by Nashoda Rose
HE WAS EARLY.
Hours early.
Like it was still daylight early and I’d just walked in the door from school. “What are you doing here?”
Kai was different. He wasn’t wearing a suit or even a dress shirt. He was in a black T-shirt and jeans, snug jeans that hung low on his hips and made him look hotter than usual, which was seriously hard to do.
I watched him walk into the kitchen and help himself to a bottled water from the fridge. There was something else that was different. He had barely looked at me. Normally, his eyes trapped mine the moment he entered my loft. But today… he ignored me.
He was tense, on edge. Kai had that in him, but it was not in a threatening edge. It was like he was uneasy about being here.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, merely leaned against the kitchen counter and chugged back the water. And he looked sexy as hell doing it. Shit.
He finished the water and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin under the counter.
If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine with me. It wasn’t like we had anything to talk about anyway.
I tossed my purse onto the coffee table and walked into the bedroom, rummaged through my dresser for clothes, then went into the bathroom and shut the door.
I’d just climbed into the shower when the bathroom door opened. And shut.
Our eyes met through the fogged glass and my pulse shot off like a bullet. The sprayer hit my chest, hot water pouring down the front of me as I stood unmoving. He kept his eyes on my face, not once wavering to my naked body even though I loved how his eyes trailed down my body like it was something to devour.
Hawks dive bombed in my belly.
Then I watched as he slowly undressed, his movements unrushed and smooth, just like him. He folded each piece of clothing as he removed it and placed it on the counter beside the sink.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The reality was, Kai captivated me.
Remember who he is, London.
I glanced at the sheathed knife he’d put beside his clothes. Did he go anywhere without that thing? I shivered at the thought of blood being wiped clean from its blade. Had he killed? How many people? Were they good people like my father?
Bile rose in my throat. I was having sex with this guy. I let him use my body and I liked it. I was turned on by him. That made me just as disgusting and vile as him.
The shower door opened and I stepped back.
He scowled as I looked for an escape, but he blocked the only exit and by his unyielding expression, I wasn’t going to get by him.
“What’s changed?” he asked as he stepped under the spray and I backed up against the tiled wall. “I see it in your face, London. What’s changed?”
He kept approaching until his body was up against mine. His hand cupped the back of my neck while his other curved around my lower back. With one rough tug, he had me pressed against him.
“Answer me,” he shouted.
It was the first time he’d raised his voice and it wasn’t race cars of goose bumps shooting across my skin, it was fighter jets.
“The knife.”
His fingers tightened on my neck. “What about it?”
His cock was pressed into my abdomen. “You’ve… killed people with it?”
There was no hesitation as he said, “Yes.”
“Good people?”
“Does it matter?”
Did it? Killing wasn’t right no matter who it was, no matter the reason. I wanted to save lives and Kai took them. But yeah, it still mattered. “Yes.”
I tried to look down, but he wouldn’t let me. His fingers grasped strands of my hair and firmly pulled my head back. “I’ve never pretended to be anyone else, London.” True, that was all me. I saw him as the man who saved me. I’d convinced myself that Kai was good. “Has every person I’ve killed deserved it? Probably not.” I swallowed. “Were they upstanding citizens? No. But I won’t apologize for who I am. Not to you or anyone else.”
“I don’t like you. I don’t like this.”
“Baby, if you liked me, we’d have a problem. But make no mistake, you do like this.” With his mouth to my ear he said, “Nothing wrong with that, London. You can’t control it, so accept what this is for one more night. Forget that I’m a killer and I’ll try to forget that you’re a scientist.”
I huffed.
He grinned and his grip loosened on my hair as his other hand came up to cup my chin, thumb stroking back and forth. “The rule comes into play at any time, London. Always.”
I frowned, uncertain what he was referring to. “What do you…?” Then it hit me. His rule. If I didn’t want something, all I had to do was tell him. “But the deal.”
“Always.” His thumb played with my lower lip and the action didn’t match the serious look in his eyes.
It was the same word he’d written on the note. The same word he’d said to me after the fire. He’d always come for me, whatever that meant. I didn’t understand him. But I suspected he liked it that way.
One more night. We had one more night and then he’d leave and the always wouldn’t matter anymore. I trapped his thumb with my teeth and then slowly dragged it into my mouth. His eyes blazed with desire and I liked that I could do that to him.
He released me, reached up onto the tiled corner ledge and grabbed the soap bottle. Then he passed it to me.
“Wash me.”
I swallowed, staring at him while I took the bottle.
He stood like a stone statue in the rain, the water dripping over his shoulders down his length, trails of heated moisture. Kai was lean and there was not an ounce of softness about him. Agile, like a deadly black panther. No, he was rarer than that, a solitary Amur leopard.
“Water will be cold soon.” His voice broke through my thoughts and I noticed the lightness to his tone had returned and some of my uncertainty dissipated.
I squeezed soap onto my hands. “Umm, you’d be better to stand out of the spray.”
He shook his head, sighing. “Don’t say umm, London. It doesn’t become you.”
