Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Summer
The smell of coffee filled my kitchen, warm and inviting, but it did absolutely nothing to calm my frantic, overworked nerves.
I stood stiffly by the counter, arms tightly crossed over my chest, my oversized hoodie swallowing me whole as I avoided looking at him.
Malcolm, however, had no problem staring straight at me, his tall, imposing frame leaned casually against the opposite counter, like he owned the damn place.
His dark eyes, sharp and unreadable, were locked onto me with an amusement that made me want to throw something at his stupidly handsome face.
"So," he finally said, his smirk lazy and knowing, "are you going to make me breakfast?"
I whipped around so fast I nearly knocked over my coffee mug, turning to glare at him. "Why would I do that?" I snapped, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping me from spontaneously combusting.
His smirk deepened, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he leaned back just slightly. "Because I just rocked your world last night?"
I choked on air.
My entire body locked up, my breath catching violently in my throat as heat flooded my face. My fingers curled so tight against the counter that my knuckles turned white, my pulse spiraling into absolute chaos as memories of last night rushed in all at once.
His hands gripping my waist.
His mouth moving down my skin.
His voice, rough and low, whispering things that made my stomach clench in the worst way.
I wanted to die.
"Malcolm!" I hissed, my voice strangled, horrified, absolutely mortified.
He just laughed, his head tilting slightly as he watched my complete and utter meltdown. "What? I’m just stating facts."
I whirled away, muttering a string of curses under my breath, aggressively rummaging through my cabinets, pretending to look for food when in reality, I was just trying to avoid his gaze.
I needed distance. I needed to breathe. I needed to rewind time and undo last night, because this was not how my life was supposed to go.
"You’re not getting breakfast," I gritted out, yanking open a cabinet door with way too much force, my hands shaking slightly. I grabbed the first thing I saw, turned, and threw a box of cereal straight at him.
Malcolm caught it effortlessly, one-handed, barely reacting, his lips twitching as he glanced down at the box before flicking his gaze back to me. "This isn’t breakfast."
"That’s all you’re getting," I huffed, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
His amusement didn’t waver. "You’re really sending me off without food?"
"You’re a billionaire," I snapped. "Buy a damn croissant."
He laughed again, deep and unbothered, and I hated how much I liked the sound. It was warm and low and smug, and it did things to me that I had zero business feeling right now.
I scowled, my hands tightening around my coffee mug as I stared down into the dark liquid, willing it to teleport me out of this mess.
But I could still feel his eyes on me, still feel the weight of his presence in my kitchen, still feel the ridiculous heat of my own embarrassment threatening to suffocate me.
This was not how this was supposed to go.
This was supposed to be a mistake. A one-night thing. Something forgettable.
But Malcolm Sinclair was standing in my kitchen, smirking like he had all the time in the world, like he was completely at ease, like he knew exactly what last night meant, even if I was trying to pretend it was nothing. And the worst part?
I didn’t actually want him to leave.
I took a slow breath, forcing myself to sound bored, unaffected, normal as I turned back toward him. "Don’t you have billionaire things to do? Stock markets to manipulate? Fancy meetings to attend?"
He grinned, completely unfazed. "I moved some things around."
My stomach dropped. "You what?"
"I moved some things around," he repeated, stepping closer, his voice lower, lazier, amused. "To make time for breakfast."
I blinked, staring at him like he had just spoken another language. "You moved around your billionaire schedule to eat breakfast?"
"With you," he corrected smoothly, and my breath hitched.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly too dry. "Well, that was dumb."
He laughed, shaking his head, and I hated the way my chest twisted at the sound.
"Fine," he said, stepping back toward the door. "I’ll settle for coffee."
"Then make it yourself," I muttered, turning away, gripping the counter again like it was my only lifeline.
I needed him to leave.
I needed to breathe.
I needed to not think about the way his voice sounded in my ear last night.
But then, as he moved toward the door, he paused.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the air, the change in the energy, the weight of his gaze settling on me.
"You know this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, right?" he said, his voice quiet, calm but deliberate.
I turned, my breath catching as he took a step closer, tilting his head down slightly, his dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip.
Something deep in my chest clenched.
Something dangerous.
"Malcolm," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, but before I could finish, he tilted my chin up with his fingers, gentle, deliberate, careful.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t teasing.
It was slow.
Deep.
Unmistakable.
A kiss that felt like a promise.
A kiss that felt like he had no intention of leaving my life this time.
My fingers curled into his shirt, my body betraying me as I leaned into him, as his lips moved against mine with a confidence that sent a shiver down my spine.
When he pulled back, he grinned, watching me like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
"See you soon, Sunshine."
And then, just like that, he was gone.
I stood there, stunned, my heart hammering in my chest, my lips tingling, my entire world tilting on its axis.
I was in so much trouble.