by Angel Payne
Claire shot her stare back up in even more blatant horror. One look at the sharper light in her eyes belied that me she hadn’t been aware of Kim until now.
My chest imploded on top of my ribs. “Claire.”
During the two seconds it took for her to throw the report on the table, she didn’t look at me. Ditto for the two seconds it took for her to whirl and leave the room.
Margaux wrapped her arms around my neck and stared up into my face. “Leave her be. She’s a little…socially awkward. I, on the other hand, am not.” She added a grind of her hips while glancing once more toward Kim. “And I’m willing to share if she is.”
Kim saved my ass by giving that a sizable giggle. The reaction stunned Margaux enough to loosen her hold. I didn’t need another moment to seize the opportunity. After grabbing her wrists and shoving her away, I left the office at a run.
“Claire!”
I easily caught her in the hallway. The verb was appropriate. I had to snatch her elbow to halt her frantic retreat from my door.
“Let go.” She issued the order from tight teeth.
“Sure thing. I’d be happy to keep you here through other means.”
The way I smashed the emphasis on “other” made her stop, whirl, and slam her arms over her chest. “I’m not your anything, Killian. I think that’s been made clear enough now.”
“Why are you whispering?” I guided her over so the wall cushioned us on one side. “There was nothing going on in there to whisper about.”
Her gaze swirled over my face before she spurted a laugh. “Okay—if that’s what you believe.”
An unfamiliar sensation tugged at my gut. It hurt. Recollections came to mind of Trey and Lance pulling pranks during our lunch breaks at Triton. Every time, they found a way to make it look like my fault. Mr. Nayed, a fan of medieval torture methods, was Triton Academy’s detention master.
I was not taking the fall for this.
“Okay, I know what it looked like—”
“What it looked like was none of my business.” She followed it with a tired sigh. I looked down into her face, noticing she looked exhausted, too. It was eight in the morning, and those shadows under her eyes were my fault. Now the tightness around her lips was, as well.
“But now you feel like you’re on the Tilt-A-Whirl again.”
She rolled back until both shoulders hit the wall, lifting her face as if asking for divine guidance. “Why are you bringing that back up?”
“Back up?” I leaned closer. “I never dropped it.”
“Killian—Mr. Stone—” She averted her eyes. “Please, can we just—”
“No. We can’t. Listen to me. Look at me.” I had to pause when Brett from the mail room strode by. I abhorred doing this here, exposed in the hallway. “Everything I said last night? I meant it.”
“I’m sure you did. At the time.” One side of her mouth kicked up, another clear battle for self-composure. “We were both jacked on adrenaline and wine, and—”
“Dammit.” I flattened a palm to the wall next to her head. Coming from any other woman, I would have felt played by her words, strung out in a game. But this was Claire Montgomery, who couldn’t hide anything from her delicate face, especially her fear and insecurity—and the cavalier act she tried to cover both with. “Yes, I meant it then,” I said, locking her stare back into mine. “But only half as much as I do now.”
Holy God, did I mean it. With her perfume tickling my nose and her stature damn near pinned by mine, my blood spiked with new awareness, and my body stirred with fresh need. And this morning, I had jacked off in the gym shower. I’d wanted to last for her tonight.
Tonight—when I’d be on the plane to Beijing.
Fuck.
My human reminder note, a sickeningly cheerful Kim, appeared in the hallway as if the power of my frustration had summoned her there. “Hey, Jamie Stone—you’ll text me later with the details about tonight?”
Fuck, the sequel.
“Jamie Stone?” Claire whispered.
“Yeah,” I muttered to Kim. “I’ll have Britta get it all to you.”
“Thanks. You’re a gem.”
The five seconds of our exchange were all Claire needed to duck beneath my arm. When I tried to claim her shoulder again, she didn’t try to shrug me away. She hauled out heavier ammunition.
Her tears.
Her eyes pooled with liquid as she gazed back up to me. “Please. Just let it go, Killian. It’s all right. I’m all right. Let’s get off the roller coaster…before we both puke.”
