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Sometimes, being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined
His office should have been a safe haven and now he felt like drowning again. It took everything he had not to step back, not to turn away from Inej pressing her lips against his in that insistent way of hers. He managed another brush of lips without feeling the urge to vomit.
It was a win, he supposed.
Without consciously deciding to, his hands rested on her arms. They were still gloved and he saw her frown at the leather touching her skin. Since she didn’t ask him to remove them, he kept them on, a small safety net in the sea that was Inej. When her tongue touched his lip and his jaw fell open, he moved closer. Involuntarily, his body acted without his permission and his hips jerked forward. He instantly knew, he had done something wrong, felt embarrassed and sick all the same when he watched her stumble away, shoving him back.
“I can’t- you can’t lie on top of me,” she searched his face as if convinced he would be annoyed at that before adding “ever”. Not that they had been, but he saw the resemblance of their position now to what she was referring to. He supposed, she would never be comfortable with him boxing her in, and for good reason. Never would he blame her for not wanting something.
“That won’t be a problem.” He hoped the self-deprecation didn’t show, but knowing Inej and seeing her brow furrow, it had. Clearly.
“Your leg…” she didn’t phrase it as a question, rather like a statement and he was grateful she spared him the humiliation of having to confirm.
Cripple, a nasty voice piped up in his head.
His entire body was damaged all over, not one bone intact. Loathing hit with strangling force and he bit down hard on his lip to keep his mouth shut. What did she even see when she looked at him? An experiment? A charity case? Someone to be toyed with?
He knew, in his bones, that she wasn’t cruel, not to him anyway.
But doubt – powerful as ever – remained firmly etched into his brain.
The night didn’t scare him. Hadn’t for a long time.
What did scare him – made him nervous – was Inej, perched on his window and looking at him with more than a determined glint in her eyes. Desire, if he read it correctly. And that was something, he couldn't deal with, as ridiculous as it sounded.
He hadn’t seen her for a week, constantly wondering where she was, despite knowing, he should concentrate on business. She moved fluidly towards him, silhouette illuminated by the moonlight shining through his window. The closer she got, the more naked he felt, resisting the urge to draw his shirt close. He had unbuttoned it already, his vest discarded over his chair. Now, he regretted his decision to pull off his gloves early in the evening.
His fingers twitched by his sides, an involuntary reaction Inej noticed.
“Put them on,” she whispered, like she knew, like his struggle was so blatantly obvious to her. Perhaps, it was.
“I thought about it” Inej said, watching him while his back was turned to her, “I thought about it so that I know what I can tolerate and what makes my skin crawl.”
Hearing her admit that she had thought about this as much as he had made him feel slightly less stupid about the whole affair. He realised, he still hadn’t talked to her, hadn’t said one damn word since he had spotted her. Yet, his tongue sat heavily in his mouth and he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. She looked at him, out of those deep, dark eyes, a shimmer of uncertainty passing in between them, before she shifted back.
“I want to try again,” she said.
“What are you saying?” he couldn’t help his voice dropping low. He didn’t know what to make of her statement, felt a nervous flutter in his chest.
“That I want this to work. I want us to try…” she paused, beckoned him over until they were face to face, “until we succeed.”
She had a way with words tonight that made him question whom she had asked for advice. Nina probably.
“What if we don’t?” he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. Even voicing it in his head made him itch to turn tail and hide somewhere no one would fine. He had beaten grater odds, and yet, this game was one, he couldn’t bear to lose.
“We won’t,” Inej said and he wished for her confidence. A voice in his head wanted to know, how she was so sure when he had none of that faith. But then again, Inej had always had more faith.
In her Gods.
In his crew.
In him.
“How can you say that?” Asking such a question hurt more than he would have liked to admit. Perhaps, it was because it showed weakness he had fought day-in and day-out to let no one see.
“Because Dirtyhands taught me well,” she smiled around the name like greeting an old friend. A part of him felt at peace, knowing, he hadn’t fully corrupted her, hadn’t ruined her beyond salvation. She was still Inej, still herself, despite his pushing her to be better, smarter, faster. And she wasn’t afraid.
Not of Kaz.
Not even of Dirtyhands.
“And if I learned anything from him, it was that if you can’t beat the odds…” she leaned in closer until her lips hovered over his, not touching yet, but almost.
“Change the game.”
