He takes a step back, drawing a long, trembling breath. Kieran feels a heat that can no longer be extinguished, vanishing instantly like a light switch.
Kieran Byrne puts six feet of space between us and turns to face the bookshelf as it offended him.
I stand there with my pulse hammering in my ears and my skin still burning where his nose grazed my neck, and I have to physically remind myself how to breathe.
"Right," I say, to nobody.
"You should sleep." His voice is gravelly. He doesn't turn around.
"You just had your face in my neck."
"I'm aware."
"And now you want me to sleep."
"Yes."
I stare at the back of his head. At the rigid line of his shoulders. The way his hands are gripping the bookshelf is the only thing keeping him in the room.
"Okay," I say pleasantly. "Goodnight,