I watched her walk down the aisle behind Kim. She’d worn an ivory pantsuit today, a contrast to Kim’s prowling black silhouette. Clashing against them both was the figure waiting for me in the doorway of my office in a crimson figure-hugging sweater dress—Margaux Asher, who bared everything to me except her claws and her breasts.
Perfect. All I needed was a stock market crash or a report of Trey hopping in the sack with another virgin to top off my Christmas stocking with coal. Ho fucking ho.
* * * * *
“Miss Montgomery has arrived, sir.”
Five simple words hadn’t shaken my nerves this much since Congratulations, MIT has accepted you.
I took a full breath as clouds swirled past the window of my condo office, and pushed my steepled fingers harder against my chin. “Thank you, Alfred. Show her—”
She burst into the room before I finished. Eyes blazing gold. Hair falling in fiery torrents. Cheeks and nose smudged in beautiful bursts of pink from the cold. In short, more gorgeous than she’d ever been.
“Forget it, Fred,” she snapped. “Mr. Stone summoned me so Mr. Stone can ‘show me in.’”
Alfred’s gaze met mine. His salt-and-pepper brows kicked up, but amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Very well.” He backed out and closed the door.
As I expected, she didn’t let a second of downtime expire. “I’m here.” Her voice was ice, her posture frostier. “You happy now, your highness? Show me your ‘issue’ with the press release this time—which could have been handled via email, by the way.”
I stepped forward, leaving the desk behind. I’d removed my coat and tie, too. The moment was balanced on a damn precarious precipice. After six hours, I’d resorted to issuing a “professional” command for her presence, without a single professional thought in my body. Blurred lines…one of my biggest anathemas. Steps were missed when you fogged up the path. Mistakes snuck through open doors. Secrets got exposed.
At the moment, I didn’t give a fuck.
Finally, finally, she was here. Alone. Mine.
We just had to clear the damn air.
“I’m having trouble with my emails today.” It wasn’t wholly a lie. Between pre-adjusting my brain to Beijing time and forcing my body to wait for her, focusing on correspondence had been impossible for the last six hours.
She answered my assertion with a thin laugh. I ignored her derision. “Let me take your coat.”
She tightened the cream-colored trench. “I’m fine.”
Not acceptable. I moved forward again, taking steady steps until I braced both feet in front of her. When I spoke, the growl was regulated solely for the air between us. “Take off your coat, Claire.”
She swallowed, pulled the tie free, and began to shrug out of the coat. I stepped behind her to help.
She shivered as I peeled the whole thing from her body. And forced myself to stop there. God help me, I didn’t want to.
With the coat still my hands, I pressed closer to her. My face hovered above her hair, and I took a deep breath of her rich lavender shampoo. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
She snickered. “Right. Those. Emails weren’t working for you but texts were, huh?”
“That’s not an answer.”
She moved away until the desk stopped her. “Couldn’t pick the one I liked best. You gave me a choice of five hundred, after all.”
“At least one of us had choices. You didn’t leave me with
much of one this morning, after jumping to every conclusion in the book.”
She whirled back at me, eyes blazing. “Margaux was climbing you like a tree frog.”
“Yes, she was.” I draped her coat over a chair, moving in on her again. “She was climbing me. Funny thing about trees and frogs, Claire. The tree doesn’t get much of a say, does it? She was excited about Oprah agreeing to interview Trey and broke in on a private meeting I was having—”
“Of course.” She snorted. “A private meeting.”
“A private business meeting—with the head of my goddamn Asian division. Her name is Kim Xu, and—”
“She calls you ‘Jamie.’”
“Because she’s a cheeky chit and a good friend. Period.” I grabbed both her shoulders, squeezing to compel her gaze up. “What the hell is going on here, Claire? Drama isn’t your style. What’s really happening?”
She averted her eyes. “You have no clue about my ‘style,’ Mr. Stone.”
“Like hell I don’t.” I’d studied every thread of her style for nearly twenty-one days. I knew it well enough to detect that despite her tight jaw and pursed lips, she liked my nearness. A lot. I took another step closer.
