Page 26 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“Maybe,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now.
“You don’t have to worry about him.”
Kit laughed, but there was no humour there. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“I promise you I’ll deal with it. He doesn’t get to do that to you,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Not to you.”
Kit said nothing, and in the silence I could swear I heard him thinking, turning over what I’d said.
“I’m serious, Kit. If he comes near you again?—”
“Then I’ll be prepared.”
“But you shouldn’t have to be.”
We lapsed back into silence. Kit’s body, flush against mine, relaxed, as once more his fingers resumed their gentle exploration.
I closed my eyes and leant into his touch without meaning to. When I opened them again, Kit was watching me, his gaze steady, as though waiting for an answer to a question.
“This is new for me. All of it.” Words I never thought I would say to any man.
“Like this, you mean? How we are now?”
I hesitated, my fingers curling. “Yes. Afterwards. Not wanting to run. Just wanting to be.”
For a moment, Kit didn’t say anything. Then he smiled, a small, almost shy thing. “It feels like we were meant to find each other. That we’re kind of like a lock and a key, or two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.”
The idea that this, whateverthiswas, was somehow ordained, dug deep into me. Just weeks before I’d have laughed it off, dismissing it with a sneer for the ridiculous fairy tale I’d have believed it to be, but in the warmth of the bed…
Silence, once more, wound itself around us, but this time it felt easier, lighter. I let my fingers trail up across his body, feeling each steady thud of his heartbeat against my ribs.
There was no need to fill the silence with words, no need to be anything other than what I was in that moment: just a man, lying next to someone I didn’t want to let go of.
“I don’t know what this is,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “but I don’t want it to stop.”
“Then let’s not let it.”
I pulled him closer, surprised at how right it felt, his body fitting against mine like it had always belonged there. I didn’t question it. I didn’t analyse it. I just let myself feel it. But more than anything, I knew I didn’t need, or want, to fight it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALEX
I sank lower into the over stuffed sofa, releasing a deep breath.Kit. Just saying his name to myself made me feel better, helped to loosen some of the knots that were pulling me tight.
When I’d eventually fallen asleep, with Kit wound around me, I’d slept long and deep, better than I ever had. Waking up, my mind had been clear of the low level edginess that always seemed to be with me. I could have stayed in bed with him all day, and had been about to suggest it, when he’d told me he had to go home and get packed, because he was having to go away for work for a couple of days. He’d been gone only a matter of hours, and I was missing him, and all the tension had flooded back, poisoning my blood and holding all my muscles in its iron grip.
It took a force of nature to stop me from grinding my teeth. It hadn’t only been anger that had boiled up in me when Kit had told me about Kelvin forcing himself into his home, it had been fear, too. All the hard edged smiles, no explicitthreat but a threat all the same, it was classic Kelvin M.O. I’d seen it in action so many times over the years I barely noticed it anymore, yet this time it’d sent ice down my spine. Because I’d also witnessed what could happen next. My first instinct was to confront Kelvin in a flashy display of fury, but flashy displays were never my thing.
I was too jumpy to sit still, and I sprang up and stalked around the lounge I knew so well. Unlike my own minimalist, modern apartment, Kelvin’s house was a burst of Victoriana at its most exuberant. Period features restored to their original glory were the jewels in the crown of the large, detached villa that sat behind shrubs, trees, and electronic gates in the heart of Little Venice in west London. Dark wood bookshelves were crammed with leather bound books I doubt he’d ever read; artwork and sculptures adorned the walls and every available inch of space. It was all too much for me, too over the top, too suffocating. Just as Kelvin sometimes was.
The collage of photographs on the wall caught my attention. I’d seen it so many times I hardly spared it a glance anymore, yet this time it drew me and I leant in, peering at literal snapshots of my life.
In almost every single one, it was just us, with no space for anybody else. Kelvin with his arm slung over my shoulders with me leaning into him; Kelvin standing behind me with his arms circling my waist and holding me tight. Photo after photo, Kelvin staring into the lens, defiant, cocky, and confident. I was staring into the camera lens, too, but my gaze was more guarded, my smile more hesitant. A copy of the photo I had at home, of the two of us outside Euphoria on the day we’d taken possession. The club had been the first real, solid brick in the wall of our business, a business I fundamentally, absolutely, wanted to change even if I hadn’t yet come anywhere close to working out the details or how I was goingto persuade Kelvin. Yes, I’d seen the photos so many times over the years but it was as if I were really and truly looking at them for the first time.
Possession. The word burst in my head. It’s what I looked like, in every single one. A possession. Kelvin’s possession as he held on tight and smiled into the camera with dark, sharp, intelligent eyes and a confidence that boarded on arrogance. I turned away, from the photos and the creeping discomfort.
Where the hell was he? Kelvin had gone to make coffee ages ago.
