Chapter 12
Maeve
For a heartbeat, the world stops spinning. I’m frozen in place while the room fades away. The lamp, the desk, the files…
Only Kellin and I remain.
“You could ask.” His statement lacks the smooth, controlled cadence of the businessman and strategist I’ve come to know. Instead, the harsh rasp sounds like a man unbuttoned. “But I’d rather spend this time on more enjoyable pursuits.”
Kellin’s gaze drops to my mouth, and he grazes his knuckles over my jawline. His touch sets fire to every nerve in my body.
Desire ignites like a bright flame in the dark.
The memory of Shout’s fingers on my skin vanishes, replaced by the gentle pressure of Kellin’s featherlight touch.
Heat coils low in my belly as his head dips.
Before I can catch my breath, his lips crash into mine, demanding and desperate.
The kiss I longed for, twenty-four hours later. On his terms instead of mine.
Bastard.
Fire and fury collide.
My body betrays me, skin heating, lungs struggling for air.
I reach up to tangle my fingers in his short curls. He groans when I tug, the noise echoing deep in my chest.
Kellin’s hands find my waist and hoist me flush against his chest.
Every fiber within me hums with awareness.
Where our bodies connect, every inch of skin tingles.
I can’t remember the last time I craved someone with this degree of intensity.
Not in months. Maybe even years.
In fact, have I ever desired a man this much?
The answer bursts into my head immediately. No.
And now, I’m drowning.
I arch into him, gasping as his hands brand me with their warmth. Burning until my entire being combusts into flames like gasoline ignited by a match.
The desk bites into my back as he pins me with his hips and brushes his lips over mine.
Once. Twice. Three times. Teasing me until I writhe with frustration.
When I release an aggravated huff, he finally provides the pressure I so desperately crave and slips his tongue inside my mouth, tasting me until I moan.
I glide my hands down to his chest, mapping the solid muscles with my palms. The Italian silk slides under my fingertips as I curl them into the smooth fabric.
Once his thumb grazes the pulse point at my throat, all rational thoughts flee. I forget where we are, what we’re doing, who we’re supposed to be, and dissolve into a puddle of need.
Yes, this, now! I want—
My phone rings, shattering the moment.
The shrill noise echoes and restores my focus. I jerk back, my chest rising and falling too fast.
What am I doing?
I kissed him.
I let him kiss me.
Sure, this scenario is exactly what I hoped for last night. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.
Securing the deal should be my top priority.
I pull away to check the caller ID. Lenora. She doesn’t call this late unless it’s urgent. “Sorry, Kellin. I should—”
He captures my wrist, closing his hand on mine with immovable pressure. Not hard, but firm, absolute. The grip of a man used to seizing control.
Beneath his fingers, my skin tingles. Awareness floods every nerve.
I wet my lips as my gaze flits over his face.
Kellin’s eyes meet mine. Then—just as quickly—he releases me.
The charming smile returns, along with the guise of the polished businessman. He gestures to my phone, now silent on the desk. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”
As the oxygen reinflates my starved lungs, I watch him gather the prospectus and notes and organize everything into neat stacks.
My brow furrows. That’s…it?
He kisses me and then acts like nothing happened?
Meanwhile, my chest continues heaving under my blouse. Yet he barely appears winded.
I huff. Jerk.
Kellin adjusts his cufflinks with an irritating amount of poise. “You’ll receive my full report in forty-eight hours. I’ll let myself out.”
Back to business. No evidence of the hot-as-hell kiss we just shared.
Even his curls show no sign of my fingers’ liberties.
He walks out the door, his strides fluid and controlled. No backward glance.
No good night.
In his absence, the quiet screams.
I rub the spot where he touched my wrist. No mark—he didn’t grip me hard enough for that—but the spot still burns. Both with heat and the question left behind.
Was I saved by the bell?
As the adrenaline from the last hour fades from my system, my knees weaken. I collapse into my chair and bring my fingers to my tingling, swollen lips. Both Kellin’s taste and musky-sweet scent linger, teasing me.
I stare at the phone, as if Lenora’s name might flash again and rescue me.
My brain wars with my body, which craves nothing more than to sink into pleasure, consequences be damned.
Do I want Kellin in my bed? Absolutely.
