by Kiru Taye
Pulling back, he stared at her breasts. They stood full and tantalising, wrapped in a pink lace and satin bra. A smile curled his lips.
Beneath her severe monochrome exterior she hid a flirty, girly side. Possessiveness swelled his heart. Gladness because he'd got to see another side to Kasie which no one else saw. Later he’d think about exploring the flirty side. Right now, he was more interested in the contents of her bra. Her nipples tightened into hard buttons as he watched. She lifted her hands to undo the clasp of the bra. With a grip on her lower arm, he stopped her.
"Let me."
He reached behind and unhooked the bra, sliding it down her arms and dropping it on the floor. Her breasts looked exquisite, perfect full round globes with the brown areoles. Chocolate drizzle on caramel fudge.
How did he get so lucky? Her earlier attitude forgotten. All he wanted to do now was worship her body.
"You are beautiful."
He bent over her, taking a tautened peak into his mouth. She gasped, arching her body into his. He sucked and licked while she writhed and bucked.
Her responsiveness was nearly his undoing, his desire swelling, and hardening. He inhaled harsh breaths as he alternated between breasts. He needed his control. She'd given herself over to him freely. This was about her, her pleasure.
He slid his hand down her trousers and cupped the apex between her thighs. Heat scorched his palm, her arousal scent filling his lungs.
"Please..." Her sob was somewhere between pain and pleasure.
"Tell me what you want, Kasie." He couldn’t hide the hoarseness from his voice. Did he want to hide her effect on him?
"I want you."
The look she gave him through lust glazed eyes was bare and honest and vulnerable. Something sparked to life in the ashes of his heart.
Not wanting to acknowledge it, he pushed the thought aside as he unzipped her trousers, pulling them down enough for his large hand to slip under her lace panties and cover her mound. Her liquid heat scorched his finger as it slid into her welcoming slippery warmth.
A whimper of delight filled the car and her lashes fluttered shut. The cant of her hips as she bucked against his hand when he inserted another finger clawed at his control. At this moment, he wanted to hear her cry out his name. Her inner walls contracted around his fingers, pulling them further in. With his thumb he played with her blossoming nub while his fingers pumped into her.
"Look at me," he said. He wanted her to look at him, to know exactly who was doing this to her, who was giving her pleasure.
Her eyes flew open at his command, her compliance stirring the ashes of his long dead heart. The tightening in his chest caught him off guard.
What was happening to him?
Kasie's moans increased, getting louder, her bucking rocked faster, drawing his attention once more. The street light and shadows didn't hide the beauty of her face, her amber eyes burning with desire, her pink tongue sliding out and licking lips swollen from his kisses.
She was a thing of beauty, to be admired, to be worshiped. Right here, right now, she was his.
Slamming his mouth against hers, he kissed her hard, claiming her in that moment, swallowing her moans.
He knew when she splintered. She tore her lips from his, her wild scream of his name rending the air, her body convulsing for long moments.
Seeing her shatter tore at his control. She was the most beautiful creature he’d seen. Withdrawing his hand from her core, he held her for a few minutes, savouring her softness, keeping her safe until her body stopped trembling, allowing his body to come back under control too.
The band around his chest squeezed, a warm tender haze passing over him, urging him to hold onto Kasie and keep her close. At the same time he remembered the last time he’d given free rein to such emotion.
The image of Ruth Mbadiwe sneering as he confessed his love for her resurfaced in his mind.
The glowing ember of affection fizzled out under the onslaught of memory's damp ashes. Bile rose and soured his mouth. He wouldn’t let another woman get the better of him. Never again.
Disentangling their bodies, he pulled away. Bereft of her body, he focused on picking up her shirt and jacket, placing them beside her on the seat. Then he reached for the door. He needed to get away from her before he did something he would regret. Like making sweet love to her in the back seat of the car. How did she manage to make him lose control so easily?
Her fingers curled around his lower arm, branding him, making him catch his breath.
