I’d kissed Kai.
Boring, buttoned-up Kai. Always overhearing me say the most inappropriate things Kai. Member of the Valhalla Club Kai. And I’d liked it.
The world had truly turned upside down.
I wiped the counter, my movements slow and distracted as memories from Saturday night unwound through me like an invisible spool of silk. Kai and I had left the club after grabbing our coats and canvases and taken separate cabs home without saying a word. Four days had passed since then, but my mind couldn’t stop replaying our kiss.
It wasn’t just the physical act itself. It was the way I’d felt, like being in Kai’s arms was the safest place I could be. I’d kissed plenty of guys before, but ours was the only one that clicked.
Either that, or I’d been really, really drunk.
I sighed and glanced around the empty room. It was the day before Thanksgiving, which meant the club was a dead zone. Usually, I loved this shift because I got paid for little to no work, but the silence was driving me crazy.
Thirty more minutes. Then I could take my laptop to my favorite café and write. I hadn’t forgotten about the February deadline, but I’d been so distracted I hadn’t had time to dwell on it.
I caught a flash of gray out of the corner of my eye. I looked up, and the air died in my lungs.
Kai. He walked in like he owned the place, which, as a managing committee member, he kind of did.
No jacket, no tie, only a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and suspenders running crisp lines down to a pair of perfectly tailored charcoal pants. He was back to his usual polished self, except for the tiny frown marring his forehead.
I forced oxygen past the knot in my chest.
We hadn’t talked or seen each other since our kiss, and I’d underestimated the impact his presence would have on me. If I hadn’t stopped moving altogether when he entered, I would’ve accidentally knocked one of the three-hundred-dollar Baccarat glasses to the ground.
Our eyes connected. A different, heavier silence fell over us, the kind woven from forbidden memories and unspoken words.
Kai reached the bar and took the seat across from me; I poured a glass of scotch and pushed it toward him without a word.
He brought it to his lips, his throat working with a sexy swallow.
I didn’t have other customers to distract me, so I just watched him, lazy tendrils of desire curling in my stomach even as the silence expanded between us.
He set the glass down, and we observed each other warily like we were gauging the other’s expression for the right thing to say.
“Why aren’t you in London?” I finally asked after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. “For Thanksgiving.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, melting some of the tension. “The British don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
Right.
“Besides…” The frown reappeared for a split second between his brows. “I have a work crisis to deal with.”
“Over a holiday weekend?”
“Crises are unaccommodating that way. They have little respect for human schedules.” Amusement gilded his reply.
“So you’re just going to work the entire weekend? That’s so depressing.” A pang hit my chest when I pictured Kai pulling all-nighters at his computer while everyone else celebrated with their families.
I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He earned more in a day than most people earned in a year, but he was still human. Everyone deserved time off.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I enjoy my job.” He rubbed a thumb over the rim of his glass. “And you? How are you spending the holidays?”
“Writing, shopping, and preparing for Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza in February. I know, it’s a mouthful,” I said when his mouth quirked again. “But we’re too lazy to come up with a better name.” I hesitated, then added, “So we’ll both be in the city this weekend.”
I wasn’t sure why it mattered. It wasn’t like we were going to invite each other over to our houses for four days of food, sex, and shopping. Right?
Kai gave a slow shake of his head. “I have a red-eye flight to San Francisco tonight,” he said. “Part of the work crisis management.”
“Oh.” Disappointment sank like a weight in my stomach.
“Have you visited the library again?” He abruptly switched topics. “For your writing?”
“Not yet.” It reminded me too much of him. Even if it weren’t so quiet, I doubted I could write in there. “Maybe one day.”
“I see.” This time, he was the one who looked disappointed.
Silence lapsed again, punctuated by the hum of the heater. God, this was torture. Why couldn’t I simply say what I wanted to?
Because it’s a bad idea. Because it’s against the rules. Because— I get it. Shut up.
Kai hesitated. “About Saturday—”
“It was a mistake.” I interrupted him before he could state the obvious. “I know. You don’t have to say it. We shouldn’t have done…what we did.”
His frown deepened. “That’s not what I was going to say.” I faltered. “It’s not?”
The clock ticked in the ensuing quiet. My heartbeat ticked right alongside it, rising and falling with the tide of emotion threatening to sweep me under.
“No.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Unless you truly think it was a mistake.”
