He was touching her hair now, twisting the ends in his fingers. Bo was slightly discombobulated; this was clearly a move, practiced, maybe, but give her a good meal and a handsome man … that was her kryptonite. No. No way. She wasn't falling for this.
She gave him a half smile. “This has been fun, but I should go.”
Kit just grinned. “Okay.”
Okay? Okay? “Fine.” She got up and in a flash, he had taken her in his arms.
“Bo, let’s stop this game playing. We both know what we want.”
Asshole. But he was right, she had to admit. “I don't do commitment,” she said. “I don't do flowers and hearts and love. I don't need a white knight.”
“I understand.”
“Then what do you want, Kit Mallory?” As if she didn’t know.
Kit bent his head to kiss her and it was so soft, so sweet, it sent her senses reeling. “You. Now.”
His fingers were at the nape of her neck, on the fastening of her halter-neck dress, and when she didn’t pull away, he released the tie. The dress slithered down her curves and fell to the floor.
“Wow, oh wow,” he said and dropped to his knees, burying his face in her belly. Bo shivered as his lips trailed across her skin, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of her hips.
“You should be naked all of the time, Bo Kennedy, or on the bow of a ship.” She giggled. He stood and kissed her mouth again. Unfreezing, Bo started to unbutton his shirt, flattening her hand against his hard pecs, her fingertips seeking out the puckered nipples, tweaking them before she placed her mouth on them.
Her mind was a whirlwind … she had expected a full-on fuck fest: hard, fast, dirty and done in twenty minutes. Not this slow seduction. She kept in the back of her mind that this was Kit Mallory, well-known swordsman and player, but … this was unexpectedly tender. He released the clasp on her bra and let her full, heavy breasts fall into his hands, kissing them, plumping them, taking her nipples into his mouth in turn. She felt the heat between her legs, the rush of arousal, and by the time they reached the bedroom, she was so wet for him that when at last he drove his huge, diamond-hard cock into her, she was more than ready.
“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth. “Not just your delicious cunt but your skin, your breasts, your soft belly. God, Bo Kennedy ...”
His words were turning her on as much as the strong rhythm of his thrusts, and she tilted her hips to take him in deeper. Their bodies fit together so well, she forgot any reservations and just went with it, enjoying every sensation and electric pulse of pleasure, her body was experiencing.
“Not so bad, yourself, Kit Mallory ...” She grinned and he chuckled and then she saw who he was truly, a good man under all that bluster and arrogance. A kind, loving man.
God, she hoped she was right as he drove her inexorably to a shattering orgasm, his own following quickly, crying her name out over and over again.
She was prepared for the quick kiss-off, the ‘I’ll call you sometime’, the ‘I’m going to the bathroom and when I get back you won’t be here’ thing. Instead, with his cock still semi-hard, still inside her, he stroked her face, his eyes soft, holding none of the arrogance she had come to expected, and said one simple word.
“Stay.”
Skandar, Hayley, Ran, Grady, and Jakob listened to the recording of Gregor Fisk's latest threatening phone call to Quilla. Quilla wasn't present—she didn't need to go through this twice, but Jakob had told them he needed them to listen, to see if they could glean anything, anything, from it.
“No theory is too small or too big,” he said, wearily, “we just need a lead.”
The threats were sickening in their violence and now Gregor had added a sexual element that made Hayley clamp her hand over her mouth and rush out to throw up. Skandar went to find her. He found her sobbing in one of the guest bathrooms. She fell into his arms.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, until that recording, I never knew for real what this guy’s deal was. He’s obsessed.”
Skandar grimaced “I know. We got off easy, but I’m still not taking any chances. When does your semester close out?”
She told him and he nodded. “At the risk of sounding like I’m controlling you, I think we should go away, far away, for a couple of weeks. We have a private island we can use. What do you say?”
She smiled through her tears. “It sounds perfect, but I still feel for Quilla and Jakob. They can’t escape this, wherever they go.”