But I need him in order to liberate myself from my father’s iron grip. To help me obtain the key to my freedom. Kellin’s not a King, not involved with my father’s criminal underworld. The investment deal he offers could pry me out from under Dad’s oppressive thumb for good.
Forgetting that—even for a moment—could ruin everything.
Yes, Kellin’s interest in me is crystal clear.
But can I have my cake and eat it too? Can I claim both the investor and the man beneath that perfect suit?
Kellin dons an impeccable mask. On the surface, he plays the role of the perfect businessman, exhibiting both charisma and composure. Obviously, he knows how to broker a deal…and how to stop one cold. But now I’ve witnessed what simmers beneath all that easy charm.
A man prepared to murder Shout on my behalf.
The man whose eyes blazed with desire in the moments before our kiss.
That glimpse should issue a distinct warning. Instead, I see an invitation.
Even though I shouldn’t, I want more of the man under the mask.
I press my palms against my face. “You’re out of your mind.” My whisper reverberates in the quiet office.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been out of my mind since the second Kellin Jameson sauntered into my hotel.
When I finally pick up the phone to return the missed call, my head is spinning. I try my best to hide the wreckage. “Hi, Lenora.”
“Hey, boss.” She’s bright, perky, and as animated as she would be first thing in the morning. “Quick question for you. Do you want me to confirm tomorrow’s catering order now or wait for the tasting notes from Chef Moreau?”
“Lenora, it’s late. Why are you still here? You’re no good to me if you can’t keep your eyes open tomorrow.” While I reside in a suite here, she lives halfway across town. “We’ll finalize everything in the morning. Go home.”
“Copy that. You sound…different. Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I wouldn’t even know how to begin explaining. “Just can’t wait to curl up under my new down duvet.”
“Understandable. And don’t worry. I’m out the door myself in five. You know, you might live here, but even the front desk technically closes down sometimes. Get some rest, okay?”
I can’t summon the energy to be annoyed at her nagging when I know she means well. “You too, Len. Be safe driving home.”
I stare at the screen for a long time after the line goes dead, reliving Kellin’s kiss.
When I finally switch off the lights and lock the office, the hallway is too quiet. The click of my heels on the marble bounces off the walls and ceilings.
Even with Declan’s men camped on every floor, the hotel settles into its routine nighttime rhythm. Tonight feels different, though, like the building’s in on a secret.
Inside the elevator, my reflection stares back at me in the mirrored doors. I inspect my flushed cheeks, unkempt hair, and slightly parted mouth. If my dad or brothers joined me for the ride, I’d never escape the humiliation.
I look like a woman who’s been kissed thoroughly.
As the elevator glides upward, I catch a trace of Kellin’s scent…earthy and musky with a dash of sweaty passion. I grip the railing, clamping my eyes shut.
Kellin Jameson is dangerous. I don’t know his ties, and I doubt he understands the depths of mine, but he claims his firm wants to partner with me.
But at what cost? If I give in to Kellin, will I lose control of the hotel? Of myself?
Will I even care?
I’m not sure anymore.
The elevator slides open on the sixth floor, and I hesitate, listening before I venture out into the corridor. I check each corner before I proceed toward my suite. My hand’s in my pocket, fisted around the pepper spray I wish I’d kept closer earlier.
My father’s men drift in and out of the halls like ghosts, and I’d prefer to avoid another run-in with Shout.
No voices. No footsteps. All clear.
I enter my room, bolt the door behind me, and exhale.
My wrist still tingles. My lips still burn.
My mind still plays the velvet-laced gravel of Kellin’s voice—of the real man behind the mask—deep and sure and slightly frayed at the edges.
I should be furious. Or upset. I should be calling someone—anyone—to talk me through this.
Instead, I sag back against the door.
I can still feel his mouth, his breath, his intensity. I wonder which part of him to trust, the man who says not yet or the one who seizes what he wants until the world interrupts.
Both, maybe. And that’s the issue.
Despite his easy charm, the hints of darkness peeking beneath the surface remind me a little too much of the assholes populating my father’s world.
Men who consume rather than love.
For once, I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind being consumed if it means burning down all that my father built and rising, reborn, from the ashes.
Unfortunately, the flames could just as easily destroy me.
A conundrum for another day. For tonight, I check the hallway one last time, double-lock the door, and let the ghost of Kellin’s touch haunt me in my bed as I tumble into a restless sleep.