In my chest, my ribs struggled to contain my rippling lungs. “Why? Why would you stop him, but not care if... if Jacob...”
“Shit,” he said, the out burst of a man who'd walked into a trap. There were goosebumps on my skin from the chilly air. Kite's palms came down on my upper arms, adding to the array. “Marina, I'm not jealous of Jacob. I'm never going to be. I trust him with my life, with everything.” The night sky framed his face, his features sharp as blades. “But I am fucking jealous of every other single man on this planet who would dare to flirt with you. If I see them try, I'll stop them again and again. I'm sorry that it sounds hypocritical, but that's how it is.”
I felt his voice in my marrow. If I leaned forward, I could put my forehead on his chest. How would that feel? “I don't want strangers to flirt with me,” I whispered. “I shouldn't... I shouldn't let you do it, either. Or Jacob.”
His mouth came down, but it didn't kiss me.
Kite hovered, his nose on mine, his breath sweet with wine. It left me wavering. “You shouldn't, and we shouldn't be getting wrapped up in you, either. Guess we're all just weak, aren't we?”
Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to breathe in the clean air. All I found was more of Kite. “Maybe you're weak,” I mumbled. “But I'm not.” I heard him chuckle, but then my head was all rushing blood and atomic bombs as I swept my lips over his.
I wanted him. More than anything, I wanted this man. He looked and tasted amazing. How was I still holding the wine glass? How was I still standing, for that matter?
We lingered like that, and might have stayed, if Kite didn't pull away. He left a gorge in me when he did, my thighs shaking with instant desire.
“Let's go inside,” he said. I saw the fire in his stare, and the way he adjusted the bulge in his pants wasn't subtle. The sight of it was a wicked tease.
“Alright. Yeah. We should... probably chill out a bit.”
Kite flicked his attention down, and I followed, noticing the hard shapes of my nipples outlined through my bra and dress. His raspy groan sent lightning to my lower belly. “Chill out. Right. Let's get some more drinks, then.”
I didn't need alcohol.
I was drunk on his heat and adrenaline already.
- Chapter 20 -
Marina
––––––––
I had two glasses of wine in me and music in my blood.
One of the wide rooms in the museum has been converted into a dance floor. The lights were dimmed, the music surprisingly good for what I considered a stuffy event. I still had no clue what the charity was for.
They'd announced the names of the major benefactors, a number of them anonymous. People had clapped, I had drank, and not once had Kite left my side. I still had no clue where Jacob was.
Finishing my recent drink, I went to look for more when Kite hooked his arm around me. “What are you doing?” I asked, twisting to face him.
He aided me in that, yanking me firmly against his chest. “I think it's called dancing,” he teased. Scooping up my fingers, he led me deeper into the crowd.
“I'm not a very good dancer,” I laughed, caught up in Kite's impossible to shatter grin. He was always so proud of himself, so coy and amused. The part of him that was fast—fast enough to kill in broad daylight—had faded in my mind.
He made it easy to forget.
“Dancing isn't hard.” Scraping his way down to my middle, he held me like I was going to fly through the roof any second. That sensation had me burning, and then he pushed it by squeezing my hips. I gasped, and he just leaned closer.
Kite slid against me, rocking his body in a gentle wave. He had rhythm in his blood, and I would have struggled to keep up with him on a good day. He was kind enough to take control; a hand on the middle of my back, one rolling to touch the outside of my thigh.
He knew what he was doing, every move intentional.
I think I said... something. The music was taking over where his sensations didn't.
I lost track of where I was, focusing solely on the growing heat between us.
He spun me, pushing his weight against my soft ass. A hand curled down my belly, forcing me to back into him to grind on his growing erection. This was filthy dancing meant for late night clubs, not pristine museums.
Neither of us cared at all.
He kissed the side of my neck, I closed my eyes. We moved together, my body catching onto his wavelength. I rocked with him—against him—and wanted so much more.
He blew in my ear, his stubble on my cheek. “Marina,” he purred. “I think we have an audience.”
Flooding with guilt, my eyes flew open. I expected to see stunned faces, disapproving glares. All around us, bodies swayed and danced.
Only one man was staring.
Jacob stepped forward, shrinking the gap until his hands were on mine. His tug was gentle; I felt Kite slipping away. “May I have a turn?” he asked, a question that wasn't really a question.