His eyes lock onto mine as he sucks some more, andfuckthere’s something really arousing and erotic about watching himsuck my blood out. I mean, I know he’s sucking the splinter, but… it feelsintimatein a way I can’t quite explain.
His lips are warm against my skin, and the pull of his mouth, gentle but deliberate, sends a strange, electric thrill through me.
It shouldn’t feel like this. His mouth shouldn’t feel this deliberate, like he’s taking his time, tasting me. I want to believe it’s my imagination—some twisted projection—but I see it in the way his eyes flick up to mine, unreadable and steady. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
There’s something about it that goes beyond the act itself—this is Kai, the guy I once knew so well, the guy I used to bein love with,now impossibly close again, his breath ghosting over my hand. Vulnerability hangs between us, thicker than the tension.
It’s not just about the splinter anymore; it’s the raw closeness of it, the kind you don’t plan for, the kind that leaves you exposed in more ways than one.
And this is the second time I’ve been in this situation with him.
His eyes don’t leave mine, and instead of pulling away, he scoots closer to place his other hand on my arm. It’s disorienting, having him so close, and it stirs something old and familiar, something I’ve long buried. My pulse quickens, not from the pain, but from the way his touch feels—how easy it is to let him take care of me, even after all these years. There’s trust in it, but also something charged, something we’ve never fully addressed but always felt.
Or, something I’ve always felt, at least.
That same sort of explosive feeling that happened the first time we kissed.
His lips pull off my hand, and he holds it up with a satisfied smirk, but I barely notice.
My eyes are locked on his lips—bloodied from my wound, swollen from sucking on my skin. He looks almost wild, a little unhinged, with his dark hair falling messily over his forehead and the rough shadow of his short scruff catching the light. His angular jaw is sharp, accentuating his striking features, and those deep, intense eyes—light gray with flecks of silver—seem to burn as they meet mine. His expression glimmers with some kind of dark promise I can’t quite infer—like someone on the edge of giving into his primal needs—and it sends a shiver down my spine.
For a second, I forget to breathe. I’m transfixed, caught between the rawness of the moment and the heat that lingers between us. It feels like he can read my mind but isn’t going to say a word. His lips pull up into that knowing smirk again, and it’s unsettling how badly I want him to stay this close.
Fuck.
I thought I could do this, but I really, really can’t.
Not now—not when I have Sophie.
I stand up and adjust my erection before he can see.
It’s nothing. It’s just the adrenaline. Or the blood loss. Or maybe I haven’t jerked off in a few days.
That’s all this is.
He stands and takes a step back just as Sophie walks into the bedroom with tweezers.
“I got it,” I tell her, showing her my hand.
“That’s a relief,” she says, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Are you feeling okay?”
I nod once and run my good hand through my hair. “Yeah.” I kiss her on the forehead. “I need to go clean my hand. And then I forgot I have a client meeting at two,” I tell her, feeling instantly guilty for lying.
“Okay, babe.” She looks at Kai. “Guess you’re stuck with me again. How well can you mix wallpaper paste?”
Kai laughs, and when I look over my shoulder at him, he’s still looking at me with that darkened expression.
“I can figure it out,” he says, breaking eye contact before giving her a warm smile.
Walking down the hall to the guest bathroom, I remove my old T-shirt with shaking hands. First the blood and then what happened with Kai… I need a minute to get my bearings.
Closing the door, I step out of my clothes and lean against the small vanity. Looking up into the mirror, I stare at myself.
What the hell was that?
After running a hand down my face, I turn the shower on and step inside.
I’m still hard.