A shiver wrecked his body, hearing his own words repeated back at him. An echo of a lifetime ago when he had been younger, less stable. That Kaz Brekker had cursed his way through losing a hand in a game with Jesper before he had remembered who he was. The bastard of the barrel didn’t lose.
Not to anyone.
One look at Inej, though, and he was tempted to rethink that statement.
Kaz Brekker would gladly lose.
But only if it was to her.
The ceiling looked different from here, Kaz mused. He had never quite paid attention to it, but now he was. Maybe, because Inej was straddling his thighs with both of them fully dressed and the light hit her just the right way for the ceiling to look like the sky surrounding an angel. He would have cringed at the comparison if she weren’t smiling down at him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Like she was at ease, comfortable.
“Do you-” she breathed, almost like she didn’t want to disrupt him in his reverie. He wondered, briefly, if she knew. If she was aware of how deeply his feelings for her were rooted. A part of him hoped, she didn’t.
“Do you like this?” she asked, a delicate blush starting to spread on her cheeks. He would have found it adorable if not for the way his own cheeks had been burning for the last thirty minutes.
“I- I don’t know,” he admitted. While he liked the way she looked, he wasn’t sure how he would feel if no clothes separated their bodies, if the lapping of water at his ankles would come back then. Right now, he did not think so but the chance remained.
She didn’t seem disappointed, merely curious.
Leaning forward until they were almost on one level, she asked “Maybe… you should find out…”
“Find out?” he croaked, confused as to what she meant. Weren’t they finding out right now?
“If- if you would like it,” he saw her hesitate, biting her lip “at all.”
It took a minute to put it together, to understand the underlaying meaning of her words. When he did, his skin flushed hot and he looked away. It was a good point, though, he had to concede. After all, he wasn’t entirely sure, he would ever enjoy that kind of contact.
“How-” he had to clear his throat, feeling self-conscious and more like a boy his age than he would have liked. Even having to ask was a hit to his ego he couldn’t easily take. She blushed when the implication of his non-question registered fully. Without looking at him, she gestured at his office, towards his chair, although why the chair when they were currently laying on a mattress, he did not know.
Maybe, he should get a frame for the mattress? Wouldn’t that be classier? Should he care about that kind of thing?
Would she?
He instantly banished the thought from his head. This was way too early to consider getting a bed. For all he knew, Inej could turn from him, the second he realised, he really couldn’t have her like she deserved.
Without armour, she had said, or not at all.
What if she realised, it would be the latter?
Then, the idea of doing it in his chair, the one he had signed her contract in, the one he used to make the most important, official decisions to do that, hit him. He couldn’t quite suppress the shiver that ran through him when he pictured it. The thought alone had him breathing harshly through his nose.
He didn’t know how it could feel so dirty, so wrong and yet…
“You’ll come back?” he pressed out, forcing his mind out of the gutter.
“As soon as I have a solution to this,” she promised, an uptick playing around the edge of her lips. He wouldn’t deny that he wanted to kiss her right then.
If only he could.
The day had gone like every other, nothing to remark here. But the night, the night was different. Kaz sat in his chair, with the door locked at his back – twice for good measure and with a stool blocking it to prevent any sort of attempted break-in – and stared at the window. He had no idea, how he was supposed to do this. The very thought of undressing with the sole purpose of touching himself was unappealing to say the least.
He remembered then, an old saying which had somehow taken residence in his head ever since she had demanded change from him.
There’s more love in a dead man’s arms.
It hurt somewhere deep down inside him, somewhere he had worked hard to ignore ever since Jordie had died. Did Inej see it like that too? Did she know, he asked himself repeatedly, all the while staring at the window like that would make her appear out of nowhere? Did she know just how broken he was? That the kid who had miraculously saved himself hadn’t survived? At least, not truly?
Or did she just refuse to acknowledge it, clutching at his put-together image of Dirtyhands, the man who could turn every situation – not matter how dire – into a win?
He hoped – prayed – she didn’t. If he had a choice in the matter, any choice at all, he would prefer the truth. The prospect of having to dismantle her illusions about him, of proving to her, he was beyond saving, made him retch.
Don’t think about that, he reminded himself.
Not now.
Not while you’re doing this.
This – he harrumphed. It wasn’t like he was actually doing something. No, he kept staring at that damn window like it held all the answers.
Saints, he was pathetic, wasn’t he?
She could bear his hands on her. She could lean close and not want to vomit. She had been in the Menagerie and yet, her demons weren’t the problem in this. He was the problem. Him and his mind and his memories of bloated bodies and alarm bells ringing in his head.
