When he doesn’t look to be moving from the chair he’s on in the kitchen, his phone in his hand, I end up asking the question that has been burning my throat since he made me come in the middle of a show. Literally. “Why touch me like that at the show?” The words fall out of my mouth without any thought of catching them and shoving them back inside.
He tilts his head. “Because I fucking wanted to.” The longer he stares at me, the harder it is for me to look away. “Come here.”
I pull my eyes off him.
“Stop fucking doing that, Dove.”
“Doing what?” I ask, allowing myself to get lost in him again.
“Looking away from me. Come. Here.”
“Come where?” I counter, looking around the table. King is bad for every girl walking this planet. He has a face that is crafted to perfection, with a body built from steel, but that’s not why he’s poison. He’s everything you were instilled to fear as a little girl. He’s your father’s worst nightmare and your mother’s wet dream. He carries himself with confidence and danger. His felonious smirk is one thing, but the way his eyes dismiss you is another. King is exactly like Lion, only worse. So, so, so much worse. Because even after two years of dating Lion, I never felt with him the way I feel while being around King. Because even if Lion was a cold bastard, he would never have done anything to truly hurt me. And that scares me, that King already makes me feel vulnerable. You can’t have feelings for a corpse. They don’t feel back.
King shuffles in his seat, spreading his knees wide. His eyes, again, remain cool, but his mouth twitches on the corner.
I look down to his lap, and then look back up to his face. I don’t trust him or the game he’s playing, but I find my feet moving anyway. And it’s not because of some creepy mind game they all like to do; it’s because underneath the cement of trust issues I have, especially when it comes to The Brothers, I want to know what he wants. And maybe that makes me dumb as fuck.
I’m standing directly in front of him when he tilts his head and stares back up at me. Killian is blasting “Deuces” from Chris Brown, which I’m thankful for because it drowns out the bad decisions I’m thinking about making.
His fingers come to mine, and he yanks me down until I’m on his lap.
I turn in his grip until his face is directly in front of mine. “What are you doing?”
“Does it matter?”
“Ah. Yes?”
His lips come to mine. His tongue dips into my mouth and fills the pit of my belly with lava, using my organs as a mixer. Deadly, but warm. Slowly, I open wider for him, running the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip. Well, Killian did ask to see if he would kiss me…
A chuckle breaks out behind me, and I go to pull away, knowing that we’ve been caught. Only King’s hand flies to the back of my neck to hold me there. He deepens the kiss, so I wrap my arms around his neck.
Kyrin is sitting at the table, texting on his phone, like what just happened didn’t surprise him. I’m guessing not much does.
“King!” Keaton calls out from the top of the stairs behind me.
Kingston takes his eyes away from me as they go up to where Keaton is. He taps my leg, and I swing off him, brushing my hair out of my face. I try to ignore how the blood rushing around my insides is making my ears throb, but it’s a little hard when his kisses are like heroin, taking hold of my control and smashing it to itty bitty pieces. King says nothing as he disappears upstairs, taking my pride with him.
I can’t believe I kissed him. I can’t blame it on the hype of the environment either. I was stone-cold sober and normal.
“Don’t get too excited,” Kyrin says. His tone is bored, his eyes never moving up from his phone. It’s probably the most Kyrin has ever said to me.
“I’m not.”
Finally, he lifts his eyes to mine. Kyrin’s features are as sharp as a samurai sword. He’s almost too pretty to be human. His eyelashes are so black and thick that it looks like he’s always wearing eyeliner and mascara. But he’s scary. “King never does anything without a reason, much less a girl. Like you. And no offense,” his eyes go up and down my body, making me squirm in self-consciousness, “but you’re not his usual type.”
“Correction,” Killian calls out from the front. “He doesn’t have a type.”
I shuffle away from Kyrin. He goes back to doing whatever it was that he was doing, and I make my way to the front of the RV, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Don’t take anything that Ky says personally. He doesn’t have good people skills.”
“I figured that out. Are you the outcast Brother?” I joke, putting my feet onto the dash and embracing the afternoon sun that’s warming my skin.
Killian laughs. “I’ve been told that many times.”
“So, what’s the deal with the whole Brothers of Kiznitch thing?” I finally ask the question that’s been poking around in my brain since finding out.
Killian doesn’t answer, and for a second, I don’t think he’s going to, until he simply says, “It’s a long story.”
I let the silence settle around us. I like silence. I need to be able to sit in silence with people, and if I can’t, then I can’t be around those people. Silence is the most underrated sound. “What Kyrin meant to say was that King doesn’t do the whole exclusivity thing. If you’re with him, you have to know that he’s never fully yours.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “We kissed.” I play it off as if it’s nothing, ignoring my heart beating in my chest and my stomach curling.
“Yeah, it shocked me because King doesn’t kiss. Ever.” Killian snorts. “And that was a kiss that was hot enough to be turned into porn.” My eyes fly up to the rearview mirror and then go back to the road. “Just know that he’s never had a girlfriend. Ever. There will never be a girlfriend as far as King goes. As long as you’re cool with that, then you’re good.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I swallow past the boulder in my throat. I’m a damn masochist because the pain that comes with this knowledge doesn’t stop me from asking questions, knowing that the answers are going to hurt me.
He shrugs. “Is it hard to believe that I don’t want you to get hurt?”
“Yes,” I answer instantly. “Because you guys had me locked in a cell for a whole week. So yeah, it does.”
Killian laughs. “Well, you remember that next time you have your tongue down the devil’s throat.” He chuckles. “All things sinister taste like honey.”
I sigh, resting my head on the back of the chair. I silently vow to myself that I won’t kiss King again.
We’re in Texas and the location crew has already started setting up the equipment. We got in late last night, and, somehow, between us arriving, sleeping, and waking, the crew has already partially set up the monstrous tent. Texas is hot. So hot that I can barely damn well breathe, so I’m making my way through the RV in my sports bra and little shorts. Sweat is pouring out of my flesh everywhere, and if something doesn’t cool me down fast, I think I might die. The front door swings open, and King is standing there shirtless with cotton shorts on that hang nicely off his hips. His hair is in disarray all over his head and sweat slicks over his muscled torso.