I went to retort something back at him, but I clamped my mouth shut and bit the insides of my cheeks instead. He wanted me to react. What pissed me off was that he was right. I never said umm. It was an ugly filler sound. If I couldn’t find the words, I hesitated, not filled the silence with umm.
I slid the soap along the surface of his smooth skin, his muscled arms, the tattoo on his right shoulder that gleamed black under the wetness. Then I moved to his chest and my hands roamed over the story of his past.
The knife.
Was that why he carried one, because a knife had wreaked havoc on his body? But some scars looked like burns and others were wider than what a knife would leave. Torture. It was impossible all the scars were from an accident. God, who would hurt him like this?
As I finished his upper body, I hesitated when I reached his pelvis and his cock. It was hard and erect, and like the rest of him—commanding.
I glanced up at him.
He arched a brow and took the bottle from me and tipped it, squeezing out more soap. I put my hand out to catch it and the white thick gel suddenly didn’t look like soap anymore.
“You can clean it with your mouth if you prefer?”
My heart jumped and I swallowed, my eyes going back to his jutting cock. I took hold of the base and heard him suck in air. I inwardly smiled. Then with the soap, I stroked the hard surface up and down while I continued to fist it. Once he was covered in soap and now breathing hard, I used one hand to wash his balls. Gently, rolling them like delicate jewels between my palms before slipping my finger between his legs along the crease of his ass.
His hand latched onto my hair then shoved me to the back of the shower, so he stood under the spray to wash the soap off. Then he turned to face me again.
“I want to… taste you,” I said.
His eyes blazed with desire, heightening the inferno of h
eat roaring through me.
I dropped to my knees and he blocked the spray with his back, but water trickled over his shoulders, down his chest.
The tiles hurt my knees, but when I wrapped my mouth around him, I forgot all about the bruising pain. He tasted like soap and water and… him. It was the smell of him that I’d never forget. It couldn’t be washed away or overlooked. It was in him. And it was in me.
He groaned as he pushed his hips forward, his hand on the back of my head to keep me in place. I gagged when he went too far down my throat, but I didn’t stop or pull away. I sucked on him harder, taking all of him then drawing back again, my tongue circling the tip.
“That’s it, braveheart,” he said as he widened his stance and tightened his grip in my hair. “Fuck. Yes.”
He began to push his hips forward again. “Take all of me.”
I tried to relax my throat as he withdrew then pushed to the back of my throat again. I sucked at the same time, loving the taste of him. His cock jerked and his hand tightened in my hair. Then his body tensed.
He groaned as he shot down my throat.
“Fuck, baby.”
I swallowed then gently licked the remnants from the tip.
He helped me to my feet and smoothed the wet strands away from my face. “Better than I ever imagined.”
I bit my lip, liking the thought that he’d imagined me sucking him off.
It was another ten minutes before we came out of the shower because he washed every inch of me paying special attention to between my legs, which ended up having me quivering and crying out his name.
The look he’d had earlier had left and he was the man I was beginning to understand… well, understand small pieces of.
He had kindness in him that I hadn’t expected when I’d first seen him through the crack in the closet. But it was there, lying dormant most of the time, but like when he washed me and then toweled me off, it was with gentleness and care.
Then I’d caught the reflection of the knife in the mirror and wondered if maybe it was an act. The kindness he showed my body.
Maybe I was fooling myself to think I knew even a piece of this man. Did any of it matter? This was the last time I’d see him.
Then my thoughts were quickly set aside as he fucked me on the bathroom counter then again in the kitchen from behind like he’d done the first night a week ago. I did notice he never kissed me on the mouth. Not once. I wondered why he didn’t, but maybe it was better. Less… personal.
When he suggested we order in something to eat, I thought it odd and… well, normal. He dressed but insisted I remain in only panties and a spaghetti strapped camisole. I argued at first, but then stopped because I realized it was hot being half-naked with him dressed.
I ordered in Thai food and when I’d asked what he wanted to eat, he’d told me he’d like whatever I did. It was sweet and I liked that.
While we waited for it to arrive, he was on his phone. He kept his voice quiet, but I heard him say the name Chaos a few times as if it were a person. Who was Chaos? Or had he been referring to a situation? But it sounded like he was saying a name.
I placed plates on the small round glass table with white napkins. I used chopsticks, but I wasn’t sure if Kai did, so I put out cutlery, too. Then I placed the two candles in silver holders I kept for special occasions in the center. When I stepped back and glanced at the table set for two, my heart sped up.
What were we doing? What was I doing?
Then it hit me.
Oh, God, I liked him here. I liked that he stood in my living room. I liked that his scent was everywhere. I liked how he made my body feel and how he took any sexual inhibitions and smothered them.
I liked how he was so sure of himself. I liked that he pushed my boundaries. Challenged me.
Jesus, I liked Kai.
And that terrified me.
I glanced up at him and our eyes locked. He was no longer talking on the phone, but was watching me. Nothing else existed except us.
My breath stopped.
