But curiosity was an insatiable need.
Sliding from the warm covers, I wrapped a blanket around my nakedness and went in search. Down the long corridor, and ascending the stairs, I found Kill in his office—the same room where he’d very nearly died.
The floor was cleaned and the towels and bloody water had gone.
Did the cleaning lady do that or him?
Sunshine bounced into the room, defying the white blinds, half drawn to stop the glare on the computer screens, and the large mathematical artwork loomed ever higher, as if taunting me from my dream.
He helped you with your homework.
Whoever the boy was who owned my heart, he was smart—just like this brooding president.
Kill sat in the glow of early morning sun, his naked chest gleaming from a recent shower. He hadn’t dressed yet, but wore a pair of black boxer-briefs. His tattooed leg was hidden beneath his desk. I leaned against the door frame, watching the planes of his back as the golden light made him seem otherworldly. The large ridges of muscle elongated down his spine, looking both masculine and graceful. The huge tattoo was a stain on his flesh. The skull and coins were there, along with the motto—but it looked clouded. As if it’d been drawn over another design—a design that refused to fade beneath the new ink.
I much preferred the tattoo on his leg. It had stories to tell—good stories, happy even. The one on his back was more of a sentence—a lifestyle I didn’t fully understand.
My eyes went to the information dancing on the computer screens.
“See that, Buttercup?”
I opened my eyes, turning to face the television. I lay on his lap, drowsy and content after our day in the sun at the beach. “See what?”
He leaned down, running his gentle fingertips through my hair. “The stock market. That’s called a pip spread. It’s how people make money from trading. And this particular platform is the most lucrative one there is.”
I scrunched my nose. I couldn’t make sense of the flickering colors and lines jerking down, then up, then down again. “What is it?”
“It’s the FX.”
“In English, please, brainiac.” I pinched him, smiling as he chuckled quietly. No one else got to hear him laugh. That was mine and mine alone.
“It’s the foreign currency market and I’m going to use it to make us a fortune.”
The flashback ended.
The knowledge was bright—each small glimpse into my past building a picture out of slices of history. I had no idea what the big picture would reveal but I had to trust my brain would work it out—eventually.
He trades.
I stayed silent by the door, taking in Kill’s intense concentration as he sat on the high-backed office chair and stared into the four screens as if they held the meaning of life.
Graphs, charts, and pie diagrams covered one computer, while another held candlestick evaluations and world clocks. The other two were black with blinking red and green numbers, changing rapidly on different columns.
His head moved slightly, gathering information from each screen, his fingers tracing over the keyboard, making snap decisions based on the conclusions he came to.
How wealthy is he?
What is he hiding?
I jumped as the harsh sound of a cell phone buzzed beside his mouse.
He snatched it up without looking away from the screens. “Kill.”
I couldn’t hear the caller, but Kill’s back stiffened. He straightened, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “Did stage one go off okay?”
Silence while the caller replied.
“That’s good. Tell Wallstreet I’m grateful for his insight. It seemed he was right about that particular issue. I’m just fucking glad it worked.” Kill’s tone was dark with grim pleasure.
What had been done? What projects was he puppeteering all while babysitting me?
Kill suddenly tensed. “Tell him it’s none of his goddamn business.”
I smothered my smile. Seemed that was a favorite saying of his.
“No, I don’t care. We sold the five. He got whatever he wanted by doing something the Club was against. Why the fuck does he care about the sixth?”
I froze. Icicles formed in my blood. Me. They’re talking about me.
“How the fuck did he find out?” He bowed forward, resting his elbow on the table, and dragging his fingers overs his face. “No. I’ll deal with him. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ve got the girl here.”
The caller spoke; Kill breathed harder.
“Fuck. That’s bullshit. I said I’d find a buyer. I don’t—”
The caller cut him off. Kill punched the top of his desk. “Goddammit, what the fuck is his problem? When does he want her?”
Silence as the caller answered.
“No, I’m not gonna hand her over; I’ll take her myself.” Opening the top drawer of his desk, he pulled out a gun. “Wait for me—I’m coming over.” He hung up.
Oh God. Was that gun for me? To threaten me?
I faded into the corridor, not wanting to be caught, but not willing to let him out of my sight. He lied to me.
What did that mean? That the bargain we’d made was broken? I thought he was the president. Why was he bowing to other’s demands?
My body trembled with the need to run—to get as far away from false promises and complicated bikers as possible, but I paused.
Kill bowed his head, massaging his neck with both hands. He looked weary and carrying the weight of endless grief.
Don’t feel sorry for him. Don’t you dare feel sorry for him.
I inched closer to the stairs, ready to scurry back to my room and plot an escape, but Kill bent to a bottom draw and opened it with a key. Slinking his hand in, he pulled out a small piece of paper. I couldn’t see what it was. A photograph? A shopping list?
My skin prickled as he growled, “I will have my vengeance. I will find my peace. I will ruin those motherfuckers and hope to God I will be free.”
The words were arrows, raining around me, piercing deep into my soul.
“I will have my vengeance. I will find my peace. I will ruin those motherfuckers and hope to God I will be free.”
