If Killian had a permanent woman in his life, then she had to be a very understanding one, considering the amount of time he spent away from New York and in Natalia’s company, albeit in work mode.
She’d decided that the most romance Killian could have in his life were one-night hookups, and there was nothing she could do about those. She wished she could, but even Killian had to be allowed to have the occasional evening off from being her bodyguard.
Which didn’t mean she had to like the idea of the women he might be with on those nights.
“Are we dancing, or do you just intend to stand there scowling all night?” Killian’s mocking voice interrupted her less-than-happy thoughts.
“We’re dancing.” Her scowl turned to a smile when, as if he had been prompted to do so, the DJ put on a slow ballad. The people around them began to pair up. “Obviously, the DJ appreciates how old you are and has decided to be kind to your creaking joints,” she taunted.
Fucking hell.
Killian had no idea how he’d gotten himself into this situation.
Probably because listening to Natalia’s description of Count Henri Asselin being a fine wine with a “magnificent finish” had annoyed the fuck out of him. Just as he’d had the urge to strangle the Frenchman a month ago whenever he had to stand silently by and witness the other man spending time with and fawning all over Natalia.
But if she was determined to tease and challenge him, and it seemed tonight that for some reason she was, then Killian daren’t back down.
Any show of weakness was sure to make Natalia even more impossible.
If Natalia wanted him to dance with her, then that was what he was going to do. Damn it, he was a man, not a fecking machine, and Natalia Brunelli had taunted him one too many times.
Besides, that “creaking joints” remark alone deserved retribution.
“What are you doing?” she protested when Killian turned her so that her back was toward him. “You—” She gasped when Killian snaked one of his arms about her waist.
He splayed his hand across her abdomen as he pulled her back against him, sliding his other hand down her arm before entwining his fingers with hers. The front of his body was now contoured against her spine and the plumpness of her bottom.
Oh yes, he was definitely going to hell for this.
Chapter Two
Natalia could barely breathe. Not because Killian’s hand was pressing too firmly on her abdomen or his fingers were crushing hers, but because of the way his body was pressed so intimately down the length of her spine. Allowing her to feel every hard muscle and curve of his chest and abdomen, and every contour of his hips and the hard length of his cock.
She’d been slightly shocked a couple of months ago when she saw her father dancing with his soon-to-be wife in exactly this same way. She challenged any girl not to be surprised when she was suddenly confronted with her own father’s sexuality. Along with that had come the realization her Papa was not only sexy as hell, but that other women, young women, obviously thought so too. Carla was only five years older than Natalia, and she made no secret of her desire and love for her new husband.
Natalia’s father and Carla had been dancing the salsa together at the party that night. It was a dance of quick and snapping movements which, although they obviously had serious sexual undertones, had still looked nowhere near as sensual as Natalia found slow dancing with Killian.
If swaying together with your feet firmly planted on the floor and only their bodies moving could be called dancing.
Holding hands with Killian was intimate enough, but the hand he splayed across her abdomen felt hot and possessive through the thin material of her dress. She could also feel the stroking caress of his hips and thighs against her bottom as the two of them swayed in time to the music. Killian’s heat and closeness made Natalia’s breasts tingle and between her thighs feel hot and swollen.
There was a dress code to get into this nightclub: ladies were to wear clothes that didn’t actually reveal any intimate body parts, and the men had to wear suits or other tailored clothing.
Killian more often than not wore suits when he worked anyway. The one time Natalia had seen him in a pair of jeans, during one of their visits to the family estate, she had almost come in her lace panties. The denim material of the jeans had hugged Killian’s ass perfectly, and there had been an intriguing fading of the material in the front of those jeans, exactly where she imagined the length of his cock nestled.
The same cock Natalia could now feel through the thin material of his suit trousers and her dress, pressing against the seam of her ass as their bodies continued to rock together to the slow beat of the music.
Killian’s engorged and throbbing cock.
The same man who usually treated her with either the remoteness required of his job as her bodyguard, or as if she were an annoying and immature child he couldn’t wait to get away from.
At least it was what Natalia had always thought that remoteness or annoyance meant…
What if she’d been wrong? What if Killian desired her as much as she did him? His arousal was undeniable and there was certainly no way he could be unaware of the increasing heat of her body.
“Is this what you wanted?” Killian taunted, his breath hot against the side of her neck, his long hair a silky caress against her flesh as he curved his body more protectively about hers.
Was this what all her teasing and taunting of Killian had been about all these years?
God, yes!
She had wanted Killian so badly and for so long. Ached for him. Had often pleasured herself with thoughts of him, alone in her bed at night. Nights when she was forced to bury her face in one of the pillows so that Killian, asleep in an adjoining bedroom, didn’t hear her as she groaned her pleasure before crying out her release as she imagined it was his lips and hands on her.
Was it possible he wanted her in the same way?
