The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 22 ~ Kiss

Chapter 22

I kissed him, and it was different than any kiss I'd ever experienced before. It was soft and tentative and unsure. It was just like any other drug, the worst idea with the biggest euphoric payoff. Bard's hand trailed a line from my cheek to my neck, barely touching me at all, but no sooner did his fingers tangle into my hair, everything shifted.

Those fingers curled in, gripped and pulled until he held me firm, and a low rumble left his chest. He took control, kissed me with an urgency that left me dizzy, and I was lost. I was adrift in the world where he was the only solid thing for me to hang onto. And I clung. His shoulders, his neck. I ran my fingers into that tempting hair, and it was just as silky as I'd imagined it would be.

Another rumble vibrated his chest, and he pushed closer. So close my butt slid the last few inches across the seat, and my back hit the wall at the end. It was borderline aggressive, but I didn't fucking care. It was hot. Hotter than hot. It was heady and thick, but an undertone of sweet lingered. It never left, even when his grip tightened, and his fingers dug into me. Not even when he made a sound more animal than man. It was still there, a sweetness, like a cigar one only smoked on special occasions, harsh but decadent.

He broke away and pressed his forehead to mine, breathing hard, hand still clasped into my hair, eyes shut and jaw firm.

I panted for air, only just realizing I'd been denied it.

"I will tell you one thing," he said, voice tight. His eyes opened and locked with mine. "I watched you that first night in the bar, and I thought I had you figured out. I thought you were just like me." His eyes cut into me. "But then I looked closer and realized I was wrong, Tequila. You're nothing like me. You're stronger. You keep living."

My breath caught again, and the oxygen left my grasp. I lost myself in the sound of his voice, and I was drowning. Consequences became distant memories, unable to make good choices when the devil on my shoulder looked more like a god.

"The more I learn about you, the more I... I think I'm going crazy." The bone in his jaw flexed. "I want you so bad it hurts. I think about you all the time. Not just about this, but about other things. I want you to trust me. I want you to feel safe, and I want to move away from you right now, so you will."

His lips hit mine in a kiss deep enough to curl my toes, then pulled back as if a rope had tugged him. "But then you look at me like you did last night, like you're looking at me right fucking now, and you make it so damn hard to do the right thing."

I stared at him. I'm so fucked. The man didn't just tempt, he grabbed my heart and demanded I give it to him. It was more dangerous than sex. More dangerous than Drake. Karma really did it to me. She dropped the nuclear bomb.

And I wanted to burn.

"That was a really pretty speech, Bard," I said, words breathless. I needed him to stop talking. I needed the physical, because the rest was just too much. "But I liked you better when your tongue was in my mouth."

He groaned as his lips captured mine again even harder, even more urgent. He echoed my need. It mirrored the desperate feeling tightening my core and demanding to be satiated.

In one swift move, he gabbed my hip and pulled me down onto my back. Then the same hand slid up to my knee and pushed. Next thing I knew, he was everywhere. So close, yet not close enough. His kiss softened, long and languid as he stretched his large frame across mine. The weight of him, in all the most amazing places, was sin. The definition of sin. This was why people burned. This was why they let themselves be damned. It was impossible not to when the apple felt so right.

Then, he stopped. His muscles seemed to all stiffen at once, and he broke away.

I ran a hand along his back and cupped his head to pull him back, but he wasn't looking at me. He'd turned towards the door, and a second later, I knew why.

Someone knocked.

Bard pushed himself up the rest of the way and stood at full attention, eyes sharpened back to how they'd been the first time I'd seen them. Alert. Deadly.

I scrambled up and pulled my feet onto the seat. From my crouched position, I could just make out the shape of a head through the blinded window. "Who is it?"

Bard whipped a hand up to silence me, gaze still locked on the door. He walked with the stealth of a trained killer and peeked through. "It's some old man." He cast a look over at me. "Does anyone know you're here?"

I stepped out of the booth and, not as quietly as he had, walked over to get a look.

Mr. Frankfire stared at the door as if he was ready to scold it for not opening.

"Mother fucker." I trudged to the door and yanked it open. "Old man, you've got some kind of fucking timing."

He looked at me like he had the door. "Don't you get that tone with me. I've been worried sick. You didn't come back to the bridge, didn't say a word. I've been out of my mind."

You're always out of your mind. "I'm fine, as you can see." But I'm not fine. I'm anything but fine. I was two seconds away from...

Holy shit. I was two seconds away.

I cast a glance over to Bard, who'd taken a seat back at the booth and seemed awful stiff with his back to me.

This old man just saved my fucking ass. What had I been thinking? And I'd started the shit!

"Come in!" I snatched his hand and pulled him in a way that could have been considered elderly abuse. I needed him here. I needed a buffer. I needed a reason to not get turned on, and if Mr. Frankfire's ugly mug couldn't do that, I had bigger problems.

Bard stood as the old man entered the room and held out a hand.

Mr. Frankfire's didn't take it. His eyes narrowed, ever the perceptive. They darted between me and Bard and back again. "What is it I was interrupting exactly?"

Bard, who seemed to be able to elicit the adoration of more than just me, snatched a bag from the table and held it out. "We were eating candy, watching Rocky." He motioned to the tv, which I'd forgotten about completely. Someone was once again in the process of getting beat for the sheer pleasure of pain.

He lifted the bag again. "You want to join us?"

The old man took it and made himself right at home. He sat down at the table, broke into a candy bar, and chewed happily. "Alright. I like you, I suppose."

Bard's lip twitched. "I'll give you two a minute."

He turned towards the back, steps stiff as he made his way down the hall.

Mr. Frankfire's gaze followed him. "Take a cold shower, boy! You'll feel better!" He took another bite and looked at me. "You've been busy."

He had no idea.

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