Every hair follicle stood on end. The words weren’t a promise or a prayer. They were an obsession. A consuming, passionate obsession that had kidnapped his entire existence.
I couldn’t watch anymore as Kill reverently placed the item back in the drawer and clutched his gun. “It’s almost time,” he murmured. “Almost time to do to them what they did to me.” His tone echoed with revenge and hate.
I turned tail and ran.
Kill found me half-dressed.
Wearing his usual black T-shirt and jeans, he whispered with energy.
I’d bolted and was determined to be fortified and brave when he came for me with a gun drawn and broken promises trailing behind him.
Stalking into the room he’d given me the first night, his eyes locked on my bra and the denim skirt I’d just pulled over my hips. “What are you doing in here? I left you in my room.”
I faced away, hating the chill in his eyes and the lies corrupting the air between us. I couldn’t look at him without demanding to know how he could fuck me, all while knowing he meant to get rid of me soon.
So much for time. So much for waiting until I could tell him the story of my scars and ink.
“This is the room you locked me in. I’m sorry for taking up your bed all night.” Plucking a white T-shirt from the store bag, I muttered, “You obviously couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping beside me, seeing as you never came back.”
He strode toward me, planting his large hands on my shoulders, and jerking me to face him. The gun I’d seen in his office had disappeared. “What the hell are you doing?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What am I doing? I could ask the same about you!”
His lips opened, then snapped together. Anger rolled off him. “We fucked. There was nothing more to it. As impersonal as—”
“Strangers. Don’t worry. I get it.” Rolling my shoulders, I broke his hold and moved toward the bathroom. The door had a lock on it and I fully intended to use it. The way my body jittered and tongue wanted to spew obscenities, it was best for both of us to have some distance.
My hand reached for the doorknob but an arm lassoed around my waist, pulling me against hot, strong muscles. “Did I say you could walk away?”
Did I say you could sell me?
I breathed hard through my nose, swallowing my retorts. “Let me go.”
“No.”
I squirmed, wishing I was stronger. I briefly entertained the idea of spinning around and kneeing him in the groin, but that would only make him furious. I had no way of winning. Letting the fight siphon from my limbs, I said listlessly, “I overheard you.”
He froze. “You were spying on me?”
“No. I came to say good morning…” And to tell you how much I enjoyed last night even though you have issues.
“Don’t act surprised. You knew what your fate entailed. Just because my cock has been inside you doesn’t mean you’re free.” His breathing turned harsh as his fingers brushed away red strands sticking to my neck. “I allowed myself one taste. I’ve been transparent right from the start. Don’t—”
I laughed, twisting quickly in his arms to stare fiercely into his green eyes. “You’ve been transparent? Shit, I’d hate to see you when you’re being obtuse. You fucked me. I get that, and I understand you’re hurting for something I can’t help with, but you said you wouldn’t—”
“I’m hurting? What the fuck makes you say that?” His face glowered as his lips thinned.
I rolled my eyes. His ignorance or sheer-minded determination not to acknowledge how heavily he was dictated by his past had surpassed my threshold of limits. “Admit it. You’re in love with a ghost, and you can’t stomach the thought of ever caring for another woman. You proved it when you stopped me from touching you, from even watching you take me. You’ve got issues, Arthur.”
“Don’t use my name!” His hands lashed out, gripping my hair and walking me backward until I slammed against the wall. Our lips were so close. All I had to do was stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. Lick him. Tease him. See what his rage tasted like beneath all the guilt he carried.
His chest rose and fell against mine, squashing my bra-covered breasts against his T-shirt. Without a word, his knee nudged mine, spreading my legs and settling between them. Subconsciously, he rocked against me.
My anger twisted into something sparking with red swirling passion.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he growled, his eyes piercing mine. My heart flurried like a blizzard, glittering with ice and snow even as it melted and shot hot blood to my core.
I honestly had no answer. “I have the same question,” I murmured, transfixed on his mouth. My eyes went heavy at the thought of his tongue slinking with mine.
He stopped breathing as the room turned thick with awareness. The same need sprang vicious and consuming and his hips went from rocking to a blatant thrust. I swallowed my moan as his erection bruised my pussy.
“I have to go,” he murmured. “Business.”
“To organize the transaction to get rid of me, you mean.” I tried so damn hard to keep the fear from my voice but failed.
He bit his lip, almost as if he reacted more to my vulnerability than my strength. “That was the order, yes.”
Throwing everything away and using every trick to change his mind, I grabbed his hips, pulling him hard against me. “Don’t.” Raising myself on my tiptoes, I kissed him.
He sucked in a breath; his hand swooped up to capture my chin and jerk me away from his mouth. His forehead furrowed as we stood staring, not breathing, not talking—just staring.
His pupils dilated as time ticked passed. My lips tingled to feel his again and my fingers curled around his hipbones, wanting to pierce his flesh and cause him pain. Cause him to feel—to see if I could get him to snap out of the walking anger-armor he wore so well.
