Chapter 79
Summer's POV
"Can I..." Kieran paused, his gaze dropping to my fingers, then back to my face. His voice was careful, almost polite. "Can I lick it off?"
The question hit me like a physical thing. My brain short-circuited. "What?"
"The oil." His eyes were dark in the moonlight, fixed on my hand with an intensity that made my stomach flip. "It's still warm. Still good. Can I?"
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. I just nodded, barely able to manage that small movement.
His hand came up to steady mine, warm breath ghosting over my palm. Then I felt it—the rough, hot slide of his tongue against my skin.
He licked slowly, deliberately, following the trail of oil from my wrist down toward my palm. The sensation was overwhelming, nothing like I'd expected. It wasn't romantic or gentle. It was raw and hungry and desperate, like a starving animal finally allowed to eat. Like those stray dogs I'd seen as a kid in Back Bay, all ribs and wariness, approaching offered food with a mixture of suspicion and need.
He worked his way down my palm, his tongue rough and thorough, cleaning every trace of oil. When he reached my fingers, he went even slower, his tongue sliding between each one with careful attention. The sound of it was obscene in the quiet night—wet and deliberate and impossible to ignore.
I couldn't breathe. My whole body felt like it was on fire despite the cold air. This wasn't how people shared food. This wasn't normal. This was something else entirely, something that made my heart race and my skin prickle with a mixture of fear and want I didn't know how to name.
It wasn't tender or loving. It was possessive and careful at once, like he was claiming something precious, something he might never get to touch again. The fish oil mixed with his saliva, hot and slick against my skin, and I felt like I might combust from the intimacy of it.
When he finally pulled back, my hand was clean but tingling, every nerve ending alive and screaming. I yanked it back like I'd been burned, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"I have to go." The words came out strangled. I scrambled off the rock, nearly tripping over my own feet. I didn't even remember to grab my jacket. I just ran.
Behind me, I heard him call my name once, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. My whole hand felt cold now, or maybe hot—I couldn't tell anymore. I ran until I reached the edge of the camp, my breath coming in harsh gasps, my heart beating so hard it hurt.
I stopped at the camp entrance, pressing one hand to my chest. What the hell was that? What had we just done?
I turned back, unable to help myself. From this distance, I could just make out his silhouette by the stream. He hadn't moved from the rock. The food sat untouched beside him. He was just sitting there, tall and still and alone, his face tilted slightly up toward where I stood.
He looked like a stray dog again. Beautiful and dangerous and heartbreakingly alone.
I wanted to go back. Wanted to sit with him and pretend that hadn't just happened, or maybe talk about it, figure out what it meant. But my legs felt like water and my hand still tingled where his mouth had been, and I was terrified of what might happen if I went back.
So I did the only thing I could manage. I cupped my hands around my mouth and called across the distance, "Kieran! Eat the food, okay? And bring the container back when you're done!"
He didn't respond, but I saw him nod slowly.
I turned and fled to the girls' cabin, my hand clenched against my chest, my mind replaying the sensation of his tongue against my skin over and over until I thought I might lose my mind.
Inside, Mia took one look at my face and raised her eyebrows, but mercifully didn't ask. I climbed into my sleeping bag fully clothed and buried my face in my pillow, trying to forget the heat of his mouth and the hungry, desperate way he'd looked at me.
But I couldn't. God help me, I couldn't forget it at all.