Skandar sighed. “No. Look, come back down. Maybe we can come up with some ideas for Jakob.”
Bo opened her eyes. Light seeped through under the curtains in Kit Mallory's hotel bedroom, so she could tell it was morning. Kit was still asleep, the sheet pushed down to hips, his broad chest turned towards her, his hand resting on her waist. God, he was beautiful. She stroked a finger under his eyes, along the path of the dark shadow there, and he opened his eyes, the blue eyes twinkling at her.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
She smiled. “Mr. Mallory, I presume.” He chuckled and kissed her.
“Forgive my morning breath.”
“Right back at ya. Good thing about hotel rooms; they always have spare toothbrushes.”
“That’s right,” he said, sitting up and pulling her up, “and it just so happens this one has an enormous shower, too, so I can get you all soaped up and have my wicked way with you.”
She giggled. “That sounds just about perfect.”
“Get in that bathroom, woman.”
He'd ordered breakfast by the time she was finished dressing, and she swooned over the fresh fruit compote and Greek yogurt. She saw him grinning at her obvious enjoyment.
“I love my food,” she said unapologetically. “When I was first signed to the label, they did everything to try and get me to lose weight. Real passive aggressive stuff—and when I told them to do one—sorry, that means to fuck off, in English,” she grinned at him, “they just got aggressive. And then my debut album sold twenty-seven million copies. Haven’t mentioned my weight since.”
“Nor should they,” he said, shaking his head. “The number of eating disorders in the showbiz industry is horrendous. As long as you're healthy, who cares? Don't change a thing; you're a goddess.” He meant it as a throwaway comment, but she suddenly beamed at him through tear-filled eyes.
“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, thank you.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “Are you free today?”
She shook her head. “I wish, but I have a kid at home who wants to see his mummy.”
“You have a kid?” To her surprise, he didn't look wary but excited, interested. Had she misjudged this man that much? Yes.
“I do. Tiger, he's four. Me and his dad, well, it was more of a one-off, but we get on really well, and he loves Tiger.”
“That’s cool … my twin brother had Skandar when he was really young, but the mother didn’t stick around.”
“Usually the other way around. So, yeah, I’d love to spend the day with you but … unless you want to come along? We’re going to the Natural History Museum.”
Kit looked surprised. “Really? I’d love to … are you sure it isn’t too soon for him to be exposed to me?”
Bo couldn't help smiling. ‘Too soon' implied he wanted to see her again, and the idea thrilled her more than she liked to admit. “Nah, mate, he’s cool.”
Kit was surprised with himself. Normally, spending an afternoon with a brat wasn’t on his wish list at all, but he was curious about this woman. This woman who could command audience numbers in the tens of thousands for her live shows; could sell millions of copies of records; and yet still found time to manage herself and look after a kid.
She made him laugh, too, and later, when he was with Bo and her entirely adorable nerd of a son, he found himself both relaxed and happy; yet suddenly depressed. Was this what he had been missing? He had everything—everything—and yet he was ha
ving more fun listening to a four-year-old kid tell him about each different dinosaur he’d had than at a million Hollywood events. Tiger had taken to him straightaway—like his mother, he wasn't shy, and when Bo introduced them, he'd looked Kit up and down with clear green eyes and shrugged. “Okay, cool.”
Now Tiger was listening, enraptured, to the tour guide. Kit grinned down at Bo. “Such a great kid.”
She beamed. She wore a simple navy wrap dress cinched in at the waist to emphasize her curvy hips and bust; her hair tucked up into a loose chignon, her lovely, radiant face bare of makeup.
You are everything the world says I shouldn’t go for, he thought, looking down at her, and everything I want.
They were recognized, of course, and frequently stopped for photos and autographs. Kit admired the easy way Bo interacted with her fans, hugging them and posing for selfies with a mad grin on her face. He abandoned his usual ploy of posing like a movie star and followed her lead.