He still counted on her demons making an appearance, but, for the moment, his were the only ones rearing their ugly heads.
Without his armour, she had insisted.
He truly didn’t know if he could. Whenever he thought about stripping down in front of her, in that context at least, his throat instantly closed up. The redundancy was not lost on him. How many times had he changed in front of her? How many times had she seen him practically naked before? Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t count the instances.
Back then, it hadn’t registered as vulnerability, as something he should be hesitant to do. After all, there was nothing to see there. He hadn’t even spared the action a thought, let alone more than one.
But now, now that she would actually look…
He shivered, his hands clenching around the armrest of his chair, gloves creaking at the strain. His knuckles – he suspected – would have been stark white if he could see them. He was secretly glad he couldn’t, not needing the visual reminder of his weakness.
Why is this so difficult?
Hell, Jesper did it all the time, according to all those late-night, drunken slurs Kaz had heard him sprout. Briefly, he entertained the idea of asking him but dismissed it just as quickly. If word got out Kaz Brekker couldn’t even do this, he would lose his reputation quicker than Dirtyhands picked a lock.
Alright. Take it slow.
He thought of Nina and her letters and how she had advised him to start over his trousers before actually touching his skin. It occurred to him, while he let his hands travel downwards, that this wasn’t normal. He felt so out of his element, it would have been entertaining if not for the sickening flutter of nerves in his stomach. Hesitating, he started out drawing circles over his thigh, not quite reaching what he should be just yet.
Think of her, he reminded himself forcefully.
Bits and pieces came to mind before he managed to conjure her in his lap, blinking up at him from those ridiculously deep eyes. He had always found them a mixture of inviting and dangerous.
Almost repelling.
When he had seen her that first night, something had lurked behind them, drawing him in and pushing him away simultaneously. He had been – well – intrigued, had sensed potential just waiting to be tapped into. Now, those eyes hadn’t lost their edge but the certainty of the danger within her made him feel deliciously powerless. Like there was someone, who would understand, someone who had to battle their dark side just like he did his. Without realising, his hands had strained towards his crotch, fingers itching to his waistband.
After taking another minute to collect himself and push away the feel of water cascading over his body, he stood. His fingers trembled more than he would have liked when they slipped against his belt. Before unbuckling it, he wiped them at his trousers, fully aware that wet skin would have him hunched over within seconds. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pushed down his pants, cursing when they caught around his knee. Finally, he managed to step out of them, grateful no one had been there to witness to this particular disaster.
Sitting back down again, he found himself staring at his lower body. What would Inej see when she looked at him? There were countless scars littering his skin and, for the first time in his life, he felt self-conscious about his appearance.
Stop, he scolded himself forcefully, stop it right now.
There was no sense in berating himself when he didn’t even know if there would ever come a time where Inej would undress him. Maybe, he wouldn’t even enjoy touching himself.
Only one way to find out.
Breathing harshly through his nose, he let his fingers rest on his thigh. For a moment, the small place of contact made his mind flush with images, he didn’t want to see. He fought to remain in the present. It took some time, but then, he could see his office clearly, without any water in sight.
Right.
Forcing himself to think of Inej and nothing but her, he leaned back, trying to relax. Her face came into view first, then her hair, he imagined loose and flowing, waiting for him to bury his hands in it. In his mind, he let his gaze wander. Her shoulders, with caramel skin and a low-cut blouse, showing just the hint of her breasts. He felt a stirring, heat pooling in his stomach and decided to stay there for a moment longer. He would open her blouse, he mused, let the silk fall to the floor. Her body would fit so well against his. His hand itched upwards on his thigh, closer, until he managed to wrap it around his cock.
A shockwave of panic and – what he slowly categorised as arousal – hit him. He almost let go of himself completely, but forced the panic down. For a minute, he focussed on breathing, the image of Inej, bare before him on his mind. He wanted to touch her, to trace down her middle until he reached her naval. She would let him, he realised. Longing took hold of him. Almost absentmindedly, he moved his hand up, hunching over when it made his skin tingle and that white-hot feeling flare in his chest. It was overwhelming and he couldn’t keep from making sounds.
