Page 17

Nic

The taxi slows as we pull up to a sleek black building, the gold Fortis lettering catching the late-afternoon sun. I double-check the address Kai emailed me, and the cabbie confirms—this is the place.

Relief and disappointment hit me in equal measure.

I hadn’t known what to expect, but some small, stupid part of me had thought it might be a home address.

Instead, I’m standing in front of one of his hundred-plus luxury fitness centers scattered across the States.

It doesn’t get more impersonal than this.

I’ve never stepped foot inside a Fortis Gym before—decidedly out of my price range—but as I walk through the automatic glass doors, it feels like stepping into an entirely different world.

It’s not just a gym. It’s a fitness empire.

Behind walls of glass, high-end workout studios stretch across multiple floors like storefronts in a luxury shopping center.

I spot a yoga studio next to a high-intensity interval training room where people sprint on curved treadmills.

Just beyond that, a large swimming pool stretches beneath an arched skylight, its surface casting rippling reflections across the ceiling. A rock-climbing wall soars up three stories, wedged between two pilates studios.

Everywhere I look, it’s curated, glossy, excessive.

Of course it is.

The reception desk, a massive slab of black stone, sits in the middle of the lobby like a command center.

The staff behind the desk are tall and sculpted, their black polos hugging torsos that probably have a negative body fat percentage.

One of them offers me a professional smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “Um, I’m here to see . . . um, Chase Mitchell?”

His expression doesn’t shift as he looks me over, then types something into his touchscreen monitor. “Are you Nicole?”

“Nic Abbott, yes.”

He nods, taps a few more times, then looks up. “He’s on the fifth floor. You can head up, but the elevator is restricted-access beyond the second floor, so you’ll need to take the stairs the rest of the way.”

Great.

His gaze flicks to my sleeveless maxi dress, and his brows lift slightly, like he’s trying to make sense of my outfit choice. “Do you have a jacket?”

I frown, thinking of the knitted shrug stuffed in my bag. It’s warm in here, so I don’t see why it matters.

“I’m fine,” I say, shouldering my bag.

He nods toward the staircase. “You can’t miss the double doors at the end of the corridor. He’s waiting for you.”

I murmur a thanks and turn toward the elevator, my nerves ratcheting a few hundred notches up.

By the time I reach the fifth floor, my pulse is pounding.

I step into a carpeted hallway, the lighting dimmer than the bright open space below. The air is crisp, the soft whir of the air conditioning the only sound as I stop in front of a heavy oak door.

The door swings open without a sound, revealing a private gym—smaller, but no less impressive. Two treadmills face a massive TV screen, weights and resistance bands meticulously arranged in precise rows. Every inch of the space screams efficiency, control.

A blast of cold air hits me, laced with the scent of fresh mint. I shiver, remembering the receptionist’s offhand comment about a coat.

It was cold in that hotel suite too.

What is it with him and the cold?

A rhythmic thud—thud—thud pulls my attention past the treadmills, past the neatly stacked equipment, straight to the heavy punching bag in the corner.

Kai.

Shirtless.

His broad back gleams under the low light, muscles shifting like liquid steel with every brutal strike.

God, I’d love to see him swim in real life.

I shake off the thought just as he freezes. As if realizing I’m here, he turns, his gaze slowly flicking over me. Then, without a word, he grabs two towels from the rack and drapes one around his neck.

I cross my arms, unsure if I’m warding off the chill or bracing myself for whatever comes next.

“Want me to turn up the heat?” He asks as he steps closer to me.

The edge of his voice—smooth, amused—tells me he already knows I’m freezing.

I tighten my arms around myself. “I don’t imagine I’ll be here long enough to need it.”

Two lines appear between his brows, Then, in an infuriatingly casual move, he lifts the second towel and drapes it over my shoulders.

“I don’t need this,” I say, resisting the ridiculous urge to bury myself in the warmth of the thick material.

Kai cocks his head, studying me with quiet amusement. “Well, now you’ve got a choice. You can throw it off.”

I scowl, unsure if it’s worth doing just that just to prove a point.