"Aren't you...?" The uncertain catch in her voice had him looking at her face. Her expression was bewildered, her hair tousled, her lips swollen, her skin glowing.
His hand was already halfway to caress her face when he stopped himself. He had to get a grip.
"What? You think I’d take you right here in the back seat of the car. Me? A driver? I don’t think so. Even drivers are choosy as to who they have sex with."
Even as he said the words, he hated himself. It had to be done. He needed to re-establish the boundaries between them. Otherwise, he would lose himself again. And this time there would be no way back.
For a moment, she gaped at him in shock before the last haze of lust cleared. "You, bastard!"
Her eyes flashed angrily and she swung her hand at him. He caught it in his palm.
"I don’t think so, princess."
With his other hand he picked up her phone laying on the car seat. "Here, now you can call daddy and tell him what a nasty boy I’ve been."
He put the phone in her hand and loosened his grip.
She screeched in anger, the high-pitched sound piercing his soul as she threw the phone at him.
He dodged and it hit the back of the front passenger seat and came apart on the floor.
Michael stepped out of the car and let out the ragged breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He returned to the driver's seat and took one final glance at the woman in the back seat via the rear-view mirror. The sight of a seething Kasie, glaring daggers into his back stayed with him for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.
Chapter Four
"Get dressed," Michael commanded. His voice still had the gravelly edge which had Kasie’s body heating up only minutes ago. Right now, the very sound of it, served to acerbate her. Humiliate her.
Kasie let out another frustrated scream, squeezing her head in her hands tightly. How stupid was she? How could she have allowed him to touch her? Glaring at Michael, he stared back at her coolly, nonchalantly, as if nothing had passed between them, his grey eyes watching her via the rear view mirror.
Not wanting to obey him, she hesitated. How dare he order her about? After what they’d...he’d just done? He’d practically mauled her, ripped her clothes off, his hot hands all over her body. Her face flamed as she remembered, reliving the sensations.
Gosh, she had to be hormonal or something. What other reason was there?
She shoved her arms into her shirt, her movement jerky with irritation. Dissatisfaction.
Who was she kidding? She bit her bottom lip hard, tasting her metallic blood. He hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted. That’s what made it worse.
She’d wanted him. From the first moment she’d first seen him, her hormones had gone berserk. And still reeling from her bust-up with Anthony, she hadn't been in the mood to acknowledge the way Michael had made her feel. It’d been pitiful. Crazy. Exactly the reason she’d wanted to avoid him, to keep her wild urges under control.
So she’d taken it to the extreme. True Kasie Bosa style. Her annoyance at herself had increased her disdain for him.
Rolling her eyes heavenwards, she let out a low frustrated hiss. Except this time she’d chosen the wrong opponent. She’d thought the worst he would've done was to ignore her attitude. He was her chauffeur. She was the boss, the one with the upper hand.
Moreover, because of who her father was, most people simply sucked up to her. Yes, Kasie. No, Kasie. Three bags full, Kasie. Pathetic. For
once someone stood up to her. Challenged her. Excited her.
A quick glance in the rear-view mirror, met with Michael's steely grey eyes.
She’d allowed him to kiss her, touch her, soothe the ache she’d felt within her body. The slow throbbing had burned low all day and erupted when he held her in his arms.
How could she have let it happen? How could she be so susceptible to his devastating charm so soon after her break up with Anthony, when she’d wanted nothing to do with men?
Giving Michael another baleful glare, she buttoned her creased shirt back on. She didn’t bother putting her jacket on. Still annoyed, she stuffed her bra into her hand bag roughly, straightened her trousers, sat back into the seat before putting her seat belt on.
She wouldn’t let Michael get the best of her. Let him see how much his rejection had crushed her? No way. She was still the boss around here.
"I want you to take me back to the hotel," she said as calmly as she could muster. It was an empty order and she knew it. He was already driving, heading in the direction of her hotel. So her words were wasted. He didn’t even react or look at her in the mirror.
