Love isn't supposed to be an addiction. It isn't supposed to leave you bleeding.
Kona pushed, Keira pulled, and in their wake, they left behind destruction.
She sacrificed everything for him.
It wasn't enough.
But the wounds of the past can never be completely forgotten and still the flame remains, slumbers between the pleasure of yesterday and the thought of what might have been.
Now, sixteen years later, Keira returns home to bury the mother who betrayed her, just as Kona tries to hold onto what remains of his NFL career with the New Orleans Steamers. Across the crowded bustle of a busy French Market, their paths collide, conjuring forgotten memories of a consuming touch, skin on skin, and the still smoldering fire that begs to be rekindled.
When Kona realizes the trifecta of betrayal--his, Keira's and those lies told to keep them apart--his life is irrevocably changed and he once again takes Keira down with him into the fire that threatens to ignite them both.
Kona killed the engine but left the battery running and the music changed, pumped Jodeci’s “Feenin’” into the cab. Keira blushed, and stared out her window as the lyrics danced between them. Baby making music always made her happy.
She could feel Kona watching her. His body was so large and as his elbow rested on the console between them, that massive presence palpable, invading her space. There was sensory overload working in that car—the heat of Kona’s body pumping toward her, the smell of his skin, the slow, sensual beat of the baseline in the song—she felt it all like a vibration to her senses and without saying a word, without even touching her, Kona Hale had Keira crossing her legs, hoping that sweet throb in her center would ease.
“Wildcat?” he said, voice tickling right against her neck.
She turned her head, let it rest against the seat and Kona was there, just there, with his lips close enough to touch. All she had to do was lift her chin, take what he was offering.
“Last night, at Nathan’s?” She nodded, letting a slow blink bring back those intense minutes in the hallway. “That…that kind of shit usually doesn’t do it for me. Know what I’m sayin’?”
She knew what he meant. There had been anger and resentment and an overabundance of reaction. She couldn’t explain what that was, what had her lashing out and liking it, but Keira couldn’t deny what it had done to her body.
“That was a first for me too.”
Kona’s head dipped, just once and the long stare he gave her heightened Keira’s already sensitive nerves. He moved in closer, one finger brushing across her forehead and his eyes followed the movement as though he loved the way her hair fell against her skin, how it felt between his knuckles.
“I want to try something.” Those long fingers smoothed down her face until Kona held her cheek in his hand. “I want to see if that was some fluke.”
“You want me to slap you again?” His expression relaxed her, had her shifting her shoulders deeper onto the seat.
“No. I wanna try soft with you. I wanna try sweet, to see if it’s the same, if it does the same thing to me.”
She couldn’t help herself. “What did it do to you, Kona?”
Keira loved the way his eyes shifted up, how a deep, hypnotizing groan vibrated in his throat as though just the thought of his body’s reaction to her had him aching. He moved in, a fraction of a lean, mouth nearly touching hers. “It made me want to go slow.” He kissed her then, just a peck that lingered before he pulled away. “And fast.” Another kiss, this one longer than the last. “It made me think I could only breathe if I was inside you.”
And then, Keira’s own throat vibrated with a groan, a slow working sound that lifted up, caught as Kona’s tongue, warm and deliciously wet, slid against hers. There was so much power, so much tenderness in every touch he gave her; a shuttering throb of sensation, of heat that made Keira lightheaded. He was demanding and for once Keira didn’t let the fear of being controlled scare her. For once, she just gave in and let Kona guide her, work in her something real and raw.
She felt Kona’s breath rising, hot and heavy against her cheek and loved that her fingers on his neck, pulling him deeper, had him moving faster, still slow, still calm, but desperate enough that his breathing became frantic, that his hands on her face, in her hair, shook.
She wanted this. Him. Her. Their touch, the magic in every brush of his fingers, the glide of his tongue, with her always. It was needy, desperate and she loved the white hot craving of him, of how her body reacted to him, how her heart hammered hard like an earthquake.
They kissed and touched—his mouth on her neck sucking, nibbling, her fingers in his hair, her teeth biting his ear—and before Keira even realized what was happening, the windows fogged over, advertising to anyone watching what was happening in that Camaro. And then, a loud bang on the hood and Keira’s eyes opened and Kona’s happy moan turned into a grunt of frustration at whatever jackass it was that had interrupted them as a joke, laughing ringing in their hasty retreat.
Kona sat back, sweat dotting his forehead, and Keira blinked, shot up in the seat and grabbed the door handle.
“Wait.” Kona leaned across the seat covering her hand to stop her from leaving. “Where are you going?”
His frown was almost funny, but the rounding of his eyes told Keira that her leaving that car would undo him. She twisted her wrist so that she could hold his fingers and then brushed that massive hand aside. “I’m going to my room, Kona.” She got out of the car and he sat staring at her, frown deeper, forehead wrinkled with tension. Keira bent down once she was out of the car, leaning forward to watch him, gaze moving down his body, then right back at his panicked expression. “You coming or not?”
Copyright © 2014 Eden Butler