As Dust Dances

by Samantha Young

  Oliver nodded, knowing I meant I’d stick my face over a bowl of boiling water with a towel over my head to steam and hydrate my vocal folds. It also got rid of any mucus in there. It was extremely sexy.

  “So, O’Dea is pretty invested in this album,” Oliver mused.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ve never seen him sit in on all the recording sessions before.”

  “Well, he helped write some of it.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose he thinks of it as his baby too.”

  “Right, right.” He leaned toward me, grinning. “I secretly think he misses producing. He’s the most ambitious bastard I’ve ever met but I wonder if he regrets moving up the ranks away from the studio.”

  As annoyed as I was with Killian, I didn’t want to gossip about him. “He loves that job. That man has no regrets. So, which note did I drop?” I changed the subject.

  We discussed the track for a while and then the door opened and Eve came hurrying in with a large brown paper bag in one hand and a cardboard cup in the other.

  “Hi!” she greeted us cheerily. I smiled in return. “I bring sustenance.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Oliver stood and helped her unpack the food.

  “Oh, and this.” Eve handed me the cup. “Herbal tea, not too hot, with honey and lemon for your throat.”

  Pleased, I smiled. “That was thoughtful, Eve. Thank you.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not from me. Mr. O’Dea told me to get it for you.”

  I inwardly harrumphed at that.

  The thoughtful gesture didn’t make me feel anything but agitated with him. I didn’t know why. I knew he was acting this way at the office to protect our secret, but his unbelievable self-control pissed me off. Sometimes I could barely concentrate when he was in the room because I was remembering the feel of his tongue on the dimples of my lower back. Or the rumble of his laughter in my ear as he held me in bed.

  How was it so easy for him to compartmentalize?

  How could he stand in a room and look at me like I was a stranger while my fingers itched to grab his shirt and pull him against me?

  I worried I was coming to need him more than he would ever need or want me, and that scared the shit out of me.

  Eve left us to eat and Oliver sat playing on his phone as he ate his sandwich. Growing more pissed by the second, I finished mine and said, “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be back in ten.”

  My producer waved me off, too engrossed in whatever was on his phone to look up. Familiar with Skyscraper Records now, I strolled down the corridors until I found myself at his office. Eve looked up from her desk where she was eating her own lunch. She swallowed a bite of sandwich too fast and choked out, “Skylar?”

  I gestured to Killian’s door. “Is your boss in his office?”

  She nodded. “I’ll check if he’s available.”

  “No need, he just called me,” I lied, walking by her to knock on his door.

  “Come in,” Killian called.

  I slipped in, closing the door behind me. When I turned to face Killian, he gazed at me with a slight frown between his brow. “Problem?”

  In answer, I walked across the room, rounded his desk, and pushed his chair back so he was facing me. As I moved to climb onto his lap, he gripped my waist and resisted.

  “What are you doing?” he bit out, annoyed.

  I dug my hands into his shoulders. “I thought that was obvious.”

  Killian pushed me away and I stumbled back. “Not here.”

  Hurt flooded me. I narrowed my eyes as he glowered up at me. “I’ve never known a man to turn down sex before.”

  Spinning the chair away from me, he got up and stood on the other side of the desk, putting it between us. “This is my office, for Christ’s sake, Skylar.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve never had any afternoon nookie in your office before?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “Oh, remove the stick from your ass, O’Dea,” I huffed, walking around the desk so I was standing in the middle of the room.

  He remained where he was, rigid and cool. “We’re supposed to be keeping our relationship a secret.”

  “Oh yeah, you’ve made that clear.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  So I put it out there. “Are we a secret? Or am I your dirty secret?”

  Killian stepped toward me, anger flushing his face, and I silently triumphed at the show of emotion. “And what the hell does that mean?” he repeated, his voice thick with displeasure.

  “Well, I’ve never been to your apartment, we always do it at mine, and then there’s the fact that you treat me with cold disinterest anytime we set foot in this place.”

  Looking baffled and increasingly annoyed, Killian ran a hand through his hair. “First, I haven’t not invited you to my flat out of some arsehole reason to keep you out of my life. Your flat is a two-minute drive from the label and it makes more sense for me to come to you straight from the office. And second . . .” He took another step toward me. “We agreed that this was how it would be while we here at the label so as not to draw suspicion. I’m treating you the same way I’d treat any of my artists.”

  But somehow that didn’t make me feel better. “It’s easy for you though.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This is a big deal for me.” I gestured around us. “Being here, recording an album. I never thought I’d be doing this again, and I’ve never done it alone. I have a whole ton of emotion about that and the one person I need to be there as a reminder that I’m not alone looks through me every time I meet his gaze.”

  He flinched but I barely registered it as I continued, shaking my head as realization hit with me the smack of disappointment. “I’m so stupid. I struggle to be in any room with you without wanting to touch you, and it’s easy for you to push me away.” Autumn was right. I never would be as important to him as his job. I shook my head, turning to leave. “I’m a fucking moron.”