“Don’t be thinking my hard-on is for any other reason than it’s been a while since I’ve had sex and I’m holding a willing woman in my arms and my cock is as good as buried in her arse.” Killian’s husky taunt instantly demolished that fantasy.
Natalia felt the scorn of those words so deeply, it was as if he had taken a sharp knife and cut into her flesh. Drawing blood, not in a slow seep, but in a hot and life-draining gush.
Natalia instantly recognized the evisceration for what it was intended to be: her utter humiliation.
Killian didn’t want her. He would never want her. He probably knew of her infatuation for him and found it a mixture of irritating and amusing. Damn it, the only reason he spent time with her at all was because he was paid to do so by her father.
“You bastard!” She dug her red-painted nails into the flesh of his wrist about her waist. She didn’t care if she hurt him, she was only interested in achieving her release from the torment of being held in the arms of a man who had made it clear he felt nothing but derision for her.
“What the feck…!” Killian’s accent had deepened even more as he removed his arm from about her waist to step back and look at his wrist. “Jeezus, woman, you’ve made me fecking bleed.” He wiped the excess blood away with his fingertips, revealing the four halfmoon wounds where Natalia’s nails had pierced his skin.
To Natalia’s increasing shame, her body didn’t seem to have received the memo regarding Killian’s harsh rejection of her. That deepened Irish accent caused her nipples to become hard and aching, and her panties were damp from a fresh gush of juices from her channel.
Her top lip turned up in a snarl in the hope of keeping Killian’s gaze on her face rather that the physical signs of her arousal. “It’s a pity I couldn’t reach your throat. Then it might have been your jugular I sliced through!”
“Natalia—”
“Don’t touch me.” She stepped back to avoid Killian’s hand as he reached out for her. “And where you’re concerned, I’m not a ‘willing’ anything!” she added scathingly.
&nbs
p; His nostrils flared. “Didn’t feel that way to me.”
“I’m not responsible for your ageist delusions,” she sneered.
“And I’m not responsible for the fact you’re only twenty years old and still indulging in immature fantasies that every man you meet must want to fuck you.”
Natalia had to take in several deep breaths before answering him. How dare he— How could he—
“I’m going to the powder room,” she finally managed to choke out before hurrying off the dance floor in the direction of where the restrooms were situated.
Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled down the plushly carpeted hallway. She didn’t actually need the restroom, but what she did need was to be alone for a while to lick her wounds and hopefully regroup after that humiliating set-down.
The temptation of the door at the end of the hallway with the Emergency Exit sign over it now called to her. Instead of going into the powder room, Natalia continued quickly to where her escape beckoned. She simply couldn’t bear to be around Killian any more right now—
She gave a pained gasp as her arm was caught and held in a tight grip before she was swung round to face an obviously furious Killian. His eyes glittered with anger, and his mouth and jaw were rigid.
“What the feck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“Leaving the club and going back to the hotel,” she told him with haughty disdain.
“Damn it, woman,” he bit out explosively. “You know better than to try to sneak off and wander around Paris unprotected at night.”
“I had no intention of wandering anywhere,” she snapped. “I was going to get into a cab as soon as I was outside.”
“The cabs are out the front of the building, not the back.”
“Duh, then I would have walked round to the front of the building once I was outside.”
“We have our own limo,” he reminded.
“I was going to leave that for you.”
“And put yourself in danger by traveling in a public cab.”
She gave a dismissive snort. “Contrary to what you seem to think, there aren’t people waiting to kidnap me around every corner,” she scorned. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you sent either Evan or Luke to cover the back of the club the moment I decided to go to the powder room. Thought so,” she scoffed when he didn’t contradict her. “Which means when I stepped outside, I would have come to absolutely no harm whatsoever.”
“That isn’t the point—”
“No, the point is that, right now, I would prefer Evan’s or Luke’s company to yours!”
“I’m the lead on your protection.” Killian’s lids narrowed until only the green slits of his irises were visible. “And the threat to you went up exponentially with your father’s remarriage.”
“What?” she gasped.
He grimaced. “While the capo dei capi is distracted with his new bride, the vultures circling overhead might decide to swoop down on their prey. Taking you would be the perfect leverage to use as a coup against your father.”
Natalia’s chest felt tight and she struggled to breathe. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
“Your father and I discussed it, but—”
“You both decided I’m too immature to have my pretty and vacuous head bothered with such real-life things.” Natalia was so angry, she wanted to hit something. Or someone.
“Ain’t nothin’ little about you, baby—”
“Don’t call me baby,” she snapped. “And fuck you, Killian!”
“In your dreams, Talia.”
She frowned at his deliberate use of Henri Asselin’s name for her. Despite being told several times that she preferred Natalia, the French count persisted in using the shortened version. The fact Killian had noted the nickname meant he also knew of her aversion to it.
“There are far more handsome, and nicer, men for me to dream about than wasting those dreams on you,” she now assured him derisively. “Gentlemen like Henri,” she added provokingly. “What did you say?” she prompted after Killian had muttered something under his breath.
