by Angel Payne
“Of course.” She snorted.
“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. 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 before but always laughed at the metaphor. Fate knew how to teach me a hell of a lesson, didn’t it?
I was midsentence 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 sensations 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 at 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 nonissue 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. Killian brushed the hair from my forehead and 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 into 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.
The images fought each other while my stare tangled with his. There were so many layers to his eyes, so much beauty in his face. It was official. I’d met the most glorious man of my life. His body was pure heat as he rubbed mine in sinuous thrusts, a blatant promise of possibilities to come. But Margaux’s threats, while delivered with the social finesse of a seventh grader, weren’t empty. The woman had done worse to adversaries simply in the name of the company’s projects. Delivering on behalf of her personal spite would be even less of a screw to turn. She’d destroy me—and in the process, Dad too.
And what about her mother’s joy as possible collateral damage in the hit? My blood chilled from the answer. The apple never falls far from the tree. Margaux had learned her technique from the best of the bitchy best. Something told me Andrea would be just fine, with or without Dad at her side. The same instinct didn’t hold true when I thought about Dad having to deal with his child in prison and his engagement broken.
Which meant this recklessness needed to end here and now.
I clutched my blouse with one hand and pushed at Killian with the other. He reared back, bringing a blast of chilled air across my body. I hated this. I didn’t want him to stop. But I had to—before it was too late.
“We— We have to stop.” My voice was thick with desperation, clinging to a last vestige of common sense. He didn’t hear it. More likely, chose not to.
“No,” he whispered, scraping back my hair again. “It’s all right this time. It’s perfect this time.”
To my shock, I laughed. “This is your idea of perfect?”
He tugged on my hair, compelling my eyes to meet his while heat sluiced through my whole body in reaction. “This is my idea of perfect.” He stroked a thumb across my cheek in emphasis.
“Killian—”
“We’re safe here, Claire.” He pressed back down, lowering his forehead to mine. “Everything. All of it. All our desires…all our secrets…”
With the single word, he turned my body into an ice floe. “Secrets are exactly why we have to stop.”
He fought me with a harsh breath. “Then give yours to me. All of them. I’ll keep them safe. I promise.”
My laughter dissolved into a sob. “You can’t keep that promise, Killian. Nobody can.”
His fingers, so long and warm, bracketed my head. “Then leave them behind and stay with me anyway.”
It was a plea as deep as his coal-dark eyes. A promise of the sweetest pleasure I’d likely ever know, the most incredible sex I’d probably ever have, the kisses and embraces of the most breathtaking man I’d ever met.
I squeezed my eyes shut again. I’d regret this moment forever, that much was clear already. But staying would equate to the biggest mistake of my life. Margaux and her threats, while the easy reach for explaining my strife, were really only the start of my conflict. The bigger peril came from the heart ramming at my ribs with agonizing force—the acknowledgment that my secrets weren’t the most dangerous thing Killian could now wrest from me—another rash risk I’d resolved never to take again.
“Y-You’re leaving for Beijing tonight,” I finally stammered. Though the words were shaky, they lent enough strength to roll free and regain my footing. “Even if you weren’t, this isn’t going to work.” I peered around for my trench. “There are so many reasons why this isn’t going to work.”
How could I trust the man with my secrets when I’d abandoned trust in my own heart and soul from the night I’d found Nick with Darcie? When the choice of trusting a man with my secrets had become a mistake to haunt me for years?
Finally spotting the coat, I grabbed it and headed for the door as if the room had caught on fire. I wasn’t sure it hadn’t.
“Claire… Damn it!” Killian’s tone was full of more tension than his shoulders, still hunched over the desk. In an unwanted moment of transcendence, I saw my body in the space below him once more. Hot for him. Spread for him. Wanting him.
I grimaced and turned. “If there is really an issue with the press release, email me, okay? And Killian? Please—”
Don’t do this again.
I fell into silence, unable to speak it. Unable to think it.
I bolted before he could say another word, stumbling through the living room with its sleek cream-on-black décor and its panoramic view of the lake, wondering if I’d pass out on his butter-soft rug before getting to the door. Once again, being in his presence had the power to suck every breath from my body. What the hell was his power over me? I’d never known such intense feelings for another person. Was this what the experts meant by animal attraction? Was this some pheromone thing, a crazy concoction brought on by his cologne meeting mine? Was it even more basic than that? Had my moon ascended into his karma at just the right time, some cosmic bullshit Chad could explain?
Whatever the hell it was, I had to make it stop. Otherwise, I might not survive this damn assignment.
I flung myself out into the hallway and stabbed the elevator call button while battling to pull myself together and assess the answer to one question.
What the hell had just happened?
I must see you again.
I turned the card over again before setting it down on the small table in my hotel room. Nearby, my room-service order sat nearly demolished. Something about pizza, macaroni and cheese, and apple pie was a perfect beginning for a night when a girl wanted to stay inside and wallow. My favorite flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks helped the effort, along with the in-room movie channel cued up with Sixteen Candles.
Yep. Wallowing. Big time.
I’d ordered the dinner with a whole bottle of wine and poured myself a third glass. It was a really good cabernet, and I tried to focus on all the oaky overtones that the label bragged about instead of the man I’d left behind in that condo overlooking the lake. “Don’t do it,” I seethed at myself. “Don’t you dare.”
It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was, how great he kissed, how good he smelled, or how fantastic I knew he would be in bed—I had to purge Killian Stone from my system. After a long bath, a ton of carbs, and all the wine, I thought I’d be well on my way to that goal by now.
Instead, I sat on the bed and stared at that damn card.
I’d pitched it into the trash twice, only to fish it out again and set it somewhere safe. I dialed my dad once and hung up, deciding he didn’t need his half-plastered daughter crying on his shoulder—or giving him a reason to have
a “chat” with Andrea about my mental stability. Chad and Michael had called and damn near dictated I’d be going for some good sushi and bad karaoke with them, but I’d declined, needing a chunk of self-pity time. The makeup was officially scrubbed, my hair pulled back in an old scrunchie, and I was set to finish my food coma with some John Hughes therapy.
If only the note would stop taunting me.
“Small steps,” I muttered, taking an encouraging sip and forcing my sights on the TV. “At least you’re not crying.”
I’d just hit the Play button for the movie when there was a knock at the door. I huffed and slammed my glass down, glaring across the room. Couldn’t a girl be miserable in peace?
Trudging over, I started my rant at Chad during the last two steps to the portal. “Listen, you little bitch, you’ll just have to find another Freebird partner tonight, so—”
My mouth dropped in an open gawk.
Alfred stared back, surprise in his kind eyes.
“Fred?”
“Good evening, Miss Montgomery.” He lifted a polite smile.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone from my team, and—” I frowned again. “Wait. Why are you here?” Guess I wasn’t done being rude, after all.
“I’m delivering a message for you.”
“A message? From who?”
He only had to arch one eyebrow before I blushed, recognizing the silliness of the query. Fortunately, he didn’t waste any more time before pulling a small envelope from his breast pocket—a perfect match to the missive he’d given me earlier.
“Thanks.” Feeling like the card would bite if I weren’t careful, I accepted it and then gawked at it. My mouth turned into the Sahara again. My pulse throbbed in the base of my throat. Though I told myself to stop being silly, I watched the envelope tremble in my fingers.
After a huge breath, I realized poor Fred was still standing there. I attempted a smile and murmured, “Thanks again, Fred. Have a good night.”