“I…” On one hand, it was a mistake. Kai and I came from different worlds. His role as Young heir probably involved marriage to a proper society heiress like Clarissa. Getting even more involved with him was a sure path toward heartbreak. I’d been there, gotten the T-shirt, and I never wanted to go back.
On the other hand…
I swallowed. I didn’t know what Kai and I currently had, but the thought of severing it cleaved through me like a scythe.
“You don’t have to answer now.” Kai stood and nodded at his empty glass, his expression unreadable. “Put it on my tab. I’ll be upstairs.”
By the time my brain processed his words, he was already gone.
I’ll be upstairs.
His parting statement played on a loop while I cleaned and closed out the bar. He had no reason to tell me that unless…
You don’t have to answer now…I’ll be upstairs.
A choice. I could go home, pretend the kiss never happened, and move on with my life.
Or I could go upstairs.
New Isabella should do the smart thing and choose option one, but it was obvious by now that no version of me was good at doing what she should.
I locked the bar door behind me and made my way to the second floor. A part of me knew I was risking my job by doing this. Unfortunately, that part was so faint I could barely hear it over the drum of my heart.
I could rationalize away my attraction to Kai all I wanted, but the truth was he made me feel more alive than anything else had for years.
I stopped in front of the piano room and rested my hand on the doorknob.
The drumming in my chest intensified. No going back now.
I opened the door, stepped inside…and there he was, lounging against the side of the piano in a deceptively casual pose.
Dark hair, dark eyes, devastation inked onto every inch of him.
Even if he hadn’t dropped the upstairs hint, instinct would’ve guided me to him. The melding of gazes in a crowded ballroom, a chance meeting in a quiet hallway…no matter where we were, an invisible force drew us together like magnets to steel.
Our eyes locked.
Emotion flickered over Kai’s face. It was there, then gone, like a ship passing in the night, but it was enough.
It pulled me toward him at the same time as he straightened, his body lined with tension.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
I halted inches away from him, my mind and pulse gone haywire. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to; my presence was telling enough.
His throat flexed.
A breath passed, and then—we collided. Hands. Lips. Teeth.
His mouth crushed against mine, my fingers tangled in his hair, and urgency ignited between us until my limbs were heavy and weak with desire.
This time, there was no crowd, no music, only the desperate, frantic need to get as close to him as possible.
My back slammed against the side of the piano. I gasped, more at the thick, insistent press of Kai’s arousal against my thigh than the impact. Pain didn’t register. My blood was liquid fire, burning away any sensations except pleasure, want, need.
Kai’s body molded against mine. He bracketed me with his arms, and a moan rose in my throat when he drew my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.
The stiff, reserved CEO was gone. In his place was someone who kissed like a man possessed, filled with filthy promises and wicked intent.
My hands roamed over warm skin and sculpted muscles, feverish with want. We were pressed so tightly together I could feel the wild beats of his heart, but it wasn’t enough.
Kai groaned when I arched into him, craving more.
“I was right. You are going to be the death of me,” he muttered.
He pulled back. A protest climbed my throat, but it quickly died when he took off his glasses and tossed them to the side before kissing me again, even deeper this time, his mouth exploring mine so expertly all rational thought dissolved. Strong, warm hands swept up the backs of my thighs and lifted me onto the piano. One stayed on my thigh, sliding up and around until it brushed the wetness soaking my underwear; the other stole beneath my top and bra to palm my breast.
“Please.” My half gasp, half whimper would’ve been embarrassing had I been in my right mind.
I couldn’t draw enough oxygen into my lungs. My head grew light, every ounce of consciousness arrowing to the heat building in my center.
“And here I thought I’d never hear you beg.” Kai’s silken murmur traveled the length of my spine and dropped between my legs. It pulsed with an empty ache as he pushed my panties to the side and rubbed a thumb over my sensitized clit.
My vision hazed.
I didn’t see when he pushed my top up and closed his mouth around my nipple, or when he pushed a finger deep enough inside me to make me cry out. Time lost all meaning as he consumed me, licking and sucking and playing me with ruthless precision until I writhed with mindless pleasure.
I was practically lying on top of the piano at this point, and a sharp cry tore from my throat when he pressed the most sensitive spot inside me. I thrashed and bucked, my hand accidentally hitting the exposed ivory keys.
Discordant notes spilled into the air, masking the existing, filthy symphony of moans, whimpers, and the wet sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of me.