He must have seen it. Seen the realization. Seen something in my eyes because he did what we both knew was the only option.
He walked out.
FUCK, ONLY THREE weeks.
Three weeks since I walked out of her loft and took the first flight out of New York to Toronto. I’d met up with Chaos and went over a new assignment, went to Vault’s Toronto house and saw Brice and Glen, emailed Mother, because I didn’t care to hear her voice, plus it was easier lying in an email.
But I was distracted. Uneasy. The cool steady calm that normally filtered through me had slowed to a trickle and instead, I was on edge, the sensation of sandpaper being constantly rubbed against my skin.
Unable to sleep, I stayed up and read about fuckin’ chemistry. Chemistry. I had no interest in chemistry, but it linked me to her. To London.
I followed my gut instinct because that was always a certainty. Most people ignored it, but if that became a habit¸ a person would slowly become numb to what their instincts were telling them.
I didn’t. I listened to every single one. Maybe because I had nothing to lose by taking a chance. Maybe because I’d never given a shit if I died.
But at that moment, my guts were speaking loud and fuckin’ clear. Something was off, but I didn’t know what. It had been that way ever since I walked out of London’s door after seeing her face. Fuck, I told her it was better she didn’t like me.
I had to leave and never go back for her sake more than mine. I’d already risked a lot by being with her. Selfish. That was what it had been. But I hadn’t been able to resist her after feeling her beneath me on the hood of my car. After finally touching her.
It was pure lust when I’d seen her picture for the first time two years ago when I’d been assigned to her father. She had an innocence about her, a quietness that played across her face, but there was also a stubborn quirk that lay beneath the natural beauty. It was cute and refreshing. I was never attracted to that type of woman because the quiet, innocent ones would be terrified of me. I fucked women who wanted what I did… no strings.
It was when I saw her in person that everything went to shit. I’d flown to New York to check up on her father and went to the house she shared with some other students.
I’d been sitting outside at a café sipping an espresso when she emerged from her house across the street with one of her roommates. I knew the other girl was a roommate because I’d checked into everyone surrounding London and her father.
London’s head was tilted back as she laughed at something her friend said, neck exposed, eyes bright and filled with lightness. A lightness I wanted to grab and hold onto. She gently laid her hand on her friend’s arm and the sweet gesture was like being wrapped in her warmth. As she walked in my direction, her hips swayed, not provocatively, naturally.
Her smile was genuine and filtered into the passersby as if it were infectious. I found myself smiling too as I sat back in my chair, legs out, ankles crossed as I watched her.
Then I saw her stop and crouch in front of an old woman sitting on a subway grate, bags all around her and a shopping cart filled with garbage. Well, what I considered garbage, but I was certain the homeless lady didn’t think so.
London reached in her school bag and pulled out what looked like a sandwich and passed it to her. The old woman, who had been moaning and frowning, looked at London and smiled revealing her rotting teeth. London smiled back then put her hand on the woman’s arm and said something to her. And still to this day, I wanted to know what she said. Not that the words were important. But because that single moment changed the course of my life.
I never gave a shit about the homeless. Never thought about them until that moment. I didn’t know what it was, maybe the simple, quiet gesture. Her softness. Her caring. It was something I completely lacked and London’s compassion fed me lightness that filled the dark rift inside me.
It began my need to watch her. I pretended it was to mak
e certain she didn’t become a by-product of Vault’s needs, and it was partially, but it was far more than that. I was addicted to her.
I found myself coming to New York more than I needed to, just so I could feel that lightness again.
But London played with my control even though she didn’t know it. I was on a tether being pulled tight, waiting for it to snap. And it fuckin’ had snapped when I finally had a chance to have her. Taste her. And for the first time in my life, I was uncertain what I’d have done if she’d said no that first time when I held her against the fridge.
I was a bastard for accepting her ridiculous deal. But I’d thought if I had her, tasted her, fucked her, then my constant need would finally be sated and I could forget her.
It didn’t. My need strengthened. Insatiable. And it was dangerous.
Reading people was part of my training, their eye movements, gestures, the slightest shift in weight, and London was an open book with the pages filled with big bold writing.
The last day I’d been with her… her standing beside the table at her loft, me standing on the other side of the room having just gotten off the phone with Chaos—Georgie. I saw the realization in her eyes that this was more than some deal.
It was the end to what never had the chance to begin. But fuck, for a split second, I wanted to hold onto her and stay.
But staying was never an option. I’d already broken the cardinal rule and become too close.
I leaned forward, the black leather couch crinkling and rested my elbows on my thighs and put my head in my hands, gripping my hair.
“Shit.” This wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
Mother had wanted London ‘hurt’ as a warning to Dr. Westbrook. I said I’d look after the situation and I had, just not how she would’ve liked or expected. I hadn’t planned on what happened between us. I was simply going to scare her into remaining silent because there was no way in hell I’d do what Mother wanted.
The ties surrounding me were cruel and unbreakable, and London’s fate was already balancing on a tightrope because my gut was telling me that Mother knew what I’d done.