Spiraling Deception

by Noree Kahika

  “I’ll let you go in a minute, Princess, but first…allow me to test this theory of yours.”

  Before I could even process the words he’d spoken, his mouth slammed over mine; his tongue slid across the seam of my lips and pried them apart. My brain screamed in protest but my body eagerly capitulated to his demand and my lips parted, allowing him entrance. His tongue wasted no time as it thrust into my mouth: tasting, exploring, and sweeping away all coherent thoughts I had. His hands dropped from the wall on either side of my head to wrap around my waist and roughly hauled me against his body. Vaguely, I registered one of his hands slide up the bare skin of my back and trail a path of goose bumps in their wake. His palm reached the base of my neck, where his fingers dove into my scalp and angled my head to the side to deepen the kiss. And I was lost. Lost in the kiss, lost in the heat of his body and the musky scent of his aftershave.

  My hands involuntarily threaded through the dark, silky locks of his hair and held him to me just as tightly as he held me. Our tongues dueled in a frenzied dance of dominance, unabashedly fighting each other for control. He tasted of hot spicy wine and cool refreshing mint—the combination both unique and invigorating.

  Melting further into his body, I brazenly moaned and sought more of his intoxicating taste. His other hand glided slowly down over the exposed skin of my lower back and finally stopped to cup my ass in his palm. I panicked as the carnal sensations from the feel of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my bottom overwhelmed me and reeled back from his embrace. My breath came out in shallow pants as I struggled to clear the haze of desire from my head.

  “Not only do you want that key, Princess, but I think you’d follow me willingly down into that bunker and it would have absolutely nothing to do with food and water.”

  Roman’s voice was low and husky, his own breath ragged; those damn indigo eyes of his were lazy and half masked but there was no mistaking the egotistical smirk spread smugly across his lips.

  The fucking jerk!

  “You’re a jerk!” I hissed, and then ducked under his arm, out from his reach. With those lame parting words, I ran like lightning up the staircase, down the long winding hallway and straight into my French-seventeenth-century-chateau fairytale bedroom, slamming the door with a resounding thump and locking it.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  What the hell did I just do!

  Chapter Five

  “Ohmigod Charli, you missed the best breakfast,” said Courtney.

  I wrinkled my nose at her. Ugh! Just the thought of food made my stomach roll. Absently, I noted her and Jake’s suitcases were neatly lined up against the wall and I rolled my case over beside theirs. “Not hungry,” I mumbled as I pulled up zipper of my pink hoodie.

  “Sheesh, I see someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Have a late night drinking, hmm?”

  Her chipper, singsong voice sounded like nails scraping down a chalkboard. Narrowing my tired, sore eyes, I gave Courtney my best don’t mess with me today glare and then my focus zoned in on the steaming mug of hot coffee she held in her hand.

  “Where did you get that from? I need one stat,” I all but groaned.

  “Henri was kind enough to get Jake and me one for the road. You want one?”

  “Have we not met? After all these years, do you not know me by now?”

  “Here.” Jake passed me a mug as he strolled alongside me. As I snatched the heavenly brew from his hand, I inhaled its heady aroma as if it was fresh air and my lungs were starved of oxygen. “I thought you might need one before we all head off. And a ‘you’re welcome’ would be nice.”

  “Thank you, Jake. And this is why I love you.” I gave Jake a quick peck on the cheek before I took a long sip of the coffee.

  “And no, I’m not hungover, Court. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  “Was that because you weren’t alone?” chirped Courtney and I choked on the mouthful of coffee in my mouth.

  Oh for the love of…

  I scowled at Courtney. “For your information, nosy britches, I spent the night all by myself.”

  “Uh huh…” She laughed. “I’m just messing with you, Charli.” Then she clapped her hands together in excitement. “Can you believe we’re going to Paris today?”

  Jake threw me a frown before he muttered, “I’ll just go take our bags outside.”

  “Oh, hang on. I’ll come with you, babe. I want to take some more photos of the chateau’s exterior before we leave,” Courtney said to Jake’s retreating form as she pulled a small digital camera out of her purse.

