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Lust surged through me, sweeping every piece of logic and rationality aside.
Few things in life were certain, but this I knew—if I didn’t have her soon, and if she didn’t want me as desperately as I wanted her, I would fucking die.
“Go upstairs and tell your friends you’re leaving.” I curled my hand around the back of her neck, my voice so low and dark I hardly recognized it. “You have five minutes, sweetheart, or you’ll find out firsthand that I’m not always the gentleman you think I am.”
CHAPTER 18
Isabella
Ididn’t remember what excuse I gave my friends for leaving early. I didn’t remember much at all, really, about how I ended up here with Kai at half past midnight, my heart in my throat and my body thrumming with nerves.
We were at the Barber, a bar that looked like, well, a barber shop, if barber shops served alcohol in faux shampoo bottles and employed DJs who looked like they could moonlight as models.
Unlike the chaos of Verve, this place screamed exclusivity. Engraved admission wristbands, sensual music, air redolent with the perfumes of the lucky few who knew this place existed. We were only a few blocks from the club, but it was like we were in a different world.
Anticipation fluttered beneath my skin as Kai and I passed through a velvet curtain separating the main floor from the VIP area. He was a good foot taller than me, yet our steps fell in perfect rhythm. Every once in a while, his shirtsleeve would graze my skin, or my hair would tickle his arm. Neither of us visibly reacted, but every little touch dripped into the tension already simmering around us.
You have five minutes, sweetheart, or you’ll find out firsthand that I’m not always the gentleman you think I am.
Pressure ached between my legs. After last week, I had no doubt Kai was capable of quite a few ungentlemanly things. I both loved and hated how much the prospect turned me on.
My anticipation scattered into head-to-toe tingles when the curtain closed behind us, cocooning us in a room that looked like…another barbershop. Black-and-white checkered tiles covered the floor, and black-cushioned swivel seats anchored personal bar stations. Instead of brushes, hair dryers, and gels, the stations boasted glasses, garnishes, and alcohol.
The room was oddly empty, but my heart jerked in surprise when Kai walked over to a station and knocked on the mirror. It slid open, revealing a bartender in a bow tie. He handed Kai two bottles, and the mirror shut again.
I couldn’t decide whether the setup was incredibly cool or disturbingly creepy.
Kai’s gaze sparked with amusement at whatever he saw on my face. He handed me one of the bottles, which I accepted without a word.
We hadn’t spoken to each other since we left Verve, but instead of cooling my desire, the silence amplified it. Without conversation to distract me, my mind spun off into a dozen directions—toward the basement in Bushwick, where we’d kissed for the first time; the piano room at Valhalla, where he’d given me one of the best orgasms of my life; and the dance floor at Verve, where his appearance had skyrocketed my pulse more than I cared to admit.
I didn’t take my eyes off his as I tilted my head back and downed the drink. Kai’s expression seeped with lazy interest, but his gaze scorched like I was standing too close to a fire.
“What were you doing at Verve?” I finally spoke, my curiosity overtaking my fear of upsetting the delicate balance between us. “You don’t strike me as the clubbing type.”
Vivian had mentioned something about article research, which I didn’t believe for a second. Presidents of multibillion-dollar companies didn’t run around doing grunt work.
Kai observed me with those dark, knowing eyes. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Isabella.”
A shiver ghosted over my skin. God, the way he said my name was indecent, like a wicked lover stealing kisses in shadowed corners. Smooth silk layered over dark velvet. Deceptively proper yet dizzyingly sensual.
I’d told him to stop, but in truth, I was addicted to his voice, his touch, every single thing about him. And the way he looked at me made me think I wasn’t the only one spinning out of control.
“Come here.” The soft command skated down my spine.
My feet moved before my brain could protest. One step, two steps, three, until our bodies nearly touched. His body heat licked at my skin and singed the edges of my resistance.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I breathed. “It’s against Valhalla’s rules.”
That was what I kept telling myself. I clung to the rule the way a shipwreck survivor would cling to a piece of driftwood. It was my lifeline, the only thing keeping me from drowning beneath the ferocious waves of my desire. But the pull of the tide was too great, and I could already feel my arms fatiguing. One more undertow, and I was a goner.
“I know,” Kai said, as calmly as if we were strolling through Central Park. “I don’t give a damn about the rules.”
My heartbeat tripped. “That’s unlike you.” The words came out so fast they almost blended together, but I kept talking, afraid that if I stopped, I would drown. “I thought you worshiped rules like they’re your religion. It’s the British education, isn’t it? I bet Oxbridge is quite rigid when it comes to that type of thing. Don’t you—”
“Isabella.”
I forced a swallow down my throat. “Yes?”
