Chapter 18 #2
“My stress levels are fine.” I relax in my seat, my eyes drifting over the lights above us. “I learned how to manage my emotions on my own early on. When we were younger, Brody and I were close, so I did lean on him a little more.”
I don’t know why I’m explaining all this. I doubt Kellin cares about my messed-up family history.
So many years have passed without me really talking about Brody and Connor. Or to them. Really talking, I mean. But mentioning the bond I once shared with Brody peels a weight off my chest.
When I stop speaking, Kellin brushes featherlight fingers against my arm. Encouraging.
Emboldened, I keep going. “We were so close, I felt like we were best friends. Eventually, though, he grew this gigantic chip on his shoulder, and we just drifted apart and never managed to reconnect the same way.”
Kellin shifts closer, his knee pressing against mine. “Why do you think that is?”
“How much time do you have?” I laugh, but even I hear the hollowness. “It’s a long story.”
He tilts his head, gaze on my face. On my freckles. His eyes bounce between them before he uses a single finger to connect the dots.
The simple caress lights up my nerves. I’ve never cared either way about my freckles, but the way he lingers on them fills my heart with dangerous warmth.
“I have the time.” He captures my hand, tracing his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
I fight off the shiver that inches down my spine from the contact.
“You really don’t. Not for my sad childhood story.
” I scrunch up my face and rip my hand away to fidget with a loose lock of hair at my shoulder.
“The abridged version is that I was twelve when my mom died, and Brody was ten. Really hard, vulnerable ages. And my family is incapable of discussing tragedy in any sort of healthy way. My mother’s death introduced the first fracture into our relationship, but we grew further apart later. ”
Why am I spilling all this like a broken wine bottle? I’m such an idiot.
I pull out my phone, seeking any excuse to ignore Kellin and the growing heat in my cheeks.
I could kiss my calendar app when a notification pops up.
“I’m sorry, I have a meeting with a vendor in a few minutes.
” I flip the screen around to prove it’s not a lie, though I’m not sure why I need to explain myself.
I grab his empty glass in one hand, mine in the other, and all but sprint toward the door, my four-inch heels clacking on the wood flooring.
“Maeve.”
The husky way he calls my name melts over my body like liquid smoke and velvet.
My legs stop before my mind tells them to. I hide a shudder by spinning back toward him. “Yes?”
Kellin takes his time catching up with me. “I needed this break too.” He leans in, his breath on my cheek. Earthy spice from the drink and his delicious scent wash over me.
For a moment, we’re not on the roof of my hotel, but a million miles away on a tropical beach.
“And thank you for sharing.” He swings an arm around my waist. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
Not a request.
A warning.
Kellin devours my neck, sucking from my collarbone up to my earlobe. My knees weaken, my entire body swooning at the intense burst of painful pleasure.
Except there’s one problem. “Um, glassware!” I can’t even touch him because I have an empty cordial glass in each hand.
Not fair.
The thought to just let them fall crosses my mind.
His laugh rumbles through my torso as he switches sides to ensure both receive equal attention.
“Just enjoy yourself.” His lips climb up my neck to meet my other ear, where he nips my lobe.
The tiny pinch of pain shoots straight to my core.
His tongue travels along my jawline, slowly mapping its way to my lips.
Both of his hands curve around my lower back, locking me in place as our mouths meld, his tongue stroking mine in a simulation of sex that causes my thighs to clench.
His arms are basically holding me up at this point, forcing all my weight against him. The casual display of strength buzzes electrical pulses to my clit.
The high-pitched crack of two cordial glasses smashing against the wooden floor barely penetrates my blissful fog. I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging closer, clinging tighter.
More, more, more.
He walks me backward to the bar and lifts me against the counter, his hands on the back of my thighs keeping them in vice grips I have no urge to escape.
I hike up my skirt to wrap a leg around his waist. He squeezes my ass with both hands as he presses me into his erection, and I groan into his mouth.
An ember flares in my stomach. Like wildfire cascading out of control, the heat spreads, blazing through every limb and cell until I can’t hear anything beyond the thud of my own heart.
From somewhere above, a noise pierces through the haze. My pulse leaps as my panicked gaze darts to the penthouse.
Nothing. But that could change at any moment. The last thing I need is for my father to catch me making out like a teen while on the job.
“Kellin.” I pull back, panting like I just ran a marathon. “I have that meeting.”