He bit at his lip, relishing the sharp sting that came with it. His other hand cramped around the armrest, muscles in his arm screaming in protest at strain. Another image of Inej on top of him, still bare, her chest heaving in rhythm with his flashed through his mind. His hips jerked forward on their own accord. Sweat gathered on his forehead and his breath came fast. He had never felt like this, never thought, how good touching himself would be. Jesper’s words swirled in his head, of spreading a girl open, of tasting her until she cried out his name.
Kaz ached for the chance. He wanted to taste her, wished so desperately to know if her skin tasted like caramel too. He urged to bring her pleasure, to let her touch him the way he was now.
A sound threatened to make it past his tightly clenched mouth, but he swallowed it down in time. Another roll of his hips, another arch of his back, the backrest of the chair and unforgiving force against him. He had to turn his face into his shoulder to muffle his groans. The idea of someone hearing, maybe coming to check had his cheeks aflame.
He imagined how she would sit on top of him, how she would fuck him. The word alone had his skin tingling with need. His hips snapped up, chasing the friction of his hand. A dull burned spread from the base of his cock towards the tip and he realised, he had to be close. Covering his mouth with his hand, he sped up, chest heaving with the effort to stay still. She would hold onto his chest, he thought, would scratch it raw with her nails consumed with pleasure.
He would let her.
He would enjoy it.
She would ride him with his hands around her hips, holding her close. Her lips would search for his, captivating them just when he was about to topple over. He could almost see it before him when his eyes fell shut. The burning grew more insistent. His body felt aflame, like he was on fire with no relief whatsoever. His hand was a blur on his cock, grip so tight, it almost hurt.
For me, she whispered into his ear.
That was all it took. He gasped into his hand, body coiling in on itself. Wave after wave hit him, made his vision blank out and his teeth clack together. He trembled, holding onto his chair for fear of falling over. When the waves subside, he instantly got up, wobbly on his legs.
He needed to clean up, right this moment. Once in the bathroom, he chanced a look at himself in the mirror, afraid of what he might see. The fear was unnecessary, he decided promptly. The man he saw, he couldn’t quite find the words to describe.
He realised, he looked younger, less – well – less like the bastard he was. More like his age. His hair was damp and stood in all directions, his face was flushed and his eyes wide.
He looked wrecked.
And a part of him felt, he liked it.
Despite him brimming with energy to tell her as soon as he saw her of his exploring, he couldn’t. Because right now, he wasn’t Kaz Brekker. He was Dirtyhands, and Dirtyhands had a job to do. There would be time for discussing this later.
He met with the others on the decks. It rained heavily, drenching his coat to the point where he needed to breathe rhythmically to keep the memories at bay. Jesper seemed to notice, he wasn’t doing well and stepped closer, eyes focussed on Wylan like they were so often nowadays.
“Anything I need to know?” he asked and Kaz had the fleeting suspicion that Jesper was quite deliberately turned away to give him the illusion of not being the focus of his attention. Clever, Kaz had to admit, if he hadn’t figured out, it was a ruse.
“No,” he gave his gruff answer, not comfortable with talking about his nightly endeavours.
“Not what Inej told me.” Kaz reeled back like he had been slapped. Inej had talked about him to Jesper.
“Relax,” Jesper said once he realised what his words had set into motion, “she was perfectly vague about it.”
That made Kaz relax a fraction, however, his hand still clenched tightly around his cane.
“I figured, you two were a thing entirely on my own, no need to put this on her.”
“What-”
“Oh, come on. Like it was difficult.” Jesper rolled his eyes, entirely unfazed by the war in Kaz’ mind. Not that he didn’t want to confide in Jesper, one of his only friends on this earth, but he couldn’t. This was something he had trouble expressing even in his head, let alone out loud.
He cleared his throat, “ready?”
Nods all around.
“I want it grand, understood?” he turned to Wylan, already grinning.
“Sure thing,” the boy replied, sending a smile towards Jesper that was a little too flirty for Kaz’ taste. Although, he supposed, he looked at Inej the very same way. If not worse.
“Grand, hm?” Inej suddenly said, coming from Saint’s knew where. Kaz didn’t flinch but it was a close thing. He shouldn’t be surprised by her materialising out of thin air, but he was.
“Yes,” he said, waiting for Wylan’s bomb to go off. Jesper had sought cover behind a barrell, peeking out every five seconds. Suddenly, an explosion shattered the shed in front of them, the noise so loud guards came running.
Kaz tsked.