He snorted his disdain. “I said your pretty boy wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fuck a woman into oblivion. The man is so up his own arse, he probably asks permission before giving a woman a climax.”
This conversation had gone way over the line of Killian simply being her bodyguard. Way, way over. God knows what Luke, standing farther down the hallway and keeping everyone else away from where their heated exchange was taking place, thought of it all.
Natalia drew in several controlling breaths through her nose before speaking again. “My father is currently on his honeymoon and deserves to remain that way. But as soon as I hear from him, I’ll inform him I need him to send one of your cousins to replace you as my lead bodyguard.”
She didn’t wait for his reaction before turning on her heel and marching through the club to the cloakroom where she had left her coat when they arrived, knowing Luke had followed her even if Killian hadn’t. She’d text or talk to the friends she was leaving behind at the club in the morning. Right now, she just needed to get out of here.
She really wished she’d been successful in making good her escape out the back of the club so she could have returned to the hotel alone. That way, she could have shut herself in her bedroom before Killian returned, and stayed there until Killian’s replacement arrived.
She felt too emotionally fragile right now to want to see the triumph of her humiliation in Killian’s knowing green eyes.
Which meant, as getting away from him was proving so impossible, she would just have to ignore him instead.
Killian watched Natalia walk away from him and knew he had seriously fucked up when he decided that taunting her earlier was the best way to avoid her asking him questions regarding his obvious arousal. His physical response was undeniable but he could, and had, fabricated a reason for it.
A fabrication that, he now realized, hadn’t just succeeded in pissing Natalia off so that she treated him with disdain, but had also caused her to almost put herself in danger.
Without intending to, he knew he had hurt her so much she’d been foolish enough to try and leave the club alone. He’d then compounded the mistake by insulting her and one of her friends, to the degree she’d now told him she no longer wanted him as her personal bodyguard.
Well, fuck that, Killian decided as he followed after her with long strides. He wasn’t prepared to allow anyone else, and that included one of his cousins, to take over as Natalia’s lead bodyguard. He was the one who protected her, and no other fecker was taking his place.
Natalia didn’t even look at him as she buttoned her coat against the chill late-night air before sweeping out the door of the nightclub held open for her by the burly security guys. Luke followed closely on her heels.
The security guy gave Killian a sympathetic glance when he followed them outside.
Killian had to stop himself from catching up with Natalia and berating her again for how irresponsibly she was behaving. She was as aware as he was that, as Leon’s daughter, she was a vulnerability that could be used against her father.
Two years ago, she’d argued heatedly against the idea after Leon informed her that now she’d left her private school, she would be having a full-time security team of her own. Natalia had eventually worn Leon down, alternately using sweet talk and anger, until that security team had been whittled down to just Killian and the two men he’d trained to assist him in protecting her.
To Killian’s relief, despite having an amazing talent in art, Natalia had vetoed going to university and opted instead to take time off to travel to the many different fashion shows around the globe. Protecting her when she attended classes at a university would have made his job more difficult.
It could sometimes be a strain keeping up with Natalia’s mercurial moods and changes of location. But alternately, she would then decide to return to the family estate near New York and spend weeks, or sometimes month
s, in her suite of rooms there, not even bothering to go out in the evenings.
That didn’t happen very often but Killian freely admitted he liked those time the best. Not because he didn’t have to work twenty-four-seven, but because he knew, with all the security Leon had in place at the estate, that Natalia was completely safe.
Right now, she was obviously so angry with him, she didn’t give a damn about her own safety.
Because Killian had fucked up. Not only that, but he’d tried to hide that fuckup by mocking Natalia. He’d been protecting himself and had hurt Natalia in the process. To add insult to injury, he’d then acted like a jealous idiot about Henri Asselin.
Because Natalia, for all her taunting and teasing, was also the sexiest woman Killian had ever seen. Five feet two inches of sensual woman. Moreover, a woman who made Killian’s cock perk to attention the moment he looked at her at the start of each new day. Usually, he was good at hiding that physical evidence of his response to her, but that had been impossible to do when he’d allowed her to challenge him into dancing with her.
Which was no excuse for the insulting conversation that had followed.
He sighed heavily, knowing he owed Natalia an apology.
Chapter Three
Killian scowled when Natalia patently ignored him as he got in the back of the limo beside her. He tersely instructed the driver to take them back to their hotel. Also, on Killian’s instructions, his two men were following behind them in a cab. He liked to have an outside view of what was going on rather than put all Natalia’s security in one car.
She kept her face averted to look out the side window as they drove along the Champs-Élysées to the distinctive landmark of the Arc de Triomphe.
Crowds of people were still partying on the street, despite it being one o’clock in the morning. Paris, like New York, was a city that stayed open twenty-four-seven but literally came alive at night.
Killian (Dance with the Devil 3) Page 2