“I know.” His tongue teases me once more before he steps away. He challenges more of my resolve when he brushes the edge of my panties as he does.
I want nothing more than to grab his hand and shove it beneath the fabric, but I manage to control myself. My feet find the floor, and I shimmy my skirt back down over my thighs. “Rain check?”
His gaze follows my skirt, and my stomach swoops at the fire I find there.
After a breath, he nods and smiles. “Of course.”
“I’ll text you later.”
As I flip the switch to end our starry night, I can’t help but sneak another glimpse of the penthouse to make sure Dad or Connor didn’t wander out to enjoy the first sunset of their lives.
Safe. For now.
Three unbearably long hours later, I finally shut my computer down for the night and glance at the clock.
Has the moment passed for Kellin? Should I just call it a night and leave well enough alone until tomorrow?
Mixing pleasure with business is not for amateurs, and I’d hate to jeopardize the deal.
I tap my nails on the desk for what seems like an eternity.
In the end, my libido wins.
I have a 2020 Chateau Lafite Rothschild if you’re interested. See you in 30?
My tension climbs when three dots appear.
Yes and yes.
Relief swells.
We’re on.
Though I should’ve said forty-five minutes, because now I want to change, shower, and redo my makeup. Hopefully, he doesn’t overly prepare for our…date?
Booty call?
Whatever this is.
I forgo the elevator—too antsy to hang around waiting—and hustle up the first flight of stairs with Kellin on the brain.
As I round the corner to the next flight, I slam right into the back of one of my father’s goons.
My insides chill when the man whips around.
Shout.
We haven’t crossed paths since the altercation in my office.
He stares, his reptilian eyes slithering over me like a snake. My heart thunders so loudly, I’m surprised it’s not echoing in this stairwell.
“Sorry.” I force a smile that hurts my cheeks. “Didn’t mean to run into you like that. Have a good night.”
I skirt around him on the landing, keeping him in my peripheral vision.
If I can just get up to my floor—
A sweaty hand closes around my wrist and yanks.
Shout shoves me face-first against the wall, twisting my arm up at an uncomfortable angle. “Oh, I’m definitely having a good night now.” His wet mouth presses against my ear. “Play as hard to get as you want. I like it when they fight.”
Ice water pumps through my veins. I try to push him off, but he crushes my arm between my chest and the wall. With him pressed up against my back, I lack the necessary leverage to force him off.
The cold stone scrapes my cheek.
My breath sits thick in my chest.
No one knows I’m here.
“Get off!” I struggle, thrashing as much as I can, kicking my legs back toward his shins.
He shoves even harder against me, his shoulder pinning my face and muffling my cries. I shudder when his free hand slides over my thighs, up my skirt—
I bite his shoulder as hard as I can, tasting the cotton of his shirt.
“Bitch!” He whirls me around, backhanding my face so violently, I hear the crack of his fingers against my cheekbone.
Though the burst of pain shocks me, I manage to fight past the sensation and fumble for the mace in my pocket. I grab the small bottle, aim, and spray.
He curses, ducks, swings wildly with his arms, and knocks the weapon from my fingers.
The bottle rattles as it tumbles away from me, the sharp smell of peppers stinging my eyes.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Shout swipes furiously at his right eye. The left one glares with a sinister gleam.
“You like it rough. I can work with that.”
Terror and rejection both escalate.
No.
I won’t let this happen.
Adrenaline explodes in my blood. With a burst of strength, I push past him and launch myself toward the staircase.
I manage two steps before Shout smashes me into the wall and shoves his knee between my legs. His upper lip curls with vicious triumph. Both of my wrists smack the wall, pinned above my head by his meaty grip. My head rings where my skull hits the stone.
I shriek, desperate for someone to hear me.
Anyone.
Please.
I suck in a frantic breath. Before I can scream again, Shout’s neck bends back at an awkward angle. He releases me as a brawny arm chokes off his own yell.
He stumbles and collides against the opposite wall.
In the next instant, Kellin’s on top of him.
My head swims. Dazed, I watch as my rescuer slams an elbow into Shout’s Adam’s apple.
Shout lurches forward, coughing. While he wheezes, Kellin twists his left arm behind his back higher than any limb should go.
The pop of a dislocating joint bounces off the walls. Shout cries out and drops to the concrete landing.