Page 19 of Slashes in the Snow
The tip of his nose touches mine, and we both stiffen. What’s happening here? He claims he wants me. Throws out a pigheaded comment every chance he gets, so why is he wavering? Maybe he has the same reservations I do. Maybe he knows crossing a pivotal line will change everything. It doesn’t have to. I’m not expecting a thing. We have a deal. One month, then I’m gone.
A man like Ky Parish doesn't come across as the relationship type anyway, and sometimes that’s just what a girl needs. Something short, sweet, and fun. A distraction. A swipe right.
I’m going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't kiss me soon. I move my hand to the back of his neck and press gently, indicating I want this, want him — right here, right now. The first touch of his lips fires a cannon of excitement. A feeling that races between my core and my heart.
But a brief touch is all we're allowed as the lights flicker on abruptly, breaking the magnetic connection. It was more like a spell, and I think Ky was under it. Once he realizes exactly what’s transpiring, a wall goes up. Something goes haywire. The look on his face as he stares at me is indescribable, and not in a favorable way. But he doesn’t move, or release my hair, or push me away. We’re just frozen in place. What’s he thinking? What does he want? Why is he glaring at me with such . . . disdain? It makes me shrink like a dying violet.
“You can put your clothes in the dryer now.” I retreat from his hold. He allows me to go, but he never takes his vigilant eyes off me. What is he looking at? What does he see? “Should we call the cops?” I stand unsurely.
“Hell no. No cops. I’ll have my guys look into it.” Ky follows suit, standing after he scoops up all his wet clothes. The thunder and lightning have seemed to stop, and even the rain is subsiding.
Maybe our encounter was just as random and haphazard as the storm, and we were just caught up in the quickening thrill of it?
I’m left unsure what to do. I’m totally freaked out, but my instincts are telling me to flee, flee from Ky and his personality shift. I feel beyond stupid. I feel alone and left drifting.
“I’m going to go to bed.” I take a step back. The last thing I want is to be alone, but I can’t be near Ky either.
“Will you be okay?” he asks in all his half-naked glory. I try not to look directly at his body, or at the writing tattooed across his clavicle –“For those I love, I will sacrifice” —or the sleeve of color inked down his arm, or the strategically placed, growling wolf face on the side of his thigh. He’s so unlike anything or anyone I know.
His eyes are the hardest thing to avoid. The sharpness of his gaze is penetrating me like a searing ray of icy blue light.
“I’ll be fine.” I try to sound sure, but my voice betrays me. It’s meek, and sad, and constrained. It’s hurt. I’m hurt, and I know I shouldn't be. I don’t mean a damn thing to Ky Parish, and he just proved that spectacularly.
“’Night, then. I’ll stay up. Don’t worry about anything,” he all but dismisses me, almost eager for me to go.
8
Ky
Kira is goingto be the goddamn death of me.
I’ve never jerked off to one woman so many times in my life. It’s actually becoming torturous. Mainly because it’s my own fucking fault.
I had her right there, right in front of me, a hate-fuck waiting to happen. And I choked. I froze. I fell to fucking pieces right in her arms. And now I’m more frustrated and pissed-off than ever.
I let the hard spray of the shower pelt down on my head as I recover from my umpteenth orgasm this week. Being in this house is motherfuckin’ torment. Surrounded by the constant reminder of my divergent father and in the continual presence of his flawless stepdaughter.
I touch my face, feeling the raised bump of the scar across my eye. I am anything but perfect, but that’s never bothered me before. I’ve always been confident about who I am, even after my father deserted me. But when I’m with Kira, everything is different. I feel different, and I fucking hate it. It’s like I’m broken when I’m around her. It’s like I broke in her arms that night in the dark. I still don’t understand it, and I’m going to keep punishing her for it until I’m straight again. Until I’m me again.
Witches don’t really exist, do they? I’m beginning to wonder. First, my dad with Kristen, Kira’s mom, now me with Kira? Sinking into her like a stone in water. That’s what it felt like when she touched me. Like I was drowning in the calmest, warmest water, and all I wanted was to drift deeper. To get lost in her, to hand myself over to her.
I don’t hand myself over to anyone. Not a man, not a woman, not even a modern-day damsel in distress who looks as pure as the freshly fallen snow. Who I dream about, who I fantasize about, who, if I was any other sucker, would do anything for.
A hate-fuck is about all I’m capable of when it comes to Kira Kendrick. It’s all I can offer, and all I was prepared to offer – payback for my fleeing father — until she got her hands on me.
Now I don’t know what to do around her, except keep my damn distance.
“Ky.” Kira bangs on the bathroom door. “Ky, I’m going to be late.”
“Keep your panties on. I’ll be out in a sec,” I bark. I’m not nice, and I don’t even attempt to be. I’m just trying to survive the next three weeks.
I let the water run for several more minutes just to piss Kira off. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll hate me more than she can even believe possible. Then she and my father, and his perfect little wife, can live happily ever after and never have to think about me again. Which is exactly how I prefer it.
Once I’m out of the shower, I throw on a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and do a quick towel dry of my hair.
“Ky, c’mon, my professor won’t let me in if I’m late!” Her voice carries up the stairs. This spurs me to move a little faster. Not because I don’t want Kira to be late, but because if she is, and that’s true, I’m stuck with her for the night. Can’t happen. I’ve got plans.
I slide my rings on, grab my keys, and put a little more quickness into my step.
