Page 30 of Glitter Rose
“What is the point then?”
“The point is—” He cradles my hand between both of his, warm and calloused. “I hurt you. Didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Not an excuse.”
My skin feels too tight, too sensitive where he touches me.
His breath ghosts over my skin. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” I risk a glance at him. His focus remains on my wrist, his brow furrowed. “I’ll live.”
“I’m sorry, Paris.” He says my name like it means something, and god help me, I want it to.
“For grabbing my wrist or for yelling at me about the supply run?”
His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Both.”
My heart races like I’m hanging off the side of a building.
In another scenario, I probably wouldn’t mind the grabbing.
“My mom used to do this.” He lifts my wrist to his lips and presses a gentle kiss against the red marks his fingers left. “Said kisses make everything better.”
Electricity races up my arm, short-circuiting the last of my brain function.
“Did it work?” I manage, voice embarrassingly breathy.
“Never.” His eyes lock onto mine. “But I liked the attention.”
“Well, I’m not feeling better either.” I’m feeling something, but ‘better’ isn’t the word.
“No?”
“Maybe you need to try harder.”
A smirk forms on his lips. “Is that right?”
“For science.”
He kisses my wrist again, slower this time, his lips lingering, and my skin buzzing.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“Getting there.”
His eyes never leave mine as he turns my arm, pressing another kiss to my palm. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.” No. Wait! I stand abruptly, wrenching my arm free. His intensity is too much, like staring at the sun, and the warmth lingering like a ghost that haunts you until the rest of your life… and in the afterlife. “I’m going to make porridge. You hungry?”
His gaze follows me. “Starving.”
EIGHT
KNOX
Another day or two or three, maybe four.