His grip never relaxed on my chin. Who would break first? Who would look away or admit defeat? Before I could decide, his head bowed and his lips met mine in a featherlight kiss. His eyes remained open and I didn’t blink as he tilted his mouth to press deeper. The kiss changed, dancing with eroticness and the softness he ran from.
Slowly, his eyes hooded and I allowed mine to close. Cutting off my sight but granting every other sense to take over.
With a groan, he held my face immobile, his firm lips demanding me to respond.
So I did.
I threw myself into the kiss. The tip of my tongue sought entry to his mouth and he jerked against me.
He gave up. His body fell forward, crushing me against the wall, and his fingers dropped from my chin to my throat.
I moaned as his lips opened, dragging my taste into his soul, sharing his flavor in return. His breath was hot and crisp with mint, the black desire I’d sensed in the changing room swirling angrily beneath his restraint.
His head twisted, his heart galloping against mine. “Fuck.” He poured the curse down my throat. His hips drove against me, pinning me against the wall.
I couldn’t stop my hands from sliding up his back, adoring the bunch and strain of his muscles, to tug on the long strands of his hair. I pulled, jerking his neck back, deliberately taking the kiss to a more passionate place.
“Fuck!” he groaned again as my tongue dueled with his and our pace increased to out of control. Our breathing and sanity snapped and the only thing I was aware of was hands, lips, and slippery dances of tongues.
“I want you,” he panted.
“I want you,” I begged.
“My way. The only fucking way.”
I nodded. “Any way. I don’t care.”
Then I was alone, my nipples slicing through the suddenly cold air and my mouth lonely for his heat.
He disappeared from the room. The only sound was the roar of my heartbeat and harsh breathing. Then he came back, returning with a hard expression and a spreader bar with cuffs. Storming to the bed, he raised an eyebrow. “You want me. You let me do this. I want to plunge inside you. I want to feel you come around my cock. But I don’t want anything in return.”
I shivered as lust skittered down my spine.
His voice lowered as he waved the bar. “I don’t want your hands stroking me, or your eyes watching me. I don’t want your lips on my skin, or your body against mine. This is the only way I’ll take you a second time. Give me that control, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Drifting toward the bed, I couldn’t take my eyes off the bar. “That isn’t what I want.”
His eyes flared. A singular cryptic look flickered over his face.
Looking up through my eyelashes, I whispered, “I want to touch you. Everywhere.”
“I want you to touch me. Everywhere,” he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head. His chest was well formed, sinewy muscles creating a treasure trove for my eyes. He had a splattering of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans, turning him from boy to man.
My stomach flipped in awe and anticipation.
“Everywhere?” I asked, my fingertips aching to obey.
He smiled softly. “Everywhere. Don’t leave a place untouched. I’m all yours.”
“No touching,” Kill growled, dispelling my memory. He shook the spreader bar. “It’s this or nothing.”
Fear squeezed my heart. Being restrained couldn’t be any worse than not remembering anything. My mind had trapped me well before him. And I wasn’t fearful of being captured or hurt—I was already his prisoner; what did a pair of cuffs matter? I doubted I had any true fear unless it was from fire. But I’d yet to test that theory.
I didn’t fear him—not in that way. He was a brutal lover but he wasn’t a sadist. He had boundaries that I could trust.
Let him.
Let him do this so you can earn another day by his side.
Cocking my chin, I
stepped forward with my hands balled. “You can bind me on one condition.”
His lips twitched into half a smile. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”
I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. Dangling it from my finger, I raised an eyebrow. “You want me as much as I want you. Don’t lie and deny it.”
His eyes couldn’t look anywhere but at my breasts. Ink or natural—he didn’t seem to care as he drank in my half-nakedness. “Fine. What’s your condition?” His erection pressed against his jeans, and pain and annoyance lit up his gaze.
“Don’t sell me. Whoever was on the phone? Don’t listen. Keep me here. With you. Like you promised when I saved your life.”
He stopped breathing. “You’re using your body to barter with me? You have no fucking shame.”
That hurt, but I ignored the sting. “I’m asking for more time. I’m asking for what you owe me. The willingness to sleep with you isn’t a payment—it’s as much for my enjoyment as it is yours.”
Unzipping my skirt, I stepped out of it as it slithered to the floor. “I’m only asking you to keep your side of the bargain.”
He bit his lip as his erection leapt in his trousers. His stomach tensed as he said, “You’re making this sound like an agreed contract. There were no rules. No conditions.”
I didn’t reply, hooking my fingertips in the top of my G-string and wiggling my hips in invitation. “Do you accept?” My voice had turned to husk and allure, sending a scattering of goose bumps over my skin to realize how sexual I’d become.
Had I always been confident or was this new?
It was so hard to know who I was when faced with a situation such as this. Was it just survival making me lust for my kidnapper, or my mind drip-feeding me tales of a boy who held the same impossible traits as Arthur Killian?
He swallowed hard as I took another step, his throat contracting. He never took his eyes from my lingerie-covered core but his decision blazed true in their depths.
Holding up the bar, he nodded once.
I closed the distance between us, tensing against the heat from his body and the tingling awareness of being so close. “Where do you want me?” I murmured.
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