AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I run over, blocking her exit with my tall frame and grabbing her wrists, the touch of her skin against mine a thrill I’ve never experienced. “Don’t go. Please. Just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Just… don’t go.”
Her eyes spew viciousness as she rips my hands off her and makes a run for it. But this time I’m prepared. I chase her all the way to the closed door and push her up against it, pressing my body against her so she can't run away again. I grip her chin and force her to look at me.
“Kiara.” Her name comes out in a shallow breath. “Would you fucking stop running and just look at me. Why did you run out into traffic? Did you know how fucking sick I felt, wondering if you’re gotten hurt?”
She struggles against me, her hair from her ponytail coming undone and framing her face in angry wisps. Her cheeks blaze red and her eyes are wild as they lock onto mine. Pupils dilated but raging as her top row of teeth crushes down on her bottom row before she hisses. Primal, like a cat in a cage. "What the fuck do you care about me getting hurt? You've never cared before. In fact, I think you get off on it.”
I recoil at the words. They weren't what I'd been expecting, more hurt than fighting, but my hands are still gripping her chin. It takes a beat for me to recover from the question, but when it's my turn to speak, it comes out even more hurt than hers. "Do you really think that? Do you really imagine that I'd get off on your pain? Do you really not know me at all?"
She hisses and wrenches her face out of my hand and raises her hand like she's going to slap me again, and for a second I ponder letting her do it again, just to let her frustrations out. We both know what sparked her anger and I'm surprised it's taken until now for her to bring it up. But for all of my reputation for being all sunshine and fucking rainbows, I have never taken lightly to someone slapping me, so as her hand swings down, I catch it at the wrist and push it hard against the door over her head.
"We're going to talk. I'm going to let you say anything that you need to, but we're not going down the road of violence. Got it?" I growl against her. "Whatever's happened between us, it's not going to come to that. Nod if you agree. And it'll do you well to."
Her eyes narrow to such thin slits, I can only just see her pupils pointed directly at me. Her chest billows in and out quickly, just as mine is. I blame it on struggle rather than the memory that this is how we stood outside the club in London that night.
And how I think about it almost daily.
And what it's done to my life since.
"Let. Go. Of. Me," she finally responds in a whisper so low I can barely hear it but her lips spell it out for me.
"Not until you agree that we're going to talk about things as civilly as we can."
There's a microexpression of anger, then it fades. I can only guess how hard she's trying to hold her emotions in. And the anger I'm seeing is the spillover.
There's a lot and that’s warranted.
There's another moment of internal tug-of-warring as we stare at each other and then I pull her hand down and let it go, watching her carefully the whole time. Instantly, she raises her other hand and swings. I catch it an inch from my cheek. And now she's not the only one angry, I grab her shoulders, spinning her around so that she’s facing the door and press her against it, lifting both of her hands and pinning them over her head.
"You had a chance to agree, and now there are no more chances. You want to do this the hard way? Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
“Fuck you, Kylian.”
Every single cell in my body shakes with need. It feels like the arousal came out of nowhere but I know it's been simmering under the surface for so long, and the second my eyes fell on hers in Amber, the thin veil of indifference that I built stroke by stroke was torn down. And now, my body against her, her scent in my face, her anger burning into my skin, there's nothing left but sizzling, unadulterated need for her.
She fights hard, but I have twelve inches and seventy pounds on her.
Not to mention five years worth of late night fantasies that have left me drenched in guilt and frustration. Never fully satisfying but that's never been what it was about. It was just about pushing back those visions of her face, her body, her sweet breath against my cheeks that night, so that it wouldn’t come to this, me pinning her against the door in my office, ready to give anything to taste her.
I lean in, my hips pressing against hers and wonder if she can feel my hardness. I want her to know what she’s doing to me.
My lips brush her cheek as I whisper into her ear, "Are you mad at me for what I did in London? Or are you just mad that you're jealous I wasn’t doing it to you?" My free hand reaches down for the hem of her dress, bunching it into my fist at her waist. "We can change all that now. Is that what you want?"
A shiver travels down her body.
She doesn’t say anything, and the struggling has stopped for the most part. There's occasional twisting at the waist, but I'm not sure if that's to get a good look at me but it sure doesn't feel like she’s trying to get away.
My hand drops under her dress, a finger tracing the skin of her thigh so lightly, I’m not sure she can even feel it. But then the shiver travels up her leg and back to end at the top of her spine, telling me she does.
I’m so hard I feel like I’m going to burst out of my own skin.
I trace the skin all the way to the hem of her panties and it makes me want to drop to my knees so much right now and see what she's got underneath the dress, but this isn’t about me.
This is about her.
And showing her how much I’ve regretted what happened that day.
My finger lines the seam of her panties and I reach around to her front, then brush along the slightly raised softness of her pubis.
