Page 21 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

Kiara

With the string lights woven through these towering hedges, the labyrinth appears completely different at night. It’s like we’re lost in a secret fairy world or something.

It’s all I can do to focus on the little lights, counting the bulbs as I follow Rory in silence to who knows where after completely and totally exposing myself back there . What the hell was that ?

The past few days obviously rank among the worst of my life, but are things really so upside down that I’m spilling my tragic life story to my kidnapper? I had an entire emotional breakdown back there.

In my haste, I almost revealed both my real identity and my secret.

The terrible, awful thing that he can never know.

My shoulders twitch in the evening chill.

Where is he taking me? Rory said he wanted to get me patched up. Does that mean we’re headed back to…?

Almost as soon as I figure out we’re headed back to the Gallaghers’ underground mini-hospital, the ramp that leads down and around to the entrance appears before us.

Instead of the warm lighting I remember from this morning, there is only darkness behind the sliding glass doors. It’s disorienting, but not enough to distract me from watching Rory stick his hand in a bush.

I hear the electronic beep of buttons, and then the doors to the medical unit slide open, lights flipping on automatically.

Why does it seem like we’re the only ones here?

Alarm bells chime in my head. Rory steps inside, but I don’t follow, remembering that this is the same man who stabbed me with a tranquilizer to drag me to this compound in the first place.

He turns back when he realizes I’m not behind him. “This way.”

“What are we doing here?”

His fathomless hazel eyes burn into mine in the darkness, making my heart slam against my ribs. “Just like I said. We’re going to patch you up.”

I eye him with suspicion. “And I believe you, just like that?” Leo and Matteo never helped patch me up. Not even when they inflicted the damage.

Irritation flares in his honeyed gaze. He inhales sharply, but releases the breath slowly, like he’s calming himself down. “Despite how things may appear…” he articulates carefully, “I’m not your enemy, Kiara.”

His words have that honest ring to them, but I still don’t trust this man.

How can I?

Rory doesn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he disappears around a corner in the lobby I didn’t notice earlier.

Wow. Was that only this morning?

“Are you coming, or do I need to toss you over my shoulder and carry you?”

I hustle after him.

“Are we the only ones here?” Even though we aren’t touching, his body heat warms my skin. The man’s a walking bonfire. With him in your bed, you’d never need an electric blanket.

My lower belly clenches at that visual of him, naked and radiating all that heat.

Stop it.

I banish the image from my head and focus on our surroundings. The narrow corridor curves around to the right, and a short downward staircase appears.

We’re already underground. How deep does this place go? Rory descends first, but before I do, I glare at the back of his head. “Answer my question.”

Rory fixes me with a hard look from the bottom of the stairs. “We’re the only ones here.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“Off-duty,” he grumbles. “Satisfied?”

Dammit. Even his grumble is sexy.

Our gazes lock, and the electricity crackling between us staggers me for a moment.

He breaks the eye contact first. I gulp down air and silently plead with my rampaging hormones to take a time-out. The cold, absolute silence that surrounds us leads me to believe that Rory’s telling the truth about us being alone.

That doesn’t mean I can trust him completely. Oddly, though, I do trust him not to hurt me physically to get his way. The fury on his face when I cringed away from him earlier convinced me of that.

Staring into his melty hazel eyes feels dangerous, so I tromp down the rest of the stairs and walk ahead. “Where to now?”

“My office.” Rory’s reply comes from a distance. Behind me, he’s standing in front of a wall with the faintest outline of a door cut into it. When he presses his palm to the wall, a digital keypad appears. Once he punches in a secret passcode, a hidden doorway opens.

“It’s through here.” This time, Rory waits for me to walk back to him like an idiot before crossing the threshold into the darkness.

Anxiety pings through me. Is this really an elaborate ruse to drag me down to the dungeon and torture me for trying to escape?

But once Rory’s inside and the lights come on, I immediately relax.

Rory’s office is…unexpectedly nice.

Light hardwood floors. A painting on one wall. A pristine desk and computer, as though he hasn’t been here in years.

Maybe he’s been too busy drugging and abducting women for work.

Pressed against one wall is a queen-sized sofa bed.

I must stare at it with intensity because Rory shrugs in my periphery.

“Used to pull a lot of all-nighters in here. Still do, occasionally.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Yeah. Lots of college papers to write, I’m sure.”