She squirmed and closed her eyes. “I—I don’t know what—”
“Nice try.” I went for it. Dared to tug on her a little, drawing her trembling body closer to mine. To my shock, she didn’t resist. Fuck, she smelled good. And felt even better. “But you’re also pretty shitty at lying. So let’s start over. All this bluster about the scene in my office…it’s absurd. You know that, don’t you?”
A long swallow moved down her throat. “Killian. Mr. Stone. Please—”
“A pretty word for table manners and sex requests. But not effective at the moment, Miss Montgomery.”
Her gaze flew wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can certainly have my pardon. But I’m still calling your bullshit.” I trailed the words down her face—while backing her against my desk again. “This has nothing to do with Margaux or Kim. It has everything to do with your insecurity again, doesn’t it?”
Beautiful little huffs came out of her nose. “I’m not insecure.”
“The fuck you aren’t. I know fear when I see it, Claire. I’ve experienced enough of the shit to be an expert, especially now.” I returned her stunned stare with a jerking nod. “Yeah. It all terrifies me, too. But to make up roadblocks just because you’re scared, to keep protesting that we don’t fit…”
I interrupted myself with a tight moan as I pressed my lower body to hers. Christ, she was perfect. Even through the layers of our clothes, the heat of her sex welcomed me. The tight juncture of her thighs tempted me.
In a feverish sweep, I shoved all the shit off the desk. And flattened her to it. My head fell against her neck. I scraped at her carotid with my teeth. She tasted so fucking good.
“Oh…”
Her desperate cry filled my ears, spiked my blood, engorged my cock to painful intensity. I drove a hand against her scalp, meshing her hair between my fingers in furious satisfaction. I’d waited so long for this. So goddamn long.
“Ohhhh,” she sighed again.
“You want to tell me again how we don’t fit?” I growled into her ear.
“Killian,” she gasped. “I’m—I’m here to—to work on the press rel—”
I stole the rest of the words from her lips by smashing mine against them.
Chapter Eight
Claire
I’d heard kisses described as crashes but always laughed at the metaphor. Fate knew how to teach me a hell of a lesson, didn’t it?
I was mid-sentence when he rammed me at full force, inundating me with his taste, surrounding me with his strength, a deluge of one hundred percent Killian Stone. Was there any other way with this man? He stopped my breath with the force of a storm wind, taking what he wanted, when he wanted. And heaven help me¸ he wanted me.
Or maybe it was better if heaven took the night off.
His smooth lips covered mine with skill I’d never experienced. He knew every curve to explore, every crevice to lick, every moment to press in until I opened for him, letting him sweep inside with confidence that was both thrilling and infuriating. A moan escaped me, flowing into his open mouth. He pushed the kiss deeper, stroking his tongue to mine, blatantly testing my resistance.
Oh, damn…
He stole my breath and my sanity in one swift move, laying me out on his desk until his lithe, hard body hovered inches over mine. I didn’t dare gaze up. I couldn’t help myself. He was everywhere, his body hot and strong, eyes alluring as sin. Everything about him beckoned me over to the dark side. His dark side.
I attempted a feeble protest. “K-Killian. W-we can’t…”
“We can.” He lowered himself, flattening his broad chest against mine. If I’d been capable of breathing—and that was a big if—his weight obliterated the option. I didn’t care. If I had any dilemma at all, it was how to keep my hands from roaming over every inch of his long, muscled body.
“Claire.” He cupped a hand to my cheek. “My beautiful fairy queen.” The words I’d blasted him for yesterday became an honor he’d earned now, an ambrosia that tumbled from his lips into my thirsty senses. “I’ve been waiting for this…for you.”
I laughed softly while pressing my cheek into his palm. “I get that one.”
“You do?” His eyes closed for a moment. “I’m so fucking glad.” When he reopened them, I met his fathomless stare and tried to speak.
“But we still both know this is crazy. We need to stop—”
“Fighting it.” He moved closer, tightening his hold. “That’s all we have to do. I already have.” He pried deeper into my soul with that gaze, layer by ruthless layer, taking what he desired from me there, too. I shuddered from the exposure, but was unable to move, completely in his thrall. “You have me on the ropes, Claire Montgomery. I’m done resisting.”