  Yawning, I experienced a small pang of guilt for not feeling as excited for our Paris adventure as Courtney was, but I was sleep deprived, cranky, and entirely still flustered from the previous evening’s encounter with Roman Knight. Instead of going back up to my room to relax and soak in that magnificent claw-foot bath, I changed into my pajamas and went straight to bed, where I proceeded to toss and turn for the better part of the night.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel those incredibly soft yet firm, unyielding lips of his on mine. The way his hands possessively roamed over my body—I’d never felt anything even remotely like that before. Then there were the things he said to me—arrogant, pretentious, egotistically haughty words that set my blood boiling every time I replayed them in my head. I didn’t understand how one person could simultaneously make me so furiously angry and so incredibly turned on in equal measure—it was beyond my comprehension. All night I’d berated myself over and over at the lack of my self-control—I practically threw myself in his arms and dry humped the man when I kissed him back.

  The jerk!

  And now I had to endure more of his supreme jerkiness…all the way to flipping Paris—the one city in the world I had always dreamed of seeing more than any other since I was ten years old.

  Way to spoil my fun, Roman Knight. Angrily, I took another gulp of my coffee.

  “Charlotte.” An annoyingly familiar voice called behind me and I closed my eyes to seek divine patience. Just a few more hours, I chanted to myself even as the deep, rich cultured tone of his voice of his played havoc with my senses.

  “Roman.” I smiled sweetly and turned to face him.

  “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out and gently grasping my shoulder. The easy smile he wore faded into a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a little tired this morning.” I tilted my head, curious. The mask of arrogance from last night was gone and he genuinely appeared to be concerned for me. It was kind of…sweet. And I noted he looked good this morning…as in really, really good.

  Dressed in another three-piece suit—navy this time—with a pale blue shirt and silver patterned tie, the colors accentuated the intensity of those sparkling midnight-blue eyes of his. His dark, wavy hair was damp, probably from a recent shower, and a little more tousled than it was last night, but that sexy five o’clock shadow was still there, peppered along his strong jawline. Idly, I wondered whether he carefully cultivated that stubble each day. Then my gaze lingered on the outline of his full mouth; my tongue darted out and unconsciously licked my own lips.

  “Charlotte.” He growled low in warning. The sound jerked me from the Roman Knight-induced trance I was in.

  “It’s Charli,” I snapped back, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Then, with a blush, I silently berated myself for being so insanely attracted to the jerk all over again.

  “Of course, Charli,” he agreed amicably. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Umm, yes, I’m all packed.” I pointed to my case in the corner. “Jake’s already taken their bags outside and Court’s out there as well. She wanted to get a few photos of the chateau before she left.”

  Roman seemed to quietly absorb what I’d said, and then gestured with a nod of his head toward the coffee I held. “And you’ve had breakfast?”

  “Er…no. Just this.” I held up the precious brew in my hand as proof. When he rais
ed an eyebrow in response, I felt bizarrely compelled to explain. “I…um…didn’t sleep too well last night and when I finally fell asleep…well, I woke up late. I think I missed breakfast.”

  Scowling, Roman barked at Henri, whom I hadn’t realized had joined us in the foyer. “Henri, please call ahead and instruct the crew to have a selection of breakfast choices for the flight and in the meantime, could you please fetch Miss Gilmore a fresh cup of coffee and a croissant to go.”

  Tearing my stunned gaze from Roman, I started to protest. “No, no, that’s okay, Henri. The coffee I have is—”

  Henri had already disappeared toward the kitchen and out of earshot.

  “That really wasn’t necessary,” I snapped at Roman, who now glared at me. Geez, first scowling and now glaring—perhaps he didn’t sleep all that well either. Nevertheless, I didn’t like his bossy attitude and there really wasn’t any reason for him to bark at Henri like that. If I were hungry, I would’ve come down earlier for some breakfast.

  Roman ignored my comment and instead asked in a brusque tone, “You didn’t sleep well?”

