The Debt by Karina Halle

Author:Karina Halle [Halle, Karina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Metal Blonde Books
Published: 2016-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Jessica

I’m not sure if I’ve ever been so nervous before. I wasn’t this nervous when I shut the door to my parents’ place and started off on my own. I wasn’t this nervous when I went to my university’s graduation ceremony with the deep-seated fear that my father would somehow show up. I wasn’t this nervous when I moved to Scotland, knowing I had to face my past and start all over again.

This is pure nerves. But it’s a good kind of anxiety, one that’s laced with excitement and promise.

Keir is sitting next to me in the cab and I am so painfully aware of him. The spicy, subtle scent of his cologne, the warmth that radiates off his skin, how good his arms felt holding me as he carried me into the pool, the way his eyes bored into me, intense and heated, as his fingers rubbed my swollen sex to the edge.

The way those same eyes are studying me now. It’s not even the evening and yet we’re heading back to his place to do nothing but fuck.

At least, that’s my understanding of it.

I could back out. But I don’t want to. I’ve had enough of restraining myself, of being my own cock-blocker. I want to know what those fingers feel like when there’s nothing between us but skin.

The cab pulls up to his little place on Circus Lane, the red flowers on the flowerboxes still bright and unaware that autumn has arrived. Keir pays the driver, always generous, and helps me out of the cab then hands me my crutches.

“With any luck she’s won’t hear us come in,” he whispers to me as the cab drives away, the tires making that rolling sound on the cobblestone that I always find strangely comforting.

The comfort doesn’t last, though. I’m holding my breath as he opens the front door and we step into the hallway. My heart starts to thump against my chest, my body swimming in cold prickles. Even the journey up the stairs on crutches does nothing to distract me.

“Have a seat,” he says when we enter his flat and he shuts the door behind him. “I’ll get us something to drink. I’ve got some nice Bordeaux if it’s too early for whisky.” He tosses the bag that holds his swim trunks and whatever he picked up at the drugstore onto his bed, then goes into the kitchen and starts rummaging through the cupboards.

I go over to the couch and set my crutches against it. “Wine would be great,” I tell him, even though I secretly want a few fingers worth of Scotch to calm me down.

And a few fingers worth of him. The thought makes me bite my lip in response.

Keir comes back from the kitchen holding two glasses of red, eyeing me in such a way that I sit up straighter. His eyes are more personal than ever, searching me for some secret hidden part of my existence. I don’t think I deserve to be looked at in such a way, but I’m not complaining.

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