  I’d only taken a couple of steps toward the door when I found myself spun around. Anger flushed Killian’s face as he gripped my biceps and then forced me back against the wall, a framed photo protesting with a squeak behind me. I gasped, pressing my hands to his chest as he pushed the length of his body into mine.

  “You think it’s easy for me,” he said, voice guttural, “that every time you step close to me and I smell you that I don’t have to fight not to get hard remembering how it felt to fuck you the night before?” His lips almost brushed mine and my heart thudded in my chest, heat flushing through me like he’d lit a fire at my feet. “I have to fight the need to touch you every time I’m near you. The only way I know how is to detach myself completely.” He grabbed my hand and slid it down his stomach to the hard-on pushing against his trousers. “Is this what you want? You want me to lose control?”

  “Yes,” I hissed, still furious because I’d let Autumn’s worries become my worries and now they were stuck there, eating at my insecurities. I squeezed his dick, making his nostrils flare. “I don’t want your control. Ever.”

  He crushed his mouth over mine and I whimpered as his hands became wild things over my body, apparently needing to touch me everywhere. I wrapped my arms around his back and widened my legs so his hot hardness pressed where I wanted it most.

  Our kisses were breathless, hungry, and wet, a complete loss of control that I relished as Killian pumped his hips against mine. We panted together as pleasure tingled down my spine from the friction of the seam of my jeans catching my clit.

  “Killian,” I gasped, rocking harder against him.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, pressing his cheek against mine. “If we don’t stop,” he pushed harder into me and groaned, “I’m going to come in my trousers like a callow bloody youth.”

  I wanted that. I turned my face, searching for his lips again.

  I was distantly aware of Killian’s office phone ringing as he tugged down the zip on my jeans and pushed them do
wn. His office answering machine clicked on as he unzipped his own jeans and then the sound of an attractive American-accented female voice echoed around the room.

  “Killian, it’s Deena. I couldn’t remember your cell but I had your office ext. saved on my phone so I hope you don’t mind me calling you at work. Anyway, you told me if I was ever back in Glasgow to look you up. The label sent me to check out this kid here who’s made a splash on YouTube. I’m staying at the Blythswood again. I’ll be there for four nights. My number here is 07384121560. I had a lot of fun with you in January so . . . I really hope you call.”

  We were silent, frozen together, as the phone call acted like blast of ice on the heat between us.

  I pushed against his chest to move out from under him, unable to look at him. I seethed with jealousy. I couldn’t remember ever feeling such a choking, burning, ugly sensation over any of the girls Micah had been with. But the thought of Killian going to this Deena person made me want to claw out her eyes.

  Killian pressed me harder into the wall and grabbed my wrists to secure them against his chest. I could feel his heart beating hard and a little too fast.

  “You know I’m not going to call her,” he said quietly, but with a hard edge to the words.

  “I know.” Yet I still couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Look at me.”

  “I really need to get back to the studio.”

  He made a noise of frustration and let go of my wrists only to grip my chin. My eyes automatically met his and he studied my face, a frown marring his brow.

  “What is going on? Why did you barge in here, accusing me of not needing you as much as you need me when I make it perfectly clear how I feel about you when we’re alone? And why the fuck are you pushing me away because of a message left by a woman I have no intention of touching?”

  I glowered at him. “You told me you never mix business with pleasure. I thought I was the exception. Turns out I’m not.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “I told you I’d never sleep with one of my artists or anyone at my label. Deena is an A&R executive from a label in New York. We met at the beginning of the year going after the same artist. I totally forgot about her until that phone call. End of story.”

  “Were you with Yasmin while you were screwing Deena?”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Are you deliberately trying to cause a fucking fight?”

  I shrugged, feeling reckless and crazy and angry. And I didn’t even really know why!

  “No,” he hissed, shoving his face in mine. “I would never do that. I’m not him.”

  I sucked in a breath. “We’re not talking about him.”

  “I think we are because I have done nothing to deserve your jealousy or insecurities and frankly, it’s pissing me off.” He shoved his hands between our bodies, releasing himself from his trousers with one, while he pushed my underwear and jeans down further with the other. Heat flashed through me—a mixture of indignation and excitement. “I’m not him.” He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, glaring at me like he was frustrated with his desire for me when I was pissing him off this badly.

  And suddenly, I felt unbearably sad for us because I’d never truly been a jealous or insecure person until Killian. And the only reason I’d feel that way is if I knew what we had wasn’t going to last.

  I slumped against his hold. “I was never like this with him. He never made me feel like this.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes for a brief second only to be clobbered by a fierceness I didn’t understand until I felt the hot heat of his dick nudging between my legs.

  Lust battled with my unwelcome melancholy. “Killian.”

  “I’m yours,” he breathed harshly against my lips. “I’ve never been anyone’s until now. Do you understand?”

  I shook my head, not sure it was enough.

  And then he thrust inside me, covering my mouth with his to muffle my cry.

  He pumped into me, our lips parting as our breaths quickened with desire. “I’m yours,” he reiterated with another thrust. “You’re mine. Say it.”

  “Killian . . .” I let my head fall back against the wall, my eyes slamming closed as sensation took over my body. I wanted to forget my fears. I just wanted to feel him inside me because when we were like this, it felt like it was forever.