Why did she have such a problem with him? Michael thought it was because of his job. Ok, somewhere within her, she’d have preferred if he did something else. She could hardly go around introducing him to her circle of friends.
Then again, if she really cared about him, it wouldn’t matter to her. She made enough money herself to ever really depend on a man financially. But, she didn’t care about Michael—couldn’t care about someone as arrogant as he was. Seriously, who did he think he was?
For the rest of the way to the hotel, neither of them said a word to each other. As the car got closer to the hotel, doubt crept into her mind. She’d been rude and unbearable to Michael. But did he have to humiliate her, show her how much more powerful he was over her?
Her tough exterior was meant to be a deterrent, to protect her. It was a ruse she used to fool the world. To hide the fact that her life wasn’t perfect. She was the odd one out in her family. Alone. The black sheep.
Her sister Kemafor was married and had her family. Her father now had his new family. Her step-mother had given him male children. So he no longer had time for Kasie.
Yet, in the space of a few hours, Michael had seen through her and brought her walls crumbling down. She had to hang on to some dignity. She wouldn’t acquiesce to him and apologise. He’d already gotten what he wanted—her humiliation. Why should she apologise?
It didn’t matter that she felt disappointed or rejected. He’d shown her a little bit of bliss and shunned her. It didn’t matter that her foolish heart ached to see him look at her with the heat and desire she'd seen earlier. None of it mattered. She'd get over his brush-off.
Will you? You break up with your boyfriend a few days before Valentine’s day and your family don’t give you the time of day. Worse, your chauffeur doesn’t even want you. Yes, of course you'll get over it. No one wants you.
The voice in her head taunted her. Who was she kidding? Her carefully constructed life was crumbling. And it was all her fault. Misery wrapped its claws around her. Tears stung her eyes threatening to fall. She bit her lip forcing herself to hold back the tears as her heart ached. She turned her face toward the window, not wanting Michael to see her distraught. She never wanted him to see her tears.
As soon as they arrived at her hotel, she yanked the door open, not waiting for Michael to come around. She grabbed her bag and jacket and fled.
"Kasie!" Michael called out her name. Not looking back, she ignored him and raced into the hotel to her suite.
***
Michael picked up Kasie’s shattered phone from the back seat, rearranging the battery and back cover before pressing the power button. A rock of concern lay heavily in his gut for Kasie. He’d barely stopped the car when she nearly ripped the door off its hinges and took off, leaving her phone behind.
Placing his hands on the hot roof of the car, he kicked the tyre.
Damn! Someone should kick him. He'd been a brute.
Her reaction was his fault. He’d contributed to her sudden dismay. The knowledge sat heavily on his mind. He’d felt a shift in her mood; her silence all the way back to the hotel a very good indicator something was wrong. She hadn’t even bothered to fix her phone to make the call she’d wanted to make earlier.
At the time he’d thought she was going to call her father to have him arrested on some trumped-up charges because he’d spoken back to her. Just like Ruth Mbadiwe had done, accusing him of a crime he’d never committed. Ruth's actions had cost him his army career.
He slammed the car door shut, the old anger welling up in his chest, blurring his vision in red. He’d allowed a woman to make a fool of him once. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.
The sound of a blaring car horn jolted him back to the present. He looked at the phone in his hand.
What had been Kasie’s intention when she held her phone? He was no longer sure. The feeling of remorse crept over him, its wrenching chain tugging at his chest.
Had he accused her falsely? It was possible she’d wanted to call the car service to complain about him, as she’d done this morning. If this was the case then he needed to see her. He had to make sure she was all right. He couldn’t drive away with this guilt hanging over him.
He strode into the hotel lobby, to the reception desk.
"Good evening, Mr Ede. What can I do for you this evening?" the receptionist chirped.
