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Three nights.
Three nights haunted by dreams of him. Sometimes he’d be holding me, gentle and sweet, and other times, he was terrifying as he held a knife to my throat. There were parts of me that believed Kai saved me from the fire because there was good in him. That he wouldn’t hurt my father or me. That maybe Kai wasn’t as bad as I thought.
“Jesus. I’ve lost it.” What was I thinking? He had a knife. He held it to my throat. He worked for people who were obviously dangerous.
And he hadn’t been in contact in three days. I was worried he’d decided to forgo the deal. What then? What would happen to my father?
I’d called my dad numerous times a day, trying to sound normal while inside I freaked out. Kai had given him a week, that was if he decided not to take my deal. That meant my dad was safe for four more days. But it didn’t stop my anxiety. Everywhere I went, I constantly looked over my shoulder, wondering if Kai was behind me or around the next corner; if he was watching me.
God, I was driving myself crazy.
Outside was dark, but the moonlight filtered through the sheer white curtains into my loft. It was an open-concept apartment with fifteen-foot ceilings, exposed ducts, brick walls and no partitions except for the bathroom. My father had insisted I live in a secure, newer building after the fire, so he bought the loft, which was within walking distance to school. An investment, he’d said. I’d argued that it was too much even though he had the money. He’d pointed out the fact that I was on scholarship from all my hard work in high school and he hadn’t paid for my university.
And I loved my loft. It was close to school in a small, six-story, quaint building with security guards, and was quiet so I could study.
Not wanting to go back to sleep and slip into another Kai dream, I slid my legs over the side of the bed to get up and that was when it hit me. His cologne. The scent I’d never forget. Never. It lived inside me, whether I wanted it to or not. Now that it was connected to Kai, it made it that much more powerful.
And it lingered in the air.
I quickly flicked on the bedside light then stood, letting the sheet drop. I wore my usual boxer shorts and a spaghetti-strap pink nightshirt, but suddenly I felt… exposed.
Numerous emotions flooded me all at once. Fear took the lead, but a close second was the fact that my body was hyperaware of him. After three nights of dreaming about him, thinking about him, the heightened awareness amplified.
I stepped off the platform my bed was perched on and the hardwood creaked beneath my bare feet. The sound echoed in the silence and I shivered as my eyes scanned my loft.
Had he been here and left? But how could he get into my place?
I listened for movement, while my gaze searched the shadows. My pulse throbbed beneath the thin layers of skin on my wrists and throat as I waited for the moment I saw him.
But there was no sign of him and the only sound was the streetcar squealing on the tracks outside my open window.
I walked into the kitchen, my heart finally settling back to a quiet rhythm. I reached into the cupboard and took out a glass then set it on the counter. Maybe the stress was making me imagine things. I was on the sixth floor, and we had security. There was no chance he could get into my loft without me knowing.
I laughed to myself as I opened the fridge and the blaring light flickered once before it turned on. I leaned over and shuffled containers around until I found the orange juice. I pulled it out, stepped back and went to close the fridge with my foot when hands settled on my hips.
I screamed, the juice carton slipping from my grasp and landing on the floor. The orange liquid splattered the stainless steel fridge and pooled at my feet.
My pulse raced and nerves sparked. His scent was magnified a hundred times stronger as he stood directly behind me, his breath a warm caress against the back of my neck. Goose bumps were having a field party.
“Kai.”
“Mmm,” he murmured next to my ear. “Were you expecting someone else?”
The fridge suctioned closed and with it, the light it offered. “No.”
“Good to hear.” His grip tightened on my hips and my breath hitched when one of his fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my boxers and made contact with my skin.
Holy shit. I stopped breathing. Why did I feel something? No, it wasn’t just something. It was my body reacting to his touch, liking his touch.