They weren’t supposed to leave their posts, but then again, that was why he continued to let Wylan work for him. The boy was good. And very, very loud. He could see why Jesper had not so much fallen for the guy but had thrown himself headfirst into the tidal wave that was Wylan with the right equipment.
Meanwhile, Inej was already running towards the building that actually held their interest. Just a small heist, really, compared to where they had broken into. But the price was worth it.
They were in and out in a split second, hands full with three pieces of jewellery each. Technically, this wasn’t even a heist. Did it count as stealing if all you did was take back what was stolen from you?
Well not Kaz personally.
He didn’t think ruby necklaces fit his kind of aesthetic. But the woman who had come to him in the middle of the night, driving quite the hard bargain for her standing, had been robbed of the very same jewels disappearing in the folds of his coat. He could taste the thrill of success on his tongue. Turning to Inej, he saw the same rawness in her face that fuelled him. She looked breath-taking tonight, moving fluently, silently ahead of him.
He chased her, suddenly needing to catch up, to catch her. He didn’t know what had come over him, but it felt good, almost like a high.
“You’re in a mood tonight,” she breathed once she had skidded to a stop. He reached her, eyes glued to hers and that dark abyss they represented.
“I-” he didn’t know how to say it. In the moment when it counted, his voice left him. But Inej seemed to understand either way, grinning up at him like she knew how much he wanted to kiss her.
He settled for letting his fingers brush against hers.
It was an invitation.
One he hoped, she would heed.
Kaz recounted all the times, Inej had followed him to his office. This time, though, it felt entirely different. He wasn’t proud to admit his nerves were getting to him on a deep level. Still, at the moment, he wasn’t running, but choosing to stay. He had chucked the coat and Inej her jacket. Her clothes clung to her body and Kaz was instantly reminded of what he had imagined she looked like without them on. Heat spread from his neck to his chest.
“We don’t have to do anything, you know?” she decided to say, standing close but not in a way that was suffocating.
“I know,” he answered, eyes dropping to the ground. A million questions filled his head, each more intricate than the last. He had never been in this situation, he didn’t know how to start, how to say what he wanted to do.
“Did you-” she paused, waiting until he looked at her, “did you try?” With sharp, aborted moments, he affirmed, heard her take in a breath that made his skin tingle.
“Did you like it?” she sounded breathless and he found, he liked it very much. Another nodded affirmation and a grin took hold of her lips. Confidence, he realised, she was radiating sudden confidence like his confession had sparked something inside her. She stepped closer, not menacingly, but in that determined way of hers. Like he was just another wall which needed breaking down. He was afraid, by the end of the night, he would crumble beneath her and enjoy it.
“I want to kiss you,” she whispered, her breath ghosting against his lips. He gulped, trying to meet her half-way. Their mouths collided, a soft brush of lips, the barest hint of pressure.
He felt like an accident against her experience. A wave of shame hit him deep in the gut. She must have sensed the change in him because she forced his head up to meet her gaze.
“I don’t care,” she said, although, he had no idea how she could read him so easily. It should have scared him, really, how she knew him so well she could decipher his thoughts with just one look, but for the moment he was lull into false safety by being spared to voice his embarrassment.
“I don’t care,” she repeated against his lips like a prayer. His head jerked a “no” without his permission and he heard her sigh.
“Kaz,” he refused to look at her, fearing to see how much she pitied him. Kaz Brekker, too broken for even this base form of human interaction. He should have stopped this before it had developed into something so relevant. He should have stayed the hell away from her and her damn eyes.
“Listen to me.” There was a change in her voice, from calming to demanding and Kaz’ gaze instinctively snapped up.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I promise you, it’s not true.” Instead of an answer, he snorted, a mean, ugly thing that almost made her recoil from him.
“Let me tell you a secret…” she whispered and her voice had taken on something more alluring, something he hadn’t quite heard before. It worked more than it should have and he felt weak that it did.
“I like it,” she breathed. Did he imagine her lashes fluttering?
Unable to come up with anything but “What?” he stared at her, so utterly transfixed by the way her eyes had seemed to have darkened.
“I like that you don’t have experience.”
“What?” he felt dumb having to repeat himself but the question urged for an answer, an explanation at least. Because he couldn’t wrap his head around what she was saying.
“You don’t grab me- you don’t take what you want because you don’t know how and it- it makes me feel safe,” she paused, shifting towards him with the beginning of a smile.
Leaning in, she murmured “besides,” adding a pause that felt meaningful “I always liked being in charge.”