A smile comes to his face. Amused, but somber. “For work.”

Wanting to be as far from that bed as possible, I walk around him and lean against his desk. “And how much of your work requires a mattress?”

A soft chuckle rumbles from Rory’s lips. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that.”

“Really? Because what I’m thinking is that I mentioned sex back there, and now you’ve got ideas.” The words are out before I vet them. Heat follows, burning up my whole face.

I do not want to look into Rory’s eyes, but I’m afraid my embarrassment will be obvious if I don’t. Especially since that bed dominates the space.

Steeling myself, I hold my breath and meet his dark, heated gaze.

Rory stares back in a dangerous, predatory way that curls my toes in my sneakers and shrieks alarm bells in my head at full volume.

Damn, my heart’s pounding like a snare drum.

And despite that lethal gleam in his eyes, I want more of that rabid-butterflies-in-my-stomach sensation. Anxiety and excitement ping-pong through me at warp speed.

I should know better. For all intents and purposes, I’m a hostage, and Rory’s my kidnapper. I watched him kill two men. He could murder me in a matter of seconds.

But even if my brain knows not to get sucked in, my body is an entirely different story.

A vein in Rory’s forearm pulses. “And what if you’re right?”

“W-what?” I stammer, open-mouthed and suddenly far too warm.

“If…” His jaw tenses. “What if…I am thinking about what you said back there?”

My pulse races like a world-class sprinter.

He’s actually admitting to it? That he’s thinking about sex with…me?

The idea threatens to implode my mind.

I swallow hard, but the uncomfortable knot in my throat doesn’t go down.

“The life you wish you were living.” His eyes somehow drill into mine, upping the intensity crackling between us. “Was that all true?”

“Huh?”

“Do you really want to do those things on your bucket list?”

Rory moves, invading my personal space again. The words he’s speaking are charged in ways that terrify me.

Without my permission, my body reacts as if I’m full of metal and he’s magnetized , pulling me closer. “I used to.”

His intensity ramps up. “The way you spoke earlier…you made it sound like you’ve never fucked anyone. Is that true?”

Not only have I never had sex, but no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. The bluntness combined with his velvety voice electrifies my body.

I’m also mortified, so I spin to face the desk. I don’t know if I can even meet his eyes, let alone answer the question.

No doubt Rory’s spent half his life beating women off with a stick. The yawning chasm between our sexual experiences fills me with a creeping sense of inadequacy.

Vocalizing any of this out loud would grind the remaining shreds of my dignity down to nothing, though.

Telling him anything other than the truth would require lying, and I am exceptionally bad at that.

Worst of all, admitting my inexperience will probably bring us back to last night, when he and I…mauled each other.

Nope . Can’t do this.

I don’t have it in me. End of story.

Rory’s body closes in around me, his hands coming to rest on either side of mine on the desk.

His heat and proximity scatter my mind like confetti.

I’m getting that stalked-prey sensation again.

A tidal wave of lust, prompted by the firm planes of his chest nestled snugly against my back, crashes through me.

Rory inhales a sharp breath, like a starving man savoring the scent of food for the first time in weeks. “Even after that chase you led me on, you smell delicious.”

I squirm, shocked by the way my nipples pebble from those words alone.

Is this it? Is this the moment where he bends me over the desk like in one of my mom’s office romances and screws me into the next year?

Do I want this to be it? Yes. No. Maybe. Yes.

I brace for his next move, blinking when a first aid kit appears next to my hand. Rory sidesteps out from behind me to stand at my side.

That’s not at all what I expected. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved.

Still, my gaze remains glued to the desk’s mahogany surface.

He opens the box and removes cleaning wipes and bandages.

“Give me your hand.” He’s back to cold and gruff.

“I’m fine. Just take me back to my room.”

“Give me your hand.” Rory softens his voice to the same velvety tone he used before his tongue ended up in my mouth. “Please .”

My heart trips and falls. I’m only human, and I guess please is past the limit of what I can tolerate before I give him exactly what he wants.

That’s wonderful to know.

When his big, warm palm wraps around mine, I feel the touch in every part of my body.

Gently holding my hand, he treats my cut and scraped fingers and slathers rubbing alcohol on my skin, which stings like the devil. I dig my teeth into my cheek to keep from reacting. And then he bandages every place to the best of his ability.

The act is so tender that I pinch my eyes closed for a moment to absorb it.