Page 162 of Kiss the Villain

“No…no…don’t…touch…”

I’ve always seen him as invincible, indestructible. But right now? He looks vulnerable. Just human. And it makes something shift deep inside me.

A need to protect him from whatever nightmare has him trapped.

For the first time, I take his big hand in mine, stroking the veins on the back. “How did you even get so sick? Were you walking in the rain again? What’s the point of having a car if you won’t use it, idiot?”

Slowly, I brush the strands of damp hair away from his face. Sick people shouldn’t look this hot. Just saying.

He was coughing the other day after coming back from a short trip to his dad’s firm in the States. And, yeah, he’s been using the glasses more—not that I’m complaining—but this is the first time I’ve seen him like this.

Well, aside from that one time when his moms were here.

“I’ll go buy you some meds,” I say, starting to get up, but his fingers tighten around mine.

“Don’t…go…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur, stroking his hand again. Weirdly, it feels natural, like I should be doing it more often. “You’ll never get rid of me, Kayde. Remember?”

He doesn’t reply, but his grip relaxes, and I peel his hand away, then I place a cool, wet rag on his forehead.

After telling Moka to hold down the fort, I drive to a night pharmacy and come back with a bag full of meds—and some English porridge.

When I return, Kayden’s still burning up, and Moka’s curled by his head, purring away.

“You feel bad for him, too?” I scratch under her chin before focusing on him.

He’s so out of it, I have to sit him up and carefully pour the medicine into his mouth. Then, noticing the drenched sheets, I wrestle his ridiculously huge body to lay a clean blanket underneath and swap out the duvet.

I wipe him down to cool him off, which would be easier if his cock didn’t thicken beneath my touch.

Seriously? Sickanda tease?

It takes all my self-control to cover him up and stop looking.

Finally, I lie beside him, keeping an eye on his fever throughout the night, with Moka offering her emotional support in the form of soothing purrs.

At some point, I must fall asleep, because I wake up to something hard pressing against my ass and heavy arms wrapped snugly around my waist.

My own cock swells against my shorts, and I groan when his crown presses against the thin fabric and slips between the crack of my ass.

Let’s just say I’m not wearing anything beneath the shorts—his influence. No shirt either. Again, thanks to him. He’s always walking around half naked, so I might have picked up the habit.

His fingers find my nipple, pinching and rubbing as his face buries into my nape, his lips sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

“I missed you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

I’m so turned on and disoriented that all I manage is a strangled moan.

“I love how you’re pushing back into my cock. Mmm.” His teeth graze my nape, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to mark you, to breed you.”

My throat dries, and I strain to look at him, catching the glassy haze in his eyes. The clock reads four in the morning, and the heat radiating from him confirms he’s still feverish.

“You’re speaking nonsense,” I mutter, trying to pull away despite the fire he’s ignited inside me. “Just go to sleep.”

“I’ve never been more serious. I want to own you, to chain you to me,” he whispers, nibbling on my ear. “You can’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

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