He steps back then leans against the treadmill. “So, you’re . . . a student. You told me you were a teacher.”

My chin lifts. “If I didn’t teach those kids, I’d never have been invited to your s—“”

I snap my mouth shut, catching myself just in time. “To Lana’s charity ball.”

Shit.

His brows furrow as he studies me like a puzzle with a missing piece.

Before he can ask how I know Lana is his sister, I turn the tables.

“You told me your name was Kai,” I say, hoping it throws him off.

Something flashes in his eyes—quick, unreadable. “Kai is my real name.”

Of course, I already know that. It’s a name with so many disturbingly apt meanings, as if tailor made for this man.

My fingers dig into the towel. “And Chase? That’s not your name?”

His expression shutters. “What do you think?”

I shrug. “I think we both left a few things out.”

He watches me for a long time, and I get the sense he’s debating what to say. A shocking contrast from last night.

“You left,” he accuses softly.

I snort. “What—did I hurt your feelings by not saying goodbye?”

His lips twitch, not quite a smile. He pushes off the treadmill and takes a step closer.

The air shrinks. His scent—rain-soaked grass—thicker now that he’s been working out, curls into my lungs. I can’t even try to hold my breath. He smells too fucking good.

Slowly, he lifts a hand to my jaw, then slowly traces his thumb over my lower lip.

My nipples tighten painfully, my breath catching before I can stop it.

He’s your professor, Nic. You’re asking to be drawn and quartered along the streets of Valencia.

“Nicole.”

God, I hate how much I like the way my name sounds on his lips. “What?” I snap, forcing myself to take a step back.

Something flickers in the depths of his unusual eyes. “Who was the boy who followed you out of the lecture hall?”

My brows knit. “Barry?”

“No. The other one.”

Theo.

My spine locks tight. “That’s none of your business.”

He laughs—a deep, rich mocking sound that shocks me by how much I like it, despite knowing the asshole is laughing at me.

Because he knows exactly who Theo is.

“Look, was there a reason you called me here? Beyond the whole gawking, I mean?”

His eyes flash, more hazel than chocolate, and without answering, he turns around and gets on the treadmill, presses a few buttons, then breaks into a jog.

I think I just did something to him—pissed him off, maybe—and he needs to get himself under control.

Good.

“This is a complication,” he finally says, his tone deceptively neutral.

“Well done for stating the obvious,” I snark. “This is the last fucking thing I need right now. I can tell you that much.”

He raises a single eyebrow.

I exhale. “I live in Valencia, which you know is the capital of cruel gossip.”

He slows his jog, stops, then steps off the treadmill.

“And why would I know that, Nicole?” His voice is dangerously soft.

My stomach plummets.

Shit. I’ve done it again.

My words trip over themselves as I scramble to backtrack. “Oh, well, I just thought you might’ve heard about it. It’s only an hour away, and well, you live in L.A..”

“I don’t live in L.A..”

No, you don’t. You live in a quiet, frozen town in the Swiss Alps, and I feel like a fucking fraud standing here, pretending I don’t know that.

I clear my throat. “I see. Anyway, what I’m saying is, we’re both private people. I don’t want this turning into a spectacle any more than you do.”

I shrug off the towel and toss it aside.

“Since I can’t afford to drop your course, here’s what we’ll do, Kai. You’ll act like you don’t know me, and in exchange, I won’t breathe a word about what happened between us. Let’s leave it at that.”

He’s had the upper hand for too long. I’m taking back control.

I turn to leave, feeling a rush of triumph at the way his jaw flexes, the deep grooves between his brows. But I only make it three steps before his voice cuts through the air like a whip.

“That would be ideal if I actually gave a fuck what people thought.”

I stop.

“You don’t care about your brand?” I ask, without turning back.

“That I slept with a grown woman? What does that have to do with my brand?”

His next words skewer me.

“You’re the one who needs to keep your small-town reputation intact. And you’re the one who can’t afford to fail my course. The one wearing another man’s ring. The way I see it, you’re the one who needs me to be quiet.”

“What do you want, then?” I ask, still without turning around.

