Killian has slept on the chaise lounge in my bedroom every night since the Elixir incident a week ago. He’s never here when I wake, but the scent of his masculine cologne lingers in my bedroom. It’s both comforting and confronting. The more time I spend with him, the more I want him, which is problematic because he’s more closed-off than a Carthusian monk. He hasn’t once surrendered to the physical attraction between us for his own pleasure. The man’s self-control is iron clad. Until it comes to giving me pleasure.
Jasper purrs on the pillow beside me. I rub his soft fur. ‘Of all the men in the world, why do I have to want the one I unequivocally can’t have?’
I sigh, throw back the covers and go in search of coffee. It’s been another week of stylists, photoshoots and interviews and I’m frankly exhausted with the whole thing. Yes, I love some elements, but a lot of it is mundane. Repetitive. Mind numbing. I’m praying that things work out with ELEGANCE. I’ve got so much more to give than just my body. And besides, my time as a glamour model will come to an end one way or another, and I’m determined to lead the narrative on the when and how.
We haven’t deviated from the schedule once and there have been no more lilies or notes. I still don’t know what the one in the club said and I’m not sure I want to. What I do know is that when Killian is breathing the same air as me, I feel safe. Safe—but sexually frustrated. He hasn’t touched me since the club, and I haven’t even been able to touch myself with him sleeping in my room.
Ha, I should do it anyway and make him watch. Now there’s an idea.
I pad barefoot into the kitchen. It might be mid-winter outside but in here, it’s hotter than hell, mostly due to my hot bodyguard who’s perched at the island with his laptop and a coffee. He’s wearing navy suit pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms again.
Who even knew forearms could be sexy? The urge to lick every raised vein and artery is primal.
He looks up from the screen as I enter. ‘Do you have to walk around half naked all the time?’ He says gruffly.
I glance down at my short silk slip. ‘If you think this is half naked, wait until we get to Tuesday’s photoshoot. It’s for a new Angel Nova perfume. And guess what I’m wearing?’ I waggle my eyebrows at him as he stares back with that deadpan expression. ‘The perfume—just the perfume. It’s called Nova Natural.’
‘I see it’s our friend Thorne who’s taking the photos.’ Killian scowls, but he rises from his seat and heads to the coffee machine, grabbing oat milk from the fridge as he passes it. ‘He was out of the country last week when we were at Elixir, so I suppose that rules him out, but I still don’t fucking trust him.’
‘He’s harmless. Weird, but harmless.’
‘I’ve cancelled your appearance at Hustle tonight.’ He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to stamp my feet or shout.
‘Good.’ I exhale a sigh of relief as I slip into the seat opposite the one he just vacated.
‘I thought you’d fight me about it.’
‘Not after last week.’ A shudder rips over my spine. ‘You didn’t tell me what the note said.’ Knowledge is power, I suppose. Maybe this creep will reveal something about his identity by accident.
The coffee machine whirs to life. Killian adds my sweeteners to a white china cup. It’s a shame he’s so off-limits. The man would make an amazing boyfriend, arrestingly attractive and thoughtful—not to mention he has the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. I press my legs together just thinking about it. There’s no point trying to deny it–even to myself.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I want his body, but I also want to break into his head, and I want to tug his heartstrings, the way he tugs mine. Beneath his hard exterior, there is a man with a huge heart, a man who’s loyal beyond belief, a man who sleeps upright on a chaise lounge to make me feel safe, makes my coffee just the way I like it, who claims me when he thinks someone else is edging in… but I need more, so much more. I need him to claim me because he wants to, not because he’s making a point.
‘Sure you want to know what it said?’ He stirs the coffee, then places it in front of me, sliding back into his own seat opposite.
‘Not really, but tell me anyway.’ I cradle the cup in my hands, but even that doesn’t take away the chills washing over my skin.
Killian reaches into his trouser pocket and tosses the white tiny card over the table.
Their fighting over you is pointless—we all know you belong to me.
See you soon.