“You're so sweet,” he was told, their voices amazed and again, and he felt both happy and sad at their surprise. Was his reputation as a douchebag set for life? Damn. No wonder his family was so distant. He'd been a pig to Skandar, the poor kid—he vowed now to make it up to him, to all of them, when he got back.
“You look deep in thought.” Bo, finally free of fans, tucked her hand under his arm. He kissed her temple.
“Bo … do you think it’s possible for someone’s life to change completely in the space of a few days.”
Bo grinned. “Mate, my life changed in a millisecond,” she nodded at Tiger, “but yeah, of course. Why?” She studied him. “You’re not going to tell me you’re in love with me yet, are you?” She was joking, but then she saw his face and her smile faded. “Kit, don’t. Please don’t. If you say it now, so soon, I won’t believe you.”
Kit was stung. “I can’t help how I feel.”
She took his face in her hands. “Look, whatever you’re feeling, happiness, desire, lust, heck, even the beginnings of love … that’s what I’m feeling, I promise you that. So don’t look so down … this is the exciting part. We’re getting to know each other.”
He stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “You’ve changed me already.”
She smiled. “Bloody good job, too.” Her eyes softened. “Look, I’m not saying don’t say it, just make sure you’re sure before you do, and I’ll do the same. We’re not teenagers.”
Kit smiled. “Then how come I feel like I am?”
She laughed. “Kit Mallory … are you telling me you’re finally tamed by this London girl?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and kissed her, “but I’m getting there.”
Skandar grinned at Hayley as he drew up to her house in his convertible. “Hayley Applebee, one day soon I hope I have to say ‘I'm taking you home’ and mean our house instead of this house.”
Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed. “Baby, people will talk if I move in with you so soon.”
“Bah, humbug.”
She kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips. “I’d invite you in, but I think your dad’s in there with my sister and you know what happened last time I burst in on them.”
He groaned. 'The image is seared into my brain.”
She laughed and started to get out of his car but he stopped her. She frowned at the expression in his eyes.
“Seriously, Hays. I hate leaving you here. Please … go grab some stuff and move in with me. Now. Tonight. Let’s just jump in and figure it out on the way.”
Hayley stared at the man she loved beyond reason and knew what she was going to say.
“Skandar ...”
Her face was blank, and she could see the sadness in his eyes … so she grinned widely. “Come help me pack, then.”
Skandar blinked, then beamed. “Really?”
She laughed. “Really, truly, yes, yes, yes ...”
Inside, Joel and Nan, who were watching them from the window, laughed as Skandar picked his girlfriend up and carried her, shrieking with laughter, into the house.
Quilla Chen bent double over the toilet and threw up again. Ng … she hadn't felt this bad since she was stabbed—the searing pain in her stomach made her want to scream. Outside the bathroom, Jed, one of her ever-present bodyguards, knocked cautiously. “Miss Chen, do you want me to call a doctor?”
She didn't answer for a second, rinsing her mouth with water. She wiped her mouth, then went to the door. “Not just yet.” She smiled at Jed weakly. “It's probably just the stomach flu. I'll call if I change my mind. Thanks, Jed; you're sweet to worry.”
Jed nodded. “If you're sure, I'll be in my room.” Their guest room was now the bodyguard's room, six of them on a rotating schedule of eight hours a day, three days on, three days off. She was never alone—but she was certainly safe.
Jakob was at work late again, so she got into bed and switched on the TV. She was just falling asleep when she heard her name.
“Chen, a twenty-four-year-old art graduate, is best known for dating billionaire Jakob Mallory. Now that her past is better known, it remains to be seen if that relationship can overcome the revelation that Chen comes from a family of high-end prostitutes and drug addicts … '
She couldn’t breathe, the shock slamming into her; she was reeling, reeling …
Not knowing where she was going, she stumbled out of the bedroom, trying to get help and reaching for the phone. An all-consuming agonizing pain in her stomach ripped through her, and as she passed out, she heard Jakob's voice calling for her, far away, so far away …
Part Five: Trouble Me
Grady Mallory stepped off the plane into one-hundred-degree heat and grinned. New Orleans was experiencing a late summer heat wave, and it was just as Grady loved it—hot, sweaty, and sexy.
