Page 21 of Arrogant Bastard

“If your silence is designed to drive me crazy, you’re succeeding. Care to put me out of my misery?” The question may sound cajoling, but his voice rumbles with warning.

“I like my job. Does that count?”

“Not when your life could be in danger because of it, no. But tell me about it. I still want to know what you’ve been up to.”

“I work at a…club. An adults-only club.”

The dangerous gleam in his eyes intensifies. “Interesting,” he responds. “And your role there is…?” he asks indolently. Only the tic in his jaw and the tension whipping through his body tell a different story. As does the light of warning flaring in his eyes.

I purse my lips and answer only because it’ll save me from further interrogation later when Betty spits out the info she uncovers. “I’m the manager.”

“And what does a manager at an adults-only club do? Exactly?”

“Come on—”

“Remember the one we attended in Moscow? And Shanghai?”

I remember. Sex on tap for anyone who wanted it. Given by every employee in the club. For a discreet but handsome fee, of course. I shudder that his mind has gone there. “Killian…

“There were rules, but if I recall, they were fairly negotiable with the right incentive.”

Anger spikes my blood. “Fuck you. This isn’t that sort of club. I’m not that sort of manager.”

He exhales, and a sizable amount of his tension eases. “Glad to hear it. That doesn’t give me the whole story though.”

“And you’re not going to get it.” I head for the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To get my things. And maybe start screaming my head off if you don’t let me out of here.”

He chuckles. “I’d love to see this new, hysterical part of you.”

I reach the living room and search for my stuff. Recalling that I didn’t see my backpack here or in any of the rooms he showed me, I whirl to face him. “Where are my things, Killian?”

His breath catches. “Fuck, you have no idea how good it is to hear you say my name again. You know what would be even better?”

“Whatever it is, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it—”

“Hearing you gasp it again when I slide my cock inside that tight, little cunt. Remember how much I loved the way the decibels build the closer you get to coming right up until you scream?”

The burn is immediate. Like a flash fire from a gasoline tank, it detonates in my pelvis and spreads wide and merciless, destroying every coherent thought in its path. I fight it with everything I can muster. “Jesus, you’re as maddening as ever.”

He prowls closer. I retreat until something stops me. A quick glance shows it’s the sofa. We’ve circled back to the beginning.

“And you’re so sexy and so fucking gorgeous I’m wondering how I’m still on my feet when just looking at you rips my insides out.”

“You can’t say things like that!” I’m this close to turning into the hysterical woman he mocked a minute ago.

“Why the fuck not?”

It’s that grain of bewilderment in his tone that kills me. Killian was never shy about expressing his interest, sexually or verbally. He’s the master of dirty talk in and out of bed, and unfortunately for me, I found out that I grew stupid every time he unleashed that particular talent.

His nonsexual emotions are a different story. Despite our volcanic and oftentimes obsessive interactions, he never once told me he loved me. And I’ve never asked if he did. I was never brave enough to find out. Perhaps I knew that, without it, everything we had was just a flashy neon sign in a deserted playground that would lose its sparkle eventually, making it easier to walk away from.

Or perhaps it could’ve been because the last man who told me he loved me turned out to be a liar, a cheat, and a whole load of other things I don’t want to think about right now.

Killian stops before me and reaches out to slide his fingers through my hair. “The only way you’re leaving here is if I’m coming with you. And for that to happen, I need to be one hundred and ten percent sure that it’s safe. For that to happen, we need to hang tight for Betty to do her thing. A few times over.”

---