Page 17

He followed her home. She had no idea how she made it out of the store and had the presence of mind to key in the code, but she did.

After four in the morning. Her entire body was still trembling in the aftermath of what she considered to be the most stunning sex marathon.

He hadn't left her alone, given her any peace.

Her mind was shattered, her emotions all over the place.

She was wonderfully sore—her nipples were aching and still wet from his mouth.

Three times. That has got to be a record.

She had had so many climaxes; she had simply lost count.

Her hair was a mess—a glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that it was in tangles.

And her lips were swollen. It was a good thing there was no one around.

Her clothes were in tatters, her bra hopelessly ruined and her panties—well, she had just stuffed them into her tote because they were no longer wearable.

There were marks all over her body and she knew she had left marks on him as well.

He pulled in behind her and got out when she exited the vehicle.

"I want to come in." It wasn't a request and they both knew it.

"No. Just go away."

His brows lifted. "You really think that's going to happen?"

"Kai—"

"Let me rephrase that. I'm coming in." His expression was still mild, but the determination in his voice was unmistakable.

She stared at him, her pulse erratic, her thoughts a tangled mess. "You don't get to just decide—"

"You know I do," he interrupted, his tone low but unyielding.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his energy wrapping around her like a storm she couldn't escape.

"Tell me to stop, and mean it, and I will.

But if you're lying to yourself, to us..

." His voice dropped further, a husky whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "Then I'm walking through that door."

Her breath caught, her lips parting as she wrestled with the war raging inside her. She wanted to push him away and drag him closer at the same time. "You don't fight fair," she finally said, her voice trembling with both anger and something she refused to name.

A faint smile touched his lips, devoid of humor but filled with something far more dangerous: certainty. "I never said I did." He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek in a touch so tender it made her knees weak. "But I fight for what's mine."

And then, without waiting for her permission, he moved past her, his steps measured yet deliberate, as if he was claiming not just the space but something far more intimate.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she turned to follow, the door clicking shut behind them like the seal of a fate she couldn't undo.

"I hate you," she muttered, though the heat in her voice betrayed the truth.

He turned, his eyes locking onto hers with a fire that threatened to consume her. "No, you don't," he said simply, his confidence as maddening as it was intoxicating. "You hate how much you can't hate me."

And just like that, the fragile barrier of her resolve began to crumble all over again.

Upstairs, he insisted on them having a bath and drew it himself. She was so exhausted, she just wanted to curl under the sheets and sleep for hours. But he was right. The soothing scent of the chamomile and vanilla bath gel worked out the kinks and eased the soreness of her nipples.

And he was gentle with her, using the sponge over her body to soothe and massage. Within minutes, the tension evaporated, and she was leaning back against his chest, her eyes closed.

"I hurt you." His touch lingered over the bruise just above her left breast where he had sunk his teeth in—his control slipping away.

"Hmm." She murmured. She recalled a time ten years ago when they had shared a bath. It had been their first time together and he had been a little rough with her and angry with himself for losing control.

He had tended to her then, washing down there gently. The bath had turned into a lovemaking fest that had water splashing over the lip.

"Don't fall asleep on me." She had pinned her hair loosely on top of her head, giving him access to the back of her neck and he was finding it hard to resist. Nipping at the flesh, he wrapped his arms around her waist, venturing to cup her breasts.

"Kai—"

"I should leave you alone." He muttered. "But I can't."

"I'm not sure I have anything else in me to give."

"There's always more. But let's get you to bed." He rose and reached for towels from the neat piles near the bath. Wrapping one around her, he stepped out and swung her into his arms.

They should talk but now was not the time. He was going to have to make her understand that there was no going back for either of them, not now.

She slept through her alarm and jumped up at the insistent ringing of her phone, completely disoriented.

And the place beside her was empty. Shaking her head, she wondered briefly if she had dreamed the entire thing, but the marks and aches were testament to what had happened last night and this morning.

And she was very late for work. Grabbing the phone, she answered it while jumping out of bed.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Marge." She looked dazedly at the wet floor and the damp towels strewn around. "I overslept. Is everything okay?"

"Just a couple of clients wanting a word with you. Mrs. Ellington is up in arms about her dress for the function on Saturday. She said it needs to be taken in a couple of inches at the waist. Wishful thinking on her part. Are you coming in? You're usually not this late."

"I was there until late last night." She started picking up the towels and mopping the floor. "I'll be there within the hour."

"Okay, I'll run interference until you get here. Oh, and your mother called."

"She did?"

"Apparently, she has been trying to reach you and not getting through. See you in a bit."

"Wait—did she say what she wanted?"

"She just said you should call."

"Thanks."

Huffing out a breath, she dumped the towels into the laundry basket. A quick shower and then a phone call to her mother, she decided. She happened to take a look at herself in the mirror.

"Oh, good God!" She exclaimed, one hand gripping the tangled strands of her hair. "Wonderful. It's going to take forever to sort this out."

She called her mother on her way to the store.

"Darling, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Switching lanes, she took a brief look at herself in the mirror and realized she had to be satisfied with the not-so-neat ponytail. She had given up trying to get out the tangles. A trip to the salon, she thought in resignation. Damn him. "I worked late last night and overslept."

"You work too hard."

"I keep telling myself that." She negotiated a turn neatly that put her on the right street. "How's—where are you now?"

"Amsterdam." Adelaide said happily. "It's such a delightful place, I wish you were here. Are you sure you won't change your mind? We're heading to Dublin and then London."

"Can't. The trunk show is coming up as well as the winter showing. I have lots going on." She wondered what her mother would say about her meeting up with Kai.

"How's Brutus? I miss the old fleabag."

"He's at a neighbor's." She had been out the door before she remembered to call and prevail on Angie to keep him for another day. "Where's Dad?"

"Smoking his darn pipe out on the terrace and probably snoozing. Let me get him—"

"Mom, no. I'll talk to him later. I am just driving into the parking lot and have clients waiting. I will call you later."

"Make sure you do and get some rest."

"I will. Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

She hung up, parked and just sat there. The bushes needed trimming, she thought idly.

He had been gone when she woke up. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.

It had felt like heaven sleeping next to him, her body pressed up against his.

She had to think. The usual chaos was starting, and it was worse than before.

Pushing the door open, she clamped down on her thoughts. It was time to get to work.

He was daydreaming. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, but since leaving her house and stopping at his apartment for a quick shower, he had been unable to get her out of his head.

Sleeping with her, holding her close to him like that had felt so right, he had not wanted to leave.

Now, here he was, in a board meeting and his mind was wandering.

He shifted in his chair, feeling the weight of the room's attention momentarily land on him as someone asked his opinion. Blinking away the memory of her laugh, he focused on the spreadsheets spread across the glossy table. The numbers blurred for a moment before snapping into clarity.

"Well," he started, commanding his voice to sound steady, "we need to revisit the projections for the third quarter. The supply chain delays are longer than anticipated, and we're going to need to recalibrate expectations."

Heads around the table nodded, pens scratched across notepads, and the conversation moved on.

Yet, in the back of his mind, she lingered, a ghost of warmth and a kaleidoscope of tangled emotions.

He thought of the way her eyes lit up when she was teasing him, the way she smelled faintly like lavender, and the way she'd slept so peacefully beside him as if she belonged there.

He glanced at his watch. He couldn't afford to let this distract him, not today.

Still, as the meeting dragged on, his resolve faltered.

He found himself scrolling through his phone under the table, contemplating whether or not to call her.

Glancing up, he realized someone had asked him another question.

Clearing his throat, he answered with a pretense of confidence, hoping no one had noticed his lapse.