He almost rolled his eyes, almost forgot what she was saying in favour of lighting the mood. But he couldn’t quite get there, not with the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders like it had for so many years. To him, she was another thing he had botched, another job gone wrong. And he fought viscously to keep his insecurities from taking over but it was a hard battle.
Beating the odds, he reminded himself sternly.
Kaz Brekker always beat the odds.
He just needed to get a grip.
“Just-” she sighed, apparently weighing her words “let me?”
Despite her gesturing towards his hands, he still didn’t know what that would entail. However, realising he had no real choice in the matter, he let himself nod and his hands dropped to his sides. The iron lid he had kept on his emotions, he forced to slip open just a tad. He still bit down on his tongue, afraid of what would come out if he let it.
“Lean back?” Why she phrased it like a question, he couldn’t tell, but it helped. Marginally. For now, his demons weren’t protesting, the alarm bells in his head remained blissfully silent when he scooted backwards until his knees hit the bed.
Wrong, a voice insisted, this was wrong. He had enough common sense to figure out relatively quickly that this wasn’t because he was giving up control but rather because, deep down, he was still a boy with a frail little ego which needed appraising. Laying back, relinquishing control, felt like an attack to that and he forced down the urge to switch their positions. Not that he ever actually would do that. He knew, more than anybody, how damaging a move like that would be.
Apart from that, the logical half of his brain insisted – rightly so – that he was getting anxious over chauvinistic bullshit.
For some reason, it helped calm him down.
“You know what else I realised?” she asked, climbing on top of him with so much care, a bittersweet ache spread through him.
“Hm?” Any other day, he would have listened carefully, aching to know what made her smile with this much teeth. Now, though, with her hovering above him, the light illuminating her just right, he couldn’t find it in him to concentrate.
Saints, he wanted her closer.
“I’ve never heard you say please and mean it.”
“What-” he swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat “what has that got to do with anything?”
The smile she graced him with was nothing short of patronising but it still held that edge that drove him nuts. He couldn’t help but think he had just missed the point entirely, like something was escaping him. And he didn’t like it. Inej took pity on him before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.
“I’d like to hear it.”
“You want me to say please?” he asked incredulously, lost as to why he would do so at this moment. She didn’t answer right away, studying his face for a long moment.
“You’re not being obtuse on purpose, are you?” He shook his head, too confused to bite back a comment about where she could shove it.
“Interesting,” she murmured and leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips. He was too stunned to reciprocate but she didn’t seem to mind.
“What-” he cleared his throat, curious to decipher her train of thought, “what do you want me to say please for?”
He had no clue and it unsettled him more than it should.
“I could think of a few things…” she murmured, playing with a strand of his hair.
“I don’t-” but his sentence was cut short when she ground her hips down, creating sudden pressure against his dick. He hissed, hands instantly scrambling for the sheets to hold onto something that wasn’t her.
“Still no idea?” Inej asked cheekily, with a half-smile that spoke of trouble. It took him a little, to put it together but when he did, his face flushed, the heat spreading down to his neck.
She wants me to ask for it.
The idea alone should have made the hairs on his arms rise and his breath come short. And it did, but for an entirely different reason than he would have thought.
You’re wrong, you clueless idiot, the voice laughed at him.
She doesn’t want you to ask.
She wants you to beg.
And he would. Saints, he would if it made her grind her hips again. If she would only touch him more.
“Please,” the word felt strange in his mouth, his tongue rolled around it uselessly. She was right. Kaz wasn’t used to saying it and even now that he meant it, something was still off.
“Mean it, Kaz, that was the deal. I want you to mean it,” she still had that infuriating little smile going and Kaz was tempted to sit up and make it vanish.
“Or maybe,” he certainly didn’t like the way she talked “maybe I just have to make you mean it…” The promise swinging in her words made him want to reconsider this entire thing. She could wreck him and he would let her and thank her for it afterwards.
Trusting her to keep him safe – this most vulnerable part of him – was asking a lot of himself.
“Make me?” he rasped out, raising a brow in challenge despite his heart fluttering uncomfortably in his chest. All the things she could do to him, all the ways she could unravel him and he was inviting her to. He marvelled at his own courage – or was it something else entirely.
Maybe, he mused, while watching her ponder perched above him, he really trusted her to this extent.
Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t feel any urge to push her away and run.
Because he trusted her to have this under control.
He trusted her, to battle his demons with him...