Page 111 of Midnights
He stops and clenches his jaw.
I don’t fill the silence just because it’s there. I'm not doing that shit anymore. Instead, I stare him down, waiting for him to finish his damn sentence.
“I just didn’t think that ye’d come outside, I guess.” His hand flexes at his side, before curling back into a fist.
I lift a brow. “Oh, so you didn’t think I’d come outside because I’m a girl and might get dirty?”
I wave a hand down my body at my soaked clothes and my mud-smeared legs. Walking disaster, right here.
“Hate to break it to you, but I think I’ve already crossed that bridge.”
His gaze drags down over my bare, muddy feet, before crawling back up again.
I catch the flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and damn him, because it’s doing more damage to my resolve than anything else he could say.
There's curiosity in his eyes now, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“Probably because it's the middle of the night, in a place ye don't know, in a country ye’re not from, and it's—” he cuts a hand toward the storm-filled sky. “Well,this.”
His voice drips with frustration as he runs his hand through his hair, that's now messy and wild from the rain. Droplets cling to the strands as they tumble over his forehead. The gesture is careless, yet entirely him.
And just when I think he’s about to walk away, something shifts. His expression hardens in a way that steals the air from my lungs.
It’s that look again, the one that sends a shiver racing down my spine, pooling low in my stomach.
His eyes pierce through me, but beneath it, I can feel his restraint. And somehow, that’s more dangerous than the storm around us.
The air crackles with tension that has nothing to do with the lightning overhead.
I watch his chest rise and fall in a way that tells me exactly how hard he’s working to stay in control. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn't need to. But his eyes drag over me like a physical touch, unraveling something inside me that I don’t fully understand.
My skin hums with awareness under the weight of it. And as much as I hate myself for it… it turns me on. It’s like Niagara fucking Falls with him.
“I didn’t think about anyof those things, if you want to know the truth,” I admit quietly, rolling my eyes to cover the unease creeping in. My arms drop to my sides, no longer a defensive shield between us and I look away, trying to ignore everything that's happening.
“I just needed to be outside.”
The admission feels like a mistake the second it leaves my lips. It’s tooopen. Too raw. And I hate that I feel the need to explain myself to him. But it’s too late to take it back now.
I force myself to meet his gaze again, hoping my face doesn’t betray the storm raging inside me. A storm he seems to have complete control over right now.
He pushes the rain-soaked hair off his forehead, and for a second I see something real. Then it's gone, replaced by that damn mask.
Then he’s right there, towering over me.
He’s too close. And not close enough.
Tension rolls off him in waves, crashing against me, mingling with the storm’s wild electricity. My skin prickles, making every hair on my arms stand up and I’ve never wanted anything more than I want him right now.
He brushes my cheek, light enough I could pretend it never happened—if only my pulse wasn't screaming otherwise.
“I am out here, Princess.” His voice is rough silk, threaded with amusement. “Because I was worried that you might be…” He pauses and his lips twitch like he’s one second away from laughing at me. “Out here, minding your own business, enjoying your holiday, and then, out of nowhere, the ground attacks you.”
Smug. Cocky. Bastard.
“You know, twist your ankle or something princess-like.”
I arch a brow, refusing to let him have the upper hand. Kane, the ever brooding, infuriating Highlander, who always looks like he's one bad mood away from breaking someone’s face, is rambling.
