I inhaled deeply, the scent of him, leather and sea salt, sinking into my nostrils. Gritty and masculine.
“They were covered with water,” he grunted in explanation.
From the rain.
“Oh, I didn’t realize… thank you.” I blinked several times, feeling my face redden again. “You know, if I were a sea star, I could just grow a new pair of eyes.” My throat bobbed, afraid he was going to move back at any moment, so I kept talking, hoping I could distract him to stay a little longer. “That’s their other fascinating characteristic; they can regenerate themselves. Like Stuart.”
“Stuart?”
I went to the desk, grabbing the saltwater container that held the mangled, three-legged sea star inside. “Stuart.” I pushed the container in his direction, forcing him to take it.
“You named a sea star?”
“Of course.” My smile faltered when his eyes dropped to my mouth, and I realized how close we were. Warm tingles began to shoot over my skin. Was it a warning?Or something else?I wasn’t thinking when I’d walked up to him; I’d just wanted to show him the jar. But now… now, there was no counter between us, only a few perilous inches. “I found him last week. You see how he’s missing two arms,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear the quiver in my voice as I pointed to the nodes where the limbs had been torn off. “He’ll regrow those arms over time.”
“That’s convenient,” he said hoarsely, his eyes stuck on my mouth.
So, I kept talking.
“Actually, depending on which arm is severed, the organism could regenerate the rest of its entire body just from a single piece.” I reached out and took one of his hands in mine, lifting it up between us. “Can you imagine? Growing a whole new body—all your organs and systems and parts—from just your hand?”
I caught his eyes, and my heart swan-dived into my stomach.Oh no.Why didn’t I think around him? Why did I just go and do and say andtouchwithout a moment of hesitation? Where exactly did my brain go when he was around?
Because it certainly wasn’t here to do its job—to warn me away from his boundaries.To stop me from touching him.
Everything registered at once. The heat of his skin. The size of his hand—it was massive compared to mine; I had to use both my hands to hold his fingers wide. And to think about holding his hand… his palm would swallow mine up. But it was the roughness in his gaze that made my breath hitch. It traveled down my cheek, along my neck, my arms, and finally to where we touched.
I swallowed hard, my fingers inching toward the breaks in his as though we were two puzzle pieces I needed to try and fit.
“It wouldn’t have to be a hand,” I murmured, unable to stop my gaze from roaming every inch of his face. I didn’t know if I was moving or if he was, but we were getting closer. We were definitely getting closer. “It could be a foot. Or a nose. Or a mouth.”
He jolted. His focus burned the skin of my lips with its intensity. He wanted to kiss me. The way he looked at me. The flare of his nostrils. The rough nature of his warm breaths. He wanted to kiss me, and I felt it all the way in the marrow of my bones because I wanted to kiss him, too.
And I’d never wanted to kiss someone before, not like this.
I had, of course, kissed men before for experimental purposes. Ten times, to be exact, because I didn’t want my research to falter on a poor sample size. Initially, I was curious what happened. When I was in high school—middle school, even—girls in my class were always giggling over kissing boys.Making out. Seven minutes in heaven.I never felt the same, so I buried my head in books and figured one day I’d feel that same urge. When I got to college without having the inclination, I decided to take matters into my own hands and did what any good scientist would do: I experimented.
After the first five kisses proved lackluster, I tried five more because I thought I had to be missing something.In the end, I determined I was.Missing something, that is.I was missing whatever part that made most women enjoy it—or want more.
Or I thought I was, until this moment.
I hadn’t even kissed him, but I already knew Kit would be different. It wouldn’t be an experiment, it would be an explosion. Unstoppable. Consuming. Life-altering.
“Kit…” I breathed out, realizing my mistake too late.
The haze in his eyes cleared, their black pits darkening furiously as he tugged his hand away and straightened, Stuart’s container hitting the counter with a thud.
“Shit,” he muttered, the word so low under his breath I was surprised I could hear it with the rain beating against the windows.
What was I doing? Taking his hand? Thinking he wanted to kiss me?
Calling him by his name?
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, binding my arms over my chest, which only made him back up even farther until he collided with the counter behind him. “I was at the Maine Squeeze this morning, and I met your sister, Lou…” I trailed off, hoping it was obvious how I’d come by the personal information.
“Oh yeah?” he grunted and turned to face the sink, whipping on the faucet and washing his hands like he was desperate to scrub my touch from his skin.
Rude.