A good thing Kasie wasn’t here, because his cover would have been blown by the receptionist’s familiar and jovial greeting. She’d have wondered how the receptionist knew his name on sight.
"Thank you, Tracy. I need the room number for Miss Kasie Bosa."
"Oh, she just walked into the lifts. Do you want me to call up to her room and tell her you’re here?"
"There’s no need. I’ll just go up. What’s the number?" He beamed a charming smile at her.
Tracy looked it up. "It’s room 330."
"Thank you, Tracy."
"Enjoy your evening, Mr Ede."
Michael ignored the lifts and took the stairs instead. Part-owning, the hotel with his friends had its perks. Tracy wouldn’t have given out the room number without calling up to the guest first. Hotel policy.
Taking the steps three at a time, he got to the third floor and walked down the hallway. 330 was at the end. Taking a deep breath first, he knocked on the door. There was no reply. He knocked again.
He heard a muffled, "Who is it?"
"Room service," he replied. He didn’t think Kasie would open the door if she knew it was him standing outside.
"I didn’t order any room service. Go away."
He knocked again, persistently. After a while, the door swung inwards. Kasie stood there, her face lowered and turned behind the door as if she was hiding it.
"Kasie," the word was torn from his lips when he saw her cowered state.
She jerked her head up. Her eyes – bloodshot, distressed. Her face, tear-stained.
His heart split, pain shooting through him. He knew instantly it was his fault. He’d hurt her.
Growling at his own high-handedness, he stepped into her room before she could react. Scooped her up, kicking the door shut with his foot. He carried her to the sofa, sat her in his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
She broke down again, her quiet sobs racking her body in tremors.
He rocked her body, soothing her with soft words.
"Obi m. Ndo. Ebezina." My heart. I’m sorry. Stop crying.
Chapter Five
Michael held Kasie against his chest, his hand rubbing lightly against her back; his voice low and, he hoped, soothing. He couldn’t explain the tension he felt, the ache in his heart as if someone had hacked it with an axe. He just knew he never wanted to see her like this again, like she’d looked when she’d opened her hotel suite door. Broken. Dejected. Distressed.
Where was the lioness
he’d seen this morning? Where was the woman who’d gotten him so rattled, he’d been thinking of seeking shelter from her missile?
That woman he could deal with. He recognised her for what she was. A target. An opponent. He’d linked no emotions with her except maybe boredom and annoyance.
This one sobbing in his arms was a different proposition. This was a person. With feelings. Which he’d apparently hurt. Now he was the one feeling emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Remorse. Sadness. Disgust.
He’d allowed his past experience with Ruth Mbadiwe to mar his encounter with Kasie. It had clouded his judgement. His friends were right. He wasn’t over Ruth if he was still punishing every other woman for her offences. He should’ve known better than to allow Kasie to goad him. No matter what.
What had happened to the man who’d sworn to protect the vulnerable? Had he been so blinded by his own past pain, he couldn’t see through Kasie’s aggression? It was simply a cloak for her susceptibility?
A low growl rumbled in his belly. His grip tightened on Kasie’s back. He took a few deep breaths before he loosened his hold on her.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, his words strangled in his throat.
He’d do whatever it took to make it up to her. If she’d ever forgive him. He took the sign that she let him hold her to be good. Maybe she’d forgive him.
He continued rocking her gently, steadily. Her body’s tremors calmed and her sobs quietened. He removed his white handkerchief from his trouser pocket, wiping her face. She didn’t look at him and kept her eyes lowered.
"Excuse me," she said quietly before wriggling off his lap and going into the bathroom.
While she was in there, he looked around the room. It was luxurious, clean and tidy, a mid-executive suite. Impersonal. Lonely.
Why did she choose to stay in a hotel, instead of an apartment since she was in Enugu quite regularly?
Earlier on today, while she’d been working, he’d been doing some investigation and found out some things about her and her family. It was a good thing he had connections in Enugu, especially in Apex Bank, since it was one of his biggest clients in the city.