Without another warning, he swept low to kiss me again. God, the way he kissed. His lips, though barely touching down, sent shivery sensation up and down my limbs as he brushed my mouth with velvet-soft strokes. This time, I forced my eyes open, bewitched by the jet black fronds of his eyelashes resting on his high cheekbones. He smiled a little when gazing to me again, before he pressed in harder for a long, delicious moment.
“What are you thinking?” He took advantage of my slightly-parted lips to tease the inside of my mouth with the tip of his tongue. His voice held an equal hint of seduction. “And why are you staring?”
“I’m afraid to close my eyes,” I finally admitted. “What if I open them to learn I’ve just been dreaming?”
“Hmm.” His lips lifted with sensual slowness. “I get that one.”
Even his deliberate tribute to my words didn’t assuage my anxiety. “Killian,” I persisted, “this is wrong on so many levels.” But my body didn’t want to hear anything about that. The fluttering in my stomach, a non-issue in my life before shaking this man’s hand three weeks ago, was undeniable and unquenchable. Still, I tried. “It’s not wise for you, and it’s outright—”
Dangerous for me.
They were to be the next words I spoke, if not for his next kiss, so searing and demanding. His renewed fire wasn’t surprising. The man had undoubtedly logged fewer celibate days than me, but every muscle in his body thrummed with an undercurrent of desire, flicked on by switches of no-nonsense lust. His passion punched every button in my own body’s control panel, eliciting a high whimper from deep in my throat.
Dear God, he rendered me helpless. His hot tongue, his bold taste, his urgent desire…he intoxicated me, and I never wanted sobriety. He enslaved me, and I never wanted freedom.
He leaned up on his forearms, fitting more of his weight against me. Arousal, lust, and need built between us. While tangling tongues in another hot kiss, we knocked the remaining items from the desktop. I moaned and parted my legs so he could settle between them, a place where he fit perfectly. Killia
n brushed the hair from my forehead then bent closer, trailing kisses along my jaw, scraping a path with his rough stubble that made my skin tingle.
With a long sigh, I finally gave in to the temptation of touching him in return. I gripped his straining shoulders, kneading the contours of his muscles as I went. With his mouth now at my ear, he let out an approving groan. Shivers shot down my spine…and lower. I arched my back, sliding my body even closer to his.
“Claire,” he said with reverence. “Damn…Claire.”
If I had words to give in return, his eyes swallowed them up. They seemed made of boundless velvet onyx, able to make grown men quiver and grown women simper. I saw the reasons for both, yet so much more than that, too. He was so much more than that. Were his layers what he chose to show me, or simply what I was able to see? The answer to that was like wondering what caused the beauty of a sunrise. Why worry about a triviality when the creator gave such an incredible view to savor?
Killian returned to my lips with thorough nips and nibbles, finally pushing inside my mouth again. I held him tighter as another sigh floated up my throat. He matched it with a rough rumble of sound that gained intensity as it reverberated through our bodies. There was no denying our attraction anymore. On a visceral level, it was potent, but once the quakes of my mind and soul were factored in, the force was like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life.
I was terrified.
I was electrified.
I was in a lot of damn trouble.
Killian possessed my mouth deeper, pulling my senses even higher. He moaned, clearly telling himself to be patient and coercing, but as soon as I sighed again, he plunged down with intensity. Each kiss after that grew, spiraling with passion and heat until we both panted hard, seeking deliverance from the flames even as we ignited more.
“Come to my bed,” he growled. “Now. Please.” He suckled impatiently down my neck to the hollow at its base while tugging my blouse from where it was tucked in my slacks. “I want you naked under me…taking my body and squeezing me tight…screaming my name…”
World War III had commenced in my head. He had no idea that when he spoke of me screaming, I didn’t think only of pillows, sheets, passion, and sweat. My mind filled with arrest warrants, handcuffs, prison jumpsuits, and…sweat.