‘He’s wrong, you know.’ I blow on my coffee and take a sip. It’s dark, strong and decadently rich. Just like the man I’m becoming increasingly obsessed with.
‘I know he’s wrong.’ His eyes hold mine with that alarming intensity. ‘I wasn’t fighting over you. I would though, if it came to it. I’d kill every man on the planet for you.’
An image of Anton Roche flashes through my mind. Did Killian…? I shake it away. Ignorance is bliss. ‘You’d kill every man on the planet for me, but you won’t have sex with me.’
‘It’s not won’t, sweetheart.’ A pained expression flickers over his features. ‘It’s can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘We’ve been over this. You know why.’ He swallows and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs.
His remark the other night replays through my mind. ‘If I let you touch me, you’d take more than I’m prepared to give.’
‘We both know you’re not being honest with me. There’s a lot more to it than the “I’m your client”. You won’t even let me pay you—so that excuse won’t stand with me. And I know you think I’m irritating and reckless, yada yada yada,’ I roll my eyes. ‘But I also know that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.’ I cover my eyes with my hands. ‘Oh my god, I can’t believe I admitted that out loud.’
‘No point pretending you’re shy now,’ he says drily.
‘I’m not shy, not when it comes to my body anyway, but when it comes to other things…’
He thrums his thick fingers on the island with a faraway look in his eye.
‘Okay, I want my three questions. I’m calling them in early today.’ I inch closer over the counter.
‘Then you won’t be able to ask me anymore for at least another twenty-four hours,’ he reminds me. ‘Sure you’ll be able to last?’
‘I’ll have to.’ I study his face, taking in his strong bone structure, Roman nose, square jawline peppered with a generous amount of stubble that I am dying to feel between my legs again. Dark soulful eyes that a woman could drown in.
‘Fine. Shoot,’ his tone sounds bored, but a flicker of interest registers in his pupils. I think he’s secretly beginning to enjoy this game as much as I am.
‘If I wasn’t your client, would you have sex with me?’
His gaze dips to my lips for a second, then back to meet my eye. ‘No.’
Ouch. His rejection stings like a slap. ‘Why not?’
‘That’s question number two.’ He slams his laptop closed. ‘You sure it’s the one you want to ask?’
‘It’s the one I need to ask.’ I swallow the lump forming at the back of my throat.
‘We’re too different.’ He clasps his fingers together in front of him, the tips turn white with how tightly they’re interlinked.
‘Bullshit.’ I bang my coffee cup down on the table. ‘That’s not an answer. You’re fobbing me off.’
Different shouldn’t matter if it’s just sex. Different is only a problem when it comes to relationships—and even then, they say opposites attract. Sure, there’s the obvious Scarlett and James connection. We’d run into each other from time to time afterwards, but I don’t think it’s that.
What is he hiding from me?
Is it that he can’t have casual sex with me without it meaning something?
Is it the loss of his previous girlfriend? Is he terrified to let anyone close again in case he loses them?
Or something else entirely?
‘You have one more question, Avery. Then I’m going to shower—alone.’ He grimaces.
‘Final question.’ I stare into his deep dark eyes. ‘And I want a full answer. Not three words. I want an explanation.’
He blows out a long, slow breath. ‘Fine.’
‘What are you so afraid of? Is it letting someone in? Is it losing them? Is it losing control?’
He rests an elbow on the table like he’s steadying himself. He’s silent for several long seconds and I hold my breath, wondering if I pushed him too far.
‘That’s four questions.’ He arches an eyebrow pointedly. ‘But the answer to all of them is that I’m not afraid of losing anyone or anything.’
‘Liar!’ I yell.
‘I haven’t finished.’ He holds up his palms in a peace sign. ‘I’m afraid of finding something that I never wanted, or looked for. Of stumbling across the one thing that I’ve actively avoided. Love. And I can’t love something—someone who will never truly be mine.’ He stands then and storms out of the room.
He has no idea.
Whether I want to be or not, I’m already his.
He has me hook, line, and sinker.