  “Look at me.” He gripped my nape, forcing my head up, and my eyes opened to stare into his. “I’m yours. You’re mine. Say it.”

  When I couldn’t bring myself to, he crushed his mouth over mine and fucked me harder, faster. It didn’t take long for the tension inside me to snap and he swallowed my cry of release in his mouth before he broke away to rest his forehead against mine. His hips stilled and then juddered against mine as he came.

  Our breaths mingled as we fought to catch them.

  “I’m yours. You’re mine. Say it.”

  The problem was I wasn’t sure I really believed it now. I believed I was his. But I also believed that he truly belonged to this label more than he’d ever belong to me.

  “I’m sorry I got jealous,” I whispered. “This whole thing . . . the album . . . I . . . it’s making me a little emotional and all over the place.”

  “Skylar,” his voice was hard as his eyes blazed into mine, “say it. Or I’m going to bend you over my desk and spank your bare arse while I fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked.”

  Arousal flushed through me at the thought, fighting with indignation. Part of me would like that to play out. But it would only confuse me further. “Fine, you bastard. I’m yours.”

  “And I’m yours.”

  I dropped my gaze and he cursed under his breath before cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. It was a deep, drugging kiss, and I felt him pour himself into it until the worries eating at me were forced to the back of my mind. When he released me, his voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you. You have to believe that, Skylar.”

  Hearing the sincerity in his voice, I finally relaxed, falling against him to rest my cheek on his chest. I felt his whole body sigh with relief as he held me.

  “I’m stubborn,” I whispered.

  “I got that.”

  “It might take a while for me to hear you sometimes.”

  “I got that too.”

  “I’m sorry I barged into your office and provoked you into sex.”

  He shook against me, laughter rumbling in his voice. “Can’t say I’m especially upset about that.”

  We kissed again, softer, sweeter, the intensity of our passion momentarily quietened by release. As Killian gently eased out of me, I bit my lip. “Do you have something I can clean up with?”

  He moved away, not caring to zip himself up as he opened the door of what I thought was a stationery cupboard.

  “I didn’t know you had a private restroom in here.”

  “Stay.” He disappeared inside. When he returned, he’d put himself back to rights and had a wet washcloth in his hand.

  I reached for it but he evaded me, a possessive look in his eyes as he stepped back into my body and pressed the cool cloth between my legs. He watched me as he cleaned me up. Renewed tingling sparked to life, and I flushed at how easily this man could turn me on.

  He smirked as if he knew.

  “Don’t act so smug,” I huffed. “I’m the one who got you to break your no-sex-in-the-office rule.”

  “True,” he agreed. “But I’m the only man who makes you crazy with jealousy. I don’t think either of us has the upper hand here.”

  It was sweet of him to reassure me, but I was still feeling the pinch of jealousy. And honestly, I didn’t want to feel like the only one who got jealous. “Are you telling me that the thought of me fucking someone else doesn’t make you insane with jealousy?”

  His expression darkened and he suddenly slipped two thick fingers inside me. I gasped as he leaned into me, his hand moving between my legs. “I can’t bear thinking about it,” he admitted. “It would kill me, and I�
�d probably kill any bastard who touched you. But there isn’t going to be someone else, Skylar. My fingers, my mouth, my cock will be the only ones pleasuring you for the rest of your life. Can I make myself any fucking clearer than that?”

  Love shattered through me at the same time another orgasm did. He kissed me to soften my cry and I grabbed onto him like he was a life preserver.

  God, I loved him.

  I loved him so much.

  The last person I’d loved with this much of my soul had died.

  I clung onto him for dear life, even though I also wanted to run from how I felt.

  But I didn’t.

  The desire to be in his arms forever was much stronger than the fear of losing him.

  * * *

  IF EVE HEARD ANY OF what went on in Killian’s office that day, she never let on. As she was easier to read than an open book, I deduced that she hadn’t heard anything suspicious. Either that or she’d suddenly grown proficient at hiding her thoughts and feelings.

  We continued with the album and managed to keep our relationship private from everyone but Autumn. I did my very best to stifle my worries about our future and although he never said the words, Killian showed me every day that he loved me.

  And although he obviously wasn’t Mr. Touchy-Feely at the office, he also stopped being so cold and even started acting like we might be friends. If anyone thought that was weird, no one said so. Killian had invested more of his own time into this album than usual and I think everyone saw me as kind of a musical passion project for him . . . and not just . . . well, a passion project.

  There were no more bouts of jealousy. I knew he didn’t call Deena back to meet up with her because he spent every evening with me. Even if he hadn’t been with me I knew in my gut that he didn’t reach out to her. Despite the bargain that drew us together in the first place, I trusted Killian to never lie to me.

  As our time together wore on, however, I realized that the only way I could truly get over my fear of losing Killian was to start living outside my little bubble by the River Clyde. Although we couldn’t be in a relationship in the open yet, we needed to start being in a relationship while I was facing life and not pushing it aside. Otherwise we’d never really know how we could work as a couple in the real world.