Heat flares at my back a second before a muscular arm wraps around my waist, dragging me into his chest.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my traitorous body not to respond to his proximity.

“I want to know,” Kai murmurs, his voice a velvet rasp. “How many times have you thought about me since that first night?”

I suck in a breath.

“Do you wish I touched you more?” His lips graze my temple, not quite a kiss, but it’s enough to send shivers racing down my spine. “Fucked you?”

“Get over yourself—” I jerk forward, breaking his hold. But he drags me back. Hard.

My back collides with his chest, his grip tightening over my waist, pressing me even closer so I feel not only every ridge of muscle on his torso but the steely length of his cock against my lower back.

“Because I can’t get you out of my head.” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “For two days, I’ve ached for you.”

A tremor wracks through me.

His fingers skate up my arm, slow and teasing, before tangling in my ponytail. Winding tightly. Tilting my head back.

“And then suddenly, you’re there. Strolling into my class like a fucking wet dream.”

I swallow hard.

“Kai—”

“You have no idea the things I’m going to do to you,” he murmurs, tightening his grip. “The things you’re going to let me do to you.”

A strangled sound escapes my throat.

Oh, God. A fresh wave of heat slides between my legs—soaking, aching.

“Stop,” I whisper.

He spins me in one swift move, not letting go of my braid, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

“Try saying that a little louder.”

His free hand grips my wrists, dragging my palms forward, pressing them—flush—against his abs.

Heat radiates from his skin, muscles hard and unyielding beneath my fingers. My breath falters as I lose the battle and flex my palms against his abs. And then, as if with a mind of their own, my hands slowly creep upward, over his pecs and his tight nipples, until they rake into the silky hair at his nape.

Lust floods my bloodstream, and my breath quickens. I hate that he’s not fighting fair.

“Well?” Kai taunts.

I resist for a second, then rise on tiptoes the same moment his mouth descends on mine, tearing a sharp gasp from my lips.

My fingers curl into his sweat-damp skin, tangling in his hair. My lips part under his insistence, and a low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest when I slide my tongue against his.

His free hand skims down, sparking heat in its wake, until it grips my hip. Then he yanks me against him, his erection pressing hard into my belly.

He explores my mouth with slow, perfect strokes of his tongue, like he’s committing every inch to memory. Every flick, every taste. His groans are low, breathless, like my mouth is the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

Desire pools between my thighs. I moan, my leg lifting, curling around his thigh.

As if knowing exactly what I need, his grip flexes on my ass, lifting me just enough to drag my clit against his steel-hard length.

I gasp. The pressure, the friction, the heat—it’s too much and not enough.

His hand in my hair tightens, angling my head, deepening the kiss. His teeth graze my bottom lip, a slow drag before he releases it, and my knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck.” His voice is rough, frayed at the edges. Like he’s unraveling.

Like I did that to him.

I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I grind against his length, desperate for friction, for anything.

The world tilts.

One second, I’m standing; the next, my back is against the cold padding of the gym floor.

Kai is over me before I can even process it, drowning me in his heat. One large hand cradles my head, the other drags my maxi dress up—higher, higher—until the fabric bunches at my waist.

A moan escapes me as he settles between my legs—a solid weight I can’t wait to feel stretching me open. Suddenly, it’s all too real. Too intimate—not the quick, closure fuck this was supposed to be.

Shutting my eyes tightly against the rush of feeling, I open my mouth to tell him to hurry up, but his hips flex against my clit, grinding deep. White-hot friction bursts through me and I cry out, my eyes snapping open.

His gaze pins me in place. “I’m going to fuck with your head, Nicole Abbott. And you’re going to let me.”

My heart stutters with equal parts arousal and fear. What the fuck does that mean?

His mouth is at my throat, a sharp nip at my pulse point, just enough to make my thighs tremble and my back arch.

“I’m going to ruin you so thoroughly you won’t be able to have, or feel, any other man after me.”

Okay, this is getting unhinged.

“Kai—”

He takes my knee in one hand and spreads me wide beneath him, and I lose my train of thought.

“Tell me to stop.”

