had shown her in brief glimpses, small smiles, that until then, she’d put out of her mind. She hadn’t wanted to get attached. She didn’t think he’d bother, but as Kona’s gaze slipped around her face, as his breath moved like a whisper across her cheeks, she realized he’d also seen the girl she was when she thought no one was watching.

“You hate football,” he said, rolling his eyes, “and if you ever have a kid, you want to name her Lennon, maybe Joplin.” Kona moved inches from her then, elbow on the wall by her ear. The space between their faces grew smaller, breath hotter then, closer. “You like sonnets and poetry but are too nervous to enter a poetry slam or sing in front of anyone but Leann.” He brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Does that * know any of that?” There was no tease in his voice, no inflection that made Keira want to lash out. It was curiosity, wonder and, Keira thought, the hint of hope.

She couldn’t think of a defense, nothing that would answer the question in his eyes. “Mark isn’t an * and you need to back up.”

“You don’t want me to back up, Wildcat.”

“Stop calling me—”

“Shut up.” He took her face, large fingers stretching across her cheek, the tips resting on her temple. And then, the smell of beer, the warm touch of his lips covering her mouth and Kona Hale kissed Keira Riley.

Hard.

She heard his growl, felt the tilt of her head as Kona moved it, fingers pressing down and that moan grew deeper. Keira wouldn’t let him control her, wouldn’t release the sweet heat of her anger as Kona consumed her mouth. When he slipped his free hand around her arm, pulling her forward, Keira’s temper flared bright, hot and she pushed back the buzz on her skin and the thought of how delicious he tasted.

He’d kissed her. Again. No regard for her temper. He was too much, assumed too much, wanted too much and Keira couldn’t contain her rage. She pulled away from his mouth and tried not to stare at the wet shine on his bottom lip. Chest moving hard, Kona challenged her with glare, leaned back in, but Keira’s palm against his chest stopped him.

“Don’t do that again.”

“You liked it.” He hadn’t moved; elbow still on the wall at her side, breath fanning against her lashes and then, Kona let some of that arrogant attitude surface. “I liked it.” He underlined his point by moving his hips, brushing his hard dick right against her. “I really f*cking liked it.”

Keira didn’t think, didn’t question why the ripple of heat crowding between her thighs was nothing to the whip of anger Kona’s little move roused in her. She didn’t care that he was beautiful. She didn’t care that she wanted him to kiss her, everywhere. Kona smirked, his throat moving with another growl and she lashed out, pushed his chin with her nails digging deep. She meant to move him aside, to eliminate that leer from her sight, but the sweat from his skin made her fingers slide and she scratched an angry cut along his cheek.

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.