  “No, I didn’t. I tossed and turned for most of the night,” I confirmed, probably over-sharing a little too much. He considered for a moment and then in amazement, I watched, transfixed, as the expression on his handsome face morphed again. Slowly, his mouth curved into a lazy, arrogant smirk and his gaze openly roamed my face.

  “Was there something in particular that kept you awake?” he drawled as he reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed my neck; I tried but failed to suppress a shiver.

  “The mattress was too lumpy,” I fibbed, my voice uneven and breathy.

  “Liar,” he whispered back as he took a step closer to me. The heat from his body radiated out toward mine and caressed my senses as we each stared at the other, caught captive in a desire-fueled spell, neither of us willing to break.

  What was it about this man that had me spiraling in a tailspin every time I was around him?

  “Come, let’s get you and your friends to Paris.” His tone was tinged with reluctance.

  As he ushered me toward the door, he placed his palm lightly on the small of my back just like last night, and just like last night, his touch send a sizzling shiver of electricity through my spine and I shivered. The smell of his intoxicatingly spicy, warm aftershave enveloped me as we walked down the steps and toward the car together.

  The drive to the airport was…uncomfortable to say the least. Firstly, Roman manipulated the seating so I sat next to him on one bench seat while Courtney and Jake sat across from us on the other in the back of the spacious limousine. Secondly, one of Roman’s pant-covered thighs annoyingly pressed up against my leg during the entire journey. Despite my jeans, I could still feel the warmth from his body seep into mine and every inconsequential movement, every minute twitch his strong, muscled thigh made drove me insane. Surprisingly, you wouldn’t believe how many times your body is actually jostled while riding in the backseat of a limo. Childishly, I wanted to get a marker, draw a line down the middle of the seat and tell Roman to stick to his damn side.

  Thirdly, and definitely most infuriatingly, as both Roman and Jake casually talked about some stupid sports team, I endeavored to inconspicuously slide to the far corner of the seat in an attempt for a little reprieve from the sensory overload his touch caused but each time, the jerk thwarted me. He very calmly and nonchalantly slid his arm along the back of the seat until his palm reached the top of my shoulder and with firm fingers, he pressed against my shoulder blade in silent warning. It was last fucking night all over again—I could either say something, which would no doubt cause a scene, or I could grin and bear it until the vehicle came to a stop.

  Doggedly refusing to play along with his little game of cat and mouse, I ground my teeth together in a gargantuan effort for patience. Courtney’s bug-eyed expression, however, told me that Roman’s and my little interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Half an hour later, the limo finally pulled to a stop on the tarmac of a small airfield and I sighed in relief. Through the side window of the vehicle, a gleaming, sleek white jet, in stark contrast to the grayness of the tarmac, was proudly parked. A Knight Industries logo was painted in large black bold font on the side of the jet, and at the base of the lowered staircase stood a middle-aged man dressed in a pilot uniform.

  The driver opened our door and Jake, Courtney, and Roman filed out. Roman took my hand when it was my turn.

  “Morning, Mr. Knight,” greeted the pilot as he approached our little group.

  “Good morning, Phil. Everything ready?” Roman shook the pilot’s proffered hand.

  “Yes, sir. She’s all ready to go.”

  “Good. Phil, this is Miss Gilmore and her friends, Jake and Courtney.”

  Phil shook all our hands and welcomed us aboard, wishing us a pleasant flight before he veered off and climbed the stairs of the jet. The limo driver brought our bags from the trunk and placed them in the cargo hold while Roman gestured for us to embark the aircraft.

  “Oh my God! This plane is awesome,” squealed Courtney as she followed me up the stairs and inside.

  Jake lifted his chin in approval. “This is cool, man.”

  Roman’s private jet was more than cool; it was freaking spectacular and I immediately felt a different kind of discomfort. Roman Knight was obviously one seriously wealthy man: the chateau in Bordeaux, the expensive designer clothes he wore, the limousine and driver—but owning a luxurious jet of this caliber brought it to a whole other level. The man must be stinking rich and the realization made me feel both uneasy and apprehensive.