My arousal dripped down my thighs and onto the Steinway’s lacquered top. I was nothing but sensation, lost in a rhythm that was both too much and not enough.
“That’s it, love.” Gravel transformed Kai’s soft words into a rough command. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
That was all it took.
My orgasm scorched through me like gasoline set ablaze. Higher, hotter, crashing over me in wave after wave until I was so spent I could do little more than lie there, limp and spent while Kai cleaned me up.
Languid contentment spread through me as he wiped my thighs with something soft—a handkerchief, maybe—and gently tugged my clothes back into place.
“Well, that’s one way to celebrate Thanksgiving,” I said drowsily. “Much better than the Macy’s parade.”
His soft laugh blanketed my skin. “Technically, it’s Thanksgiving Eve.”
Kai helped me off the piano and onto my feet, though my knees were so weak I wobbled a bit before I regained my balance.
Sometime between giving me one of the best orgasms of my life and now, he’d put his glasses back on. His hair was mussed from my hands, and flags of color stained the crests of his cheeks, but he was still far more put together than I was.
“If you have the clarity of mind to know what day it is, something’s wrong.” I dropped my eyes to where his arousal tented his pants. My throat dried, and a fresh wave of heat coasted through my stomach. “When is your flight again?”
Do we have time for a second round? The real meaning behind my question wasn’t lost on either of us.
Heat darkened his eyes, followed by a rueful smile. “I have a conference call in half an hour. Last one before the holiday. Apparently, it’s the only time that works for everyone.”
He was turning down sex for a business call?
I tried not to look too insulted.
“We’ll talk next week when we have more time,” Kai said. “This was… that is, I didn’t expect…” He faltered, looking so adorably flustered that I couldn’t hold on to my annoyance.
He was right. The day before Thanksgiving wasn’t the best time for a deep dive on whatever we had. He’d fingered me in the piano room of the club where I worked, for Christ’s sake—the same club that would throw me out on my ass and blackball me if people found out what happened.
I needed time to think about what to do next when I wasn’t riding a post- orgasmic high.
The inklings of dread returned. How did I always find myself in these situations?
By making bad decisions, a voice sang in my head. By never having a plan and ending up in places you don’t want to be.
I didn’t bother refuting it. I couldn’t if I tried.
“Makes sense.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling unsure. Our tension had exploded spectacularly after weeks, maybe even months, of buildup, and now we had to deal with the aftermath. The problem was, I always sucked at cleanup. I was forever getting into messes with no vision of how to get myself out.
Kai and I lapsed into silence as we finished straightening the room and ourselves out. He seemed as lost for words as I was, though he could just be mentally prepping for his call, I thought sourly.
I exited the room first, but I didn’t make it two steps before I came to an abrupt halt. My stomach dropped several inches.
There was someone in the hall.
Tall, broad, and utterly terrifying, the behemoth of a man stared down at me, his face expressionless. His eyes were an icy, unsettling blue, so pale they were almost colorless. His dark hair was cropped short, and a vicious scar slashed diagonally across his face from eyebrow to chin, bisecting it into two otherwise flawless halves. If it weren’t for the scar and those shiver-inducing eyes, he could’ve made a killing as a model with those cheekbones.
My gaze dipped, and a jolt ran through me at the sight of thick red burns twisting around his neck like a rope. Unlike the flat coldness of his stare, the burns seemed to pulse with rage under my scrutiny, as if they were seconds away from leaping off his skin and strangling me.
An answering pressure wrapped around my throat. The amount of pain he must’ve endured to get those scars…
His eyes sharpened into icicles. I expected him to call me out on my admittedly rude staring, but he simply gave Kai a curt nod before stepping around me and disappearing around the corner.
The encounter had lasted less than twenty seconds, yet the icy touch of his glare shivered on my skin.
“Who was that?” Whoever it was, he was definitely a club member—and he’d seen me and Kai exit the piano room together.
My heart thudded with panic.
“Vuk Markovic, better known as the Serb. He doesn’t like people using his given name.” Kai didn’t elaborate, but his tone told me there was more to the story than he was letting on. “Don’t worry about him. He won’t say anything. He keeps to himself.”
I chose to believe him, if only for the sake of my sanity.
I glanced over my shoulder as we walked toward the stairs. The hall was empty, yet I couldn’t shake the chill crawling over the back of my neck— the type you got when someone was watching you.
