Killian retrieves a cigarette and stuffs it between his lips, then fishes for his Zippo. I crunch my nose, “Didn’t you say you’d quit if I kept your hands and lips occupied?” I expect him to laugh it off, but he simply throws the cigarette out the window and opens his palm. “Hand.” Swallowing, I place mine in his. A small smirk curls his mouth. “Now lips.” When I hesitate, he glances at me. “You weren’t so shy when you first kissed me last night.”
