Page 93 of Arrogant Bastard

“No problem,” I murmur, my own fear beginning to mount.

He continues to kiss and mutter words of gratitude in my ear, whatever residual emotions left by the demons slowly leaving his body. While I sink deeper into my own hell.

Lisa Channing and her little show of lust triggered my own questions. Questions that are killing me to keep inside.

Just ask him!

I open my mouth, but my vocal cords refuse to work. Or maybe I don’t care as much as he did. Bullshit. I care. But maybe I don’t need to know just yet. Tomorrow would be fine.

I pull away from him. He raises my chin and kisses me before releasing me. With a wide, increasingly smug, cheese-eating grin. I turn away sharply.

“I’ll…I’ll go check on dinner,” I mutter, and I hurry, cringing as I go. Debbie will throw me out of the kitchen in two seconds flat. But at least I’ll have two seconds to deal with the brutal anguish raking through me.

The thought of Killian sleeping with anyone else…

God.

True to form, Debbie glares at me when I walk into the kitchen. Like how I feel about Killian, she’s madly jealous about her kitchen.

“I just need some water.”

She intercepts me with a bottle she produces out of thin air. I sigh, take it from her, and escape through a series of connecting doors to an atrium filled with climbing vines. I’m taking deep breaths to calm myself when I sense him behind me. I slowly turn around.

He’s lounging in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed on my face. “You never asked me your question.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m good.”

“Bullshit. You look as miserable as I felt five minutes ago.”

I can’t deny it so I shrug.

He steps toward me. “Faith.”

I back away. “I said I’m good!”

“I jacked off. A lot. To images of you. To the memory of you. And it helped at first. Until it didn’t.”

Oh God. “I’d really prefer not to know—”

“Then I decided to torture myself even more by saving it for special occasions. On your birthday. On the anniversary of the day we met. The first time we fucked. That time you cried when I took you to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Things like that. I’m a sick bastard, I know.” He laughs. “But at least it gave me something to look forward to.”

I know I’m standing there with my mouth open, but for the life of me, I can’t shut my gaping hole.

“But there was never anyone else, sweetheart. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. You’re the only one for me. I’m hooked on your beautiful face, your exquisite body, and your sweet, tight, gorgeous pussy.”

Words that will never make it into poetry history books, but they move me enough to evoke tears. I’m a blubbering wreck by the time he crosses the room and snatches me into his arms. I cling to him, muttering incoherent words as he trails kisses all over my face. His hands are busy too, gliding down my body to cup my ass in a firm, carnal hold. “As for this incredible ass, I get fucking stupid every time I look at it,” he confesses in an almost mournful voice.

My tears turn to laughter. He smiles and then laughs too.

“Well…” I deliberately pause.

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, what?”

“I’m kinda stupid about you too.”

His eyes darken, and his features slowly tighten. “All of me?” he asks with a new tension that speaks to the enormity of my answer and what it’ll mean to him.

I swallow the lump in my throat and take another step onto the path of no return. “Yes, Killian. All of you.”

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