He caught a cab to his hotel in the French Quarter, showered, and stepped back out onto the street. Whenever he came here, he had a tradition of walking around the Quarter for an hour or two, getting his bearings, soaking in the atmosphere.
He was glad to be away from Seattle—so much drama and upset. After the revelations about Quilla’s family had hit the headlines, and her subsequent illness—thankfully just stomach flu and nothing worse—Jakob had been snappy and irritable—back to the wreck he had been before he met her. Grady hoped against hope that his beloved older brother wasn’t using again. His father, Ran, was worrying himself into an early grave, because of this thing with Gregor Fisk. That asshole, Grady thought now, if I got my hands on him …
The streets were crowded with tourists and entertainers. He found a restaurant off the main thoroughfare and went in to grab some food. The diner was filled with, by the looks of it, mostly local people, so he regarded this as a good sign.
He loved this city, so when he heard about the artwork being auctioned here—a very exclusive invite-only auction, at that—he had jumped at the chance. He’d tried to persuade his dad to come, but Ran was too locked into the Fisk situation and taking care of the family. Grady understood. But now, sitting, here he would have loved his dad to be sitting opposite, excited about the new pieces. Grady had no doubt he would get them for the Mallory collection—he was that good at this now. That wasn’t conceit, just the confidence of a man who had spent the last twenty years honing his craft.
He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see her at first—although to be fair, it looked like she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. She was sitting two tables away, at a tiny table stuffed into an alcove, her laptop out and on, her eyes intent on the screen. Something blue must have flashed on the screen because that’s what drew his attention. The girl looked exasperated, and knocked the computer as if annoyed with it.
Grady studied her with interest. Dark brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, massive black-rimmed spectacles on a small, delicate face, huge blue eyes rimmed with kohl. Geek, Grady thought with a smile, and a very attractive one. He heard her curse—Italian then English—then sigh, shutting the laptop and shoving
it into her bag. She got up, throwing some money onto the table, and he watched her slim, athletic frame stumble through the nest of tables, apologizing to the diners who got hit on the head with her overstuffed messenger bag. Cute, Grady decided. Seriously cute. Time was he would have followed her out, got her number. A long time ago. Before Molly, before the cancer that took her less than a year after their wedding. Before Asia. Before Asia and Kit.
Stop it. If Grady was going to break one damn habit this year, it was wondering “what if?”. It had been holding him back from living, from loving again.
No more, he said to himself, it’s time to start over.
He hoped he could stick to his new plan.
Asia rolled her eyes after Quilla had apologized for the hundredth time. “Sorry you got landed with babysitting duties again,” Quilla said ruefully.
“Girl, stop. It’s a pleasure spending time with you; we don’t do it enough.” They were driving along the highway, out towards the Olympic Mountains. Asia had suggested the trip after Jakob had insisted that Quilla not be alone. At all. She was starting to feel trapped both by Jakob’s fear and Gregor’s malevolence, she told Asia now.
Asia, driving, turned to glance at her. “How are you feeling about the … you know?”
“A lot better after Ran told me it made no difference to him what my family was alleged to have been, or what they did.”
Asia frowned. “Did Jakob not say that to you first?”
Quilla hesitated. “He did. Over and over. But I always felt like he was saying it because he had to. God, what a mess, and what a fucking bastard Gregor Fisk it—what did I do to him? Wasn’t stabbing me and threatening me enough for him?”
“Ran seems to think that his obsession with you has become his … how can I put this, his main focus. Yes, he wants revenge on Jakob and Ran, but it’s almost as if he just can’t get you out of his head. It’s like he stabbed you—then realized ...”
Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 36