Page 89 of Claiming Atlas

I open my mouth to call him out on his bullshit, but he slides his hands over my cheeks and pulls my head to his, pressing his lips over mine. For a split second, I kiss him back.

For a split second, I let myself feel the way it feels when Atlas has his lips on mine and the rest of the world melts away.

For a split second I forget that he came here to pay me off.

I break the kiss, even though losing that connection to him chips another deep fissure into my heart, then I open the door and wipe my mouth. “Please go.”

“Kayla, please, just hear me out—”

“Fine. If you won’t go, then I will.” I step out into the hallway and rush down the stairs in what might be a move that’s more immature than ripping his face out of the band poster.

“Kayla!”

Ignoring his voice, I grab the keys to my Jetta off the hook on the wall at the base of the stairs, then turn and slam right into my mom.

“Mom...” I fight for something to say.

“Now, Kayla, you’re a grown woman, and I try to stay out of your business, really I do.” I look past her; my car is just a few yards away. She crosses her arms and moves so we’re eye to eye again. “But if you don’t run your narrow ass right back up those stairs and hear that boy out, you’re grounded.”

I scoff. “I’m sorry?”

She shakes her head at me. “You heard me. Now go.” She points upstairs, and I turn around and look up at the beautiful man standing in my upstairs hallway.

I grumble on my way up, but she just laughs.

Evil woman.

I walk past him and go back into my room, waiting for him to follow. When he comes back in, I close the door.

“You done?” His lips twitch on a smile.

“You have five minutes.”

He looks me up and down, then smiles playfully. “Oh, I need much more time than that, Kayla.”

I cross my arms and ignore the heat that rushes everywhere he looks, as if the energy in my body rushes around in a frenzy to meet his gaze. I narrow my eyes. “How much time?”

He meets my gaze and all playfulness is gone. “A lifetime.”

I rock back on my heels, but don’t say anything.

He stands and slowly makes his way toward me. “See, I already talked to Scarlet, Kayla, and I am well aware that any money I give you will be”—he pauses and looks up at the corner of my ceiling—“how did she say it? Oh, yes, pity money.”

I grimace.

“So, contrary to what you assumed, I’m not here to pay you.”

He takes another step toward me. There’s only about a foot between me and the door, and only two feet between me and Atlas, and goddammit, Mom, why is my room so freaking small?

“So, since I can’t invest in your school myself—”

“You don’t know anything about my school.”

“I know enough.”

Scarlet is dead meat.

He pulls an envelope out of his hoodie. “I went to see those investors in Irvine.”

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