Bunny |18+|

Ch.21

Kiara

"Stop staring at my ass," I uttered, not bothered to turn knowing what he was doing. Every bounding step up the stairs back to my apartment felt like a brush of relief, leaving behind the heavy load of bullshit I inconsiderately left back at the warehouse.

It was too much for a day I initially planned to be smooth sailing and right now I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in a blanket and fall into the comforts of my bed before being embraced by sleep.

"I'm not staring," Domenico muttered, powering a frown. I turned, catching him completely off guard once I caught him staring at my rear before he looked down to track his footing. Dirty man.

Roman and Malik had already left the second he parked his car outside, escorted to their own rooms by Camillo—who shamelessly ate our Malaysian food whilst being seated between the two men in the backseat. The whole car ride was awfully awkward, silent with not even a fucking breeze wafting through the air. No one talked—no one had a reason to.

Once my key twisted into the lock and my door creaked open with a whine, I let out a heavy breath, allowing my shoulders to slack and drop the anchoring weights of stress to the ground. Footsteps protruded til I felt my back hit a soft wall, gently getting pushed forwards before my senses were filled with smoke and spices once more.

"Bunny," Domenico sounded, closing the door behind him before spinning my body around to face his. His hands moved to his winter jacket before he shrugged it off and threw it on the kitchen counter, now wearing just a skin tight black sweater with pants. "Talk to me."

My expression twisted to one of confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"You're quiet," he said, urging my body to stumble back once he took slow, conscious steps forwards. He was quiet too, it wasn't something I glossed over with ease and trying to figure out what was going through his mind was deemed futile. I couldn't read his expression throughout the car ride home either when I recalled how his roughened hand gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white whilst the other caressed my thigh with raw vulnerability.

Gentle and rough. Two sides of the same coin.

It was infuriating.

I didn't know what to say—I was already overwhelmed with whatever the fuck happened a few minutes ago. A part of me wanted to accept the fact that I had a known wanted man in the comfort of my own home. The other half wanted to throw that thought away just so I could go back to my dirty fantasies.

My breath hitched without notice as I scowled at him, unaware of the expression that distorted on my face. My lower back eventually hit the couch and with his intimidating body blocking my escape, I stilled. I wasn't mad, I was conflicted with the argument that was going on up in my fucked up mind—and I wanted nothing more than a distraction.

"I don't know," my voice was quiet as I kept my gaze on him, somewhat intimidated by the sharp eyes of the storm that refused to move its gaze from me. I shook my head slowly. "I'm just tired."

Lies.

"You're lying again, doll," his hand moved up to my chin, gently pushing it up to study my face. He had the softest touch, yet the roughest hands that I'd find myself falling into.

I swallowed my words and looked away, not expecting to drive him to create a harder grip on my cheeks, pulling my chin up higher to force my eyes back on him. He breathed, "tell me."