  The cabin décor was decidedly masculine with its myriad blacks, whites, and grays. Dark, plush carpeting contrasted with the stark white of the high-backed leather seats; glossy gray-marbled veneered side tables were placed between the seating groups. Two seats faced each other on either sides of the aisle closest to the cockpit. Another two seats were in the middle of the cabin with a three-seat lounge opposite. Two black paneled doors were at the rear of the plane alongside a small but modern, well-equipped galley. I wondered whether the paneled doors led to a bathroom, a bedroom, or both.

  Roman followed us up to the front. He ushered me to the seating on the right and then motioned Jake and Courtney to the two seats on the left. Small flat-screen televisions were mounted on either side of the cockpit door and all the seats were adorned with luxurious black-and-white patterned throw pillows. After he took his seat, Roman leaned to the side and I belatedly noticed several electronic buttons, complete with a phone, mounted on a side panel next to his chair.

  Hmm…command central perhaps?

  Roman picked up the phone handset as a tall and very attractive brunette approached and flashed a blinding white smile. She was dressed in an extremely tight, short black skirt, killer nude heels, and a crisp white buttoned-down shirt with black and gold epaulets fixed at the shoulders. A matching black, white, and gold-checkered scarf was tied around her neck and I would have said the ensemble would’ve been aviator chic if it wasn’t for the ample cleavage that spilled from a few too many buttons she’d left undone. With her blinding smile aimed directly at Roman, it was flagrantly obvious her uniform attire was a brazen attempt to snag her boss’s eye.

  My appraisal of her was proved right when she flipped her long flowing locks over one shoulder, licked the vibrant red of her lips and she flashed another come-hither smile at him.

  Oh man, was she for real?

  Every girl on the planet knew the hair-flip combined with the lip-lick and the peekaboo ta-tas was universal code for Let’s get naked and fuck each other’s brains out.

  “Good morning, Mr. Knight,” she purred. The sultry breathlessness of her voice made my eyes roll. “May I offer you something to drink, sir?”

  Ohmigod! The woman actually batted her eyelashes at him and it wouldn’t have surprised me if she followed it up by jumping in Roman’s lap. Invol
untarily, my eyes narrowed into squinty slits to shoot her a death glare and my teeth ground together in irritation.

  Wait! What was I doing?

  Taking a calming breath, I mentally chided myself. There was nothing for me to be jealous about: Roman Knight wasn’t my boyfriend, or anything else for that matter, so why should I care?

  Muttering something into the phone, Roman held one long finger up toward her before he ended the call and looked directly at me. “We’ll have two coffees, thank you, Megan, and would you bring Miss Gilmore some breakfast as soon as we take off.”

  Megan, the overtly flirtatious stewardess, swung her gaze at me. “Of course.” Her gaze wasn’t as friendly anymore. Borderline hostility would’ve been a better description and I pursed my lips in order to suppress a smile. “We have a selection of pastries and fruits, or I can offer you eggs and toast if you’d prefer.”

  “Er, fruit will be fine. Thank you.” I cheerfully grinned at her.

  “Certainly,” she replied curtly. And although her tone was professional, it was frosty, the suggestive purr most definitely absent.

  Megan swung her attention to Jake and Courtney, taking their orders before she strut back to the galley at the rear of the plane just as Phil, the pilot, announced over the intercom for us to buckle up and ran through several safety instructions.

  Within minutes, the engines roared to life, the jet effortlessly taking off, and we were up in the air. Even I had to admit that there was something to be said about bypassing long lines at airports and navigating security checks, not to mention this plane was definitely first class all the way. No clambering crowds and hard, narrow seats.

  “First time in a private plane?” Roman pulled my gaze from the view out the window.

  I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yes, it is. I have to admit, this is a very cool way to travel. Thank you for the ride to Paris, by the way.”

  “You’re very welcome, Charlotte.” His answering grin was a little mischievous, making him look at least several years younger than I suspected he actually was.