His eyes stay locked on mine as his fingers skim the crotch of my panties, back and forth. Unhurried strokes that only make me want him more.

I realize he’s giving me a chance to back out.

I barely recognize my own voice when I whisper, “Do it—”

A sharp tug, and I flinch at the cool draft on my pussy.

His gaze drops, and a low, obscene groan leaves him as he slowly runs a single finger down my drenched slit. Back and forth. Like he did with the lacy edge of my panties.

My back arches, a helpless response to the teasing motion.

He brings his finger up to show me. It glistens—coated in my arousal.

“I have no fucking words,” he rasps.

Then, to my shock, he presses his finger to my lips.

“Taste yourself.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but my tongue flicks out anyway, swirling along his finger, tasting the faint saltiness of myself.

He watches, his breathing heavy, raw. Then he dips down, gathers more, and does it again.

I should be embarrassed. I should feel exposed. But I don’t. I just want more.

Two fingers slide inside me, and I moan, arching up in desperate relief.

“Jesus Christ, Nic,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He doesn’t move for a second. Just breathes.

Then he scissors his fingers, stretching me, before curling them slightly—finding the spot that makes my entire body jolt.

Pleasure floods through me. My nails bite into his shoulders.

I can’t breathe. “Kai—”

And then—his fingers are gone.

A needy, broken sound slips from my throat. “Don’t stop.”

But he’s gone too still.

My dazed eyes flutter open—only to find his locked on me.

Dark. Intent. Unreadable.

And then—he brings a foil packet to his mouth, teeth catching on the edge, tearing it open.

Oh shit.

A ridiculous, breathless urge to thank him wells in my throat because I wouldn’t have remembered. Which is insane, because I’ve never—ever—had sex without a condom.

But right now, on this gym floor, I would have let Kai fuck me bare.

And then—I feel him at my entrance.

Hard. Hot. Blunt.

And maybe a little too big.

As if sensing my body needs space, he takes my knee and presses it wider, holding it against the floor.

My pulse slams into my throat.

“Can you take it hard?”

My eyes widen and my mouth goes dry. “Um. I don’t—not sure—”

“You can let me know in a minute.”

Oh shit, he’s going to do it.

And then—he thrusts inside me. A single, slow, agonizing slide.

I cry out, my fingers digging into his shoulders, searching for purchase.

The stretch is too much. Too deep.

I can’t breathe. My body struggles to adjust, trying to comprehend this level of fullness—how the fuck is he so hard? And hot—almost scorching.

He pulls back—then thrusts again.

A strangled noise leaves me.

Kai stills.

The hand cradling my head shifts, his thumb dragging slow, soothing circles over my temple.

It’s like he’s giving me a moment.

And then—he moves.

This time, he doesn’t stop.

My spine bows off the floor. My mouth parts on a soundless moan.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re taking it.”

His voice is a drug—velvet and steel, wrapping around me, pulling me under as he fucks me deep. Hard.

Pleasure coils tight, winding low in my belly, an unbearable pressure gathering, pushing me too fast to the edge of release—only to dissolve the moment he withdraws.

He thrusts again—deep, rough—and I whimper, body straining for more, for something just beyond my grasp.

The tension tightens, tightens, tightens—

But never breaks.

His grunts, his smell, his sweat on me, God, the way he looks every time he sinks deep inside me, and the never-ending ebbs and dips. The promise of relief hovering just out of reach.

It’s heaven and hell. Pure torture.

I bite my lip, frustration curling inside me. My hips jerk up, desperate for that final push—

It doesn’t come.

After what feels like hours, I’m at the point where I could go insane with pure, unfulfilled need. I have to come or die from it. My hand snakes down to where we’re joined, desperate to just let go—

A roughly exhaled curse, and Kai catches my wrist in his calloused grip, stilling me.

I blink up at him, confusion swimming through my haze. “What are you doing?”

“Let me, Nic.”

Before I can protest, he reaches for the discarded towels on the floor.

Suddenly—my hips are lifted, and he’s sliding the rolled-up towels beneath me.

And everything changes.

