18. Hades
Hades
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Past
All I can think is that this is some kind of joke from fate.
My three encounters with Kennedy have made it impossible to ignore her, which for any man, after what she just said—that she wasn't interested in the manager because "I usually choose men who are available—prettier and richer too"—would be the most prudent thing to do.
So why the hell don't I just open my notebook and fulfill my mission as a good Samaritan by taking her home, in silence, while I look for some work to do?
Because I'm not a good Samaritan in the first place.
I could have asked a driver to drop her off at a taxi stand and if she didn't have money—which she doesn’t, judging by the simple clothes she's wearing—pay for the ride to make sure she got home safely.
However, all I can do is stare at her beautiful face.
Kennedy is wet, strands of her voluminous hair stuck to her face. With the heavy makeup she was wearing at the casino now slightly smudged, mascara running from one corner of those deep blue eyes, she continues to hold me captivated like no other woman ever has.
I watch her with the attention a scholar would give to a puzzle he's working on, trying to understand what about her fascinates me so much. If what those idiots said is true, combined with what Kennedy herself declared, she's not the kind of woman who would normally pique my interest.
"I can make us last longer than just a few minutes. Come with me," I hear myself say in response to her statement, as if my mouth and brain were disconnected.
But no matter how much I deny it, I know that now that I have her within reach, I won't stop until I possess her.
Kennedy
Past
I need to repeat what he said in my brain to believe that this man just made it clear that he's interested in me.
I feel my body temperature rise, but I don't move or open my mouth to respond. I hope and pray I can disguise the confusion of emotions flooding me. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough for now."
A little voice in the back of my mind says that that wasn't necessarily a compliment and that my savior already has a preconceived notion about me, but I silence it. "Minutes," I say, and I see a small "v" forming between his brows.
"Minutes? What does that mean?"
"That's all we have. I'm not going to your house."
I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't for one corner of his mouth to lift into an almost smile. "I don't have a house here. I don't live in New Orleans."
I feel my face heating up, at the same time wondering whether he's playing with me and didn't mean it seriously when he hinted that we could spend more time together than this ride will last. "You understood what I meant."
"Yes, I did. Will you tell me why you won't come with me?"
"I don't know you."
"And would you need to know me to stay with me tonight?"
Instead of answering and making myself even more of a fool, letting him think I'm a hick, I evade the question. "You said you could make our encounter today last longer than just a few minutes in the car. How?"
He stares at me for so long that I have to make an effort not to move, agonizing over whether I understood much more in his words than he intended to say. Then, without any warning, his arm moves with the speed of a feline, and I feel his hand grip the back of my neck.
"I'm not someone you should get involved with, Kennedy, and my intuition tells me the opposite is also true."
I make a tremendous effort to put my neurons to work because the sensation of his touch is delicious. "Why not?"
"Something tells me that now that I've touched you, our lives will change forever."
"And do you always follow your intuition?"
"In some cases, yes."
"Will you follow it today?" I ask, and my voice comes out hoarse, a sensation I've never experienced before taking over my body as I feel his fingers entwining in my hair.
"No. Not today."
His other hand holds my jaw, and it's so large that it encompasses the entire left side of my face. I'm at the mercy of this man, trapped in him and by him, and I've never felt so good before.
I want to stay firm, not seem like a teenager enchanted by her first prince, but I can't help but close my eyes and wait for his kiss.
Hades
Past
I am a sinner by nature, and my favorite sin, without a doubt, is lust.
Although I don't get involved emotionally because I don't consider myself capable of going that far in a relationship, when I desire a woman, I don't stop until I extract the last drop of pleasure we can give each other.
Desire. That's the word I use to define when a woman catches my attention, but the tension that dominated my body the moment I touched Kennedy can't be described that way.
I found her beautiful when I saw her in the boardroom, scared in the hallway, and wet in the rain, but having Kennedy in my hands, touching her, brings me an inexplicable feeling of possession, a dark and territorial hunger for her.
As I bring our mouths closer, I know that what I told her a moment ago—that getting involved with each other is a mistake—is true, but I also know that this certainty won't stop me from having her.
The impulse that leads me to her is primitive, hungry.
Even in the darkness inside the car, I see her pink lips slightly parted, her eyes closed, having completely surrendered herself to me, the very image of temptation.
I hear the gasp of her breath, and as her eyes open in the last second before our mouths touch, I could swear I hear her heart echoing.
I let myself drown in her eyes.
I close the small distance between us, feeling her warmth against me. The softness of her skin under my hands, the delicacy of her body, her scent—everything acts like a kind of narcotic in my brain and senses.
When I finally take her mouth, the sensation is like boiling blood, like lava from an active volcano spreading beneath my flesh.
Our lips fit together perfectly, as if the woman's mouth had been designed for my pleasure, two puzzle pieces meant to be joined.
I don't know what I expected. Another kiss among the many I've given? The certainty that Kennedy is nothing special compared to other women I've had?
Whatever illusion I created by trying to label the lust she aroused in me as nothing new disappears the moment I receive her fiery response to my kiss.
And then, as my tongue explores the wet heat inside her full lips, my teeth nibble on them, and her body molds to mine, a thought crosses my mind.
Kennedy will be my downfall.
After her, any other woman who comes along will have her as a benchmark for comparison.
The car jerks when the driver suddenly brakes, causing her to stop the kiss.
She stares at me with her eyes still somewhat clouded with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she seems to try to recover.
I see a storm, confusion in her gaze, as if she doesn't understand what just happened.
As for me, the wild passion that a simple kiss aroused in me makes me certain that I want much more.
"Come with me tonight," I repeat.
"I—”
She doesn't get to answer me because the sound of her phone ringing interrupts us.