The next thrust—deep, precise—hits something devastating.

Blinding heat crashes over me, so fast, so violently, it feels unreal.

“Jesus—Kai!” I scream, my muscles clenching down on him like a vice.

A low, guttural groan tears from his throat.

“There you go,” he growls, snapping his hips faster.

My vision blurs.

“Kai, wait. Hold on.” My pulse roars in my ears, my thighs start shaking.

“No.” His wicked laugh scrapes down my spine. “You wanted it. This is what it feels like. Now lie there and take your cock like a good girl.”

I shake my head. I can’t—

Kai doesn’t let up, driving into me harder, faster, every thrust ripping me apart, forcing me to take him deeper, dragging me closer to the edge.

The roaring in my ears grows deafening. My body turns traitor, trembling uncontrollably, spiraling into an abyss of pleasure too big to contain.

And then finally—I break.

Like a riptide, a thunderclap, a fucking avalanche.

Screams tear from my throat, but they sound distant—like I’m outside my body, watching myself come undone.

Kai’s pace doesn’t falter. He holds me down, fucking me through the crisis, relentless and devastating.

I’m drowning in it.

My fingernails bite into his shoulders, holding onto his solid frame as my body liquefies, convulsing—until there’s nothing left except waves of pleasure rolling through me.

And then—nothing.

The next thing I’m aware of is warmth. A steady rhythm. Fingers brushing against my cheek. My skin feels hypersensitive, every nerve lit up and raw.

I blink, my vision sharpening—and find Kai staring down at me.

For a moment, there’s nothing else. Just him. Those dark brown eyes, the fiery inner ring of hazel.

For a heartbeat, something tender flickers between us. Something dangerous.

But then—the look shutters.

His warmth vanishes as he pulls out of me, and I swear I feel the loss like a wound.

Panic rushes up my throat. What the fuck.

I exhale slowly, pulling myself upright as Kai stands. He moves across the room with that same effortless, feline grace—discarding the condom, padding back toward me on bare feet.

Bare feet. Interesting I’m only noticing that now.

He stops in front of me, hand extended.

I stare at it like it’s a foreign object.

“Come on, Nicole.”

I don’t move. My limbs are molten, my mind a haze.

His brows lift, like he’s reading my thoughts.

“What, you need a few more minutes before you can walk?”

Smug bastard.

I want to smack him—or at least snap something cutting—but the way he’s looking at me isn’t mocking. It’s . . . concerned. Almost gentle.

Idiot. He’s kicking you out. He can’t wait to get you out of here.

Whatever softness tried to unfurl in my chest hardens back into stone.

I take his hand, letting him pull me up, making damn sure my knees don’t buckle.

He leans against the treadmill, his arms and ankles folded, watching as I smooth my wrinkled dress, grab my bag, and school my features into icy indifference.

Back to the gawking, are we?

“Well, that was fun.” I say into the suffocating silence. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I hope we can both move on. The deal stands. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. You will—“

“Nicole.”

His voice stops me cold.

“What?”

“Lose the ring.”

For a second, I think I misheard him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice is low, controlled. “I don’t ever want to see that ring on your finger again.”

Irritation spikes through me. Who the hell does he think he is?

I lift my chin. “Or what?”

Kai steps in—so close I can see the burning intensity in his eyes.

“Or I’ll make sure he watches the next time I fuck you.”

The air punches from my lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Other than that, I’ll see you in class, Miss Abbott.”

I open my mouth, desperate for a comeback—something sharp, something scathing—

But Kai’s already turned away, resuming his assault on the punching bag, picking up right where he left off when I walked in.

Fantastic. Now I’m just standing here, gaping like a goldfish with a concussion.

I tear myself off the spot I’m rooted to and practically dive out the door, the leather strap of my bag biting into my palm as I grip it tight.

It’s not until I’m in a cab, speeding back to Valencia, that I finally let myself process what just happened.

I fucked my professor.

The man I stalk.

The man I hate.

My sister’s ex, who may or may not have murdered her.

And now—he’s not backing off.

Which means my fantasy just became a nightmare.