Chapter Thirteen

Antoine

Adrenaline, rage and fear pump through me. The few seconds it takes to reach her room stretches out into an eternity. A man can do a lot of damage to a helpless, vulnerable woman in that time. The fucker can assault her. Grope her. Terrorize her. And so much more.

If some fucker has hurt her, he’s not walking out of here alive. I should’ve killed the asshole in her apartment, too. Word needs to spread that if you hurt Kristen King, you’ll pay with your life.

The gun is comforting in my hands—an old, trusted friend. I leap into the bedroom, then kick the door to the bathroom in, gun raised, ready to blow the fucker’s head off.

But…there’s nothing. I don’t spot anyone except Kristen wrapped in an oversized towel. There’s no place for an intruder to hide. Fury and adrenaline roar in my head, and my skin prickles like there’s electricity running over me. Where’s the motherfucker who scared her?

“Oh my God, Antoine!” Kristen gasps.

“Where is he?” The windows are closed, the locks engaged. The bathroom’s slightly foggy from the shower, and the scent of her soap and shampoo lingers.

She points at the bottom of the heavy glass stall door. “Down there.”

“What?” I don’t see anything. Adrenaline is making it hard to focus. My heartbeat thunders in my head: boom boom BOOM!

“There!” She bends her knees a little and points at a spot on a tile.

I squint, then finally see a small spider, moving its legs slowly.

Holy shit. All that screaming over a spider?

I exhale roughly, take a final look around and holster the gun, clicking the safety back on. It could’ve been worse, I guess. Like a real asshole showing up.

I start to bend down, and Kristen yells, “Don’t hurt it!”

“What?”

“Just…uh… Don’t hurt it. He probably didn’t mean to scare me.”

Oooo-kay. I pick the spider off the floor and put it on the short ledge out the window, then make sure to lock it again.

Nothing happened. Kristen’s safe. It was just a bug.

But that does little to calm my restlessness. The recent cocktail of emotions and violence bubbles up inside me like lava. My hands are shaking slightly.

“Antoine?” comes Kristen’s small voice.

I look at her. Her wet hair clings to her freshly scrubbed face. She seems impossibly young and vulnerable. The shower has flushed her cheeks and lips; a drop of water traces the lovely curve of her cheek, then falls, landing a few inches above her cleavage and rolling down below.

She couldn’t look sweeter or more fuckable. I have to get out of here before I do something really stupid.

“You aren’t hurt, right?” I rasp, wanting to make sure she didn’t somehow fall or cut herself in her spider-induced panic.

She shakes her head.

“Okay, then…” I start to walk away, although my feet are dragging as though they have a mind of their own. She’s so close. I could lean to one side, just a little, and we’d be in full body contact…

Don’t even think about it. I grit my teeth. She reaches for a bottle of lotion she must’ve dropped earlier, then suddenly slips, pitching to the side.

“Ack!” she cries, her hands clutching at me for balance. But she pulls too hard, and my feet slip on a wet section of the floor.

We fall. I roll with her, shielding her so she doesn’t hit the hard tiles. Air whooshes out of my lungs as her body slams against mine, my back to the floor.

I need to move. Except I can’t. Not because the fall hurt that much, but the feel of her ass against my dick is killing me, cell by cell. And then the sensation as she turns slowly until her front fits against mine is indelible, like every valley and dip of her body will be stamped on me forever. One of my hands is on the small of her back, while the other is cupping her bare ass—and the smooth, shower-damp skin. My brain finally registers that her towel is no longer around her. The knot must’ve come undone in the fall.

The restlessness I’ve been feeling all evening expands until I feel like my skin’s about to split. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. Oh…shit. My dick. It’s so hard I could bludgeon someone with it. She’s definitely feeling it against her bare belly.

Lust is like a living, starving monster inside me. Kristen’s lips are only a hairsbreadth away. And they’re so soft, so lush, so pink.

I don’t know who makes the first move, but the feel of her mouth on mine fries all sense of propriety and control. All I care is that her tongue is licking across my mouth, from one corner to the other end, like she can’t bear to leave even the smallest area untasted. Then she’s nibbling it, greedy for every texture, every way she can devour my mouth. And I’m flicking my tongue against her soft, sweet lips and tasting a headiness that hits me harder than a fifteen-year-old whiskey. My head spins as I pull her closer, plunging my tongue between her pliant lips.

She moans softly, the sound full of need and greed. Her nails dig into my shoulders, the sharp pain fueling my lust, sending hot sparks down my back. I shape the tight roundness of her ass, loving the small, mewling noise she makes low in her throat. She’s so freaking perfect, so beautifully formed, delicious and passionate in her desire. Her legs fall apart, cradling my cock between her thighs. I can feel the dampness through my pants.

Some primitive part of me howls. Yes, yes, yes!

But I don’t relinquish her mouth. I want to drink her in as long as I can. I love kissing her, the way we can stroke each other’s lust until we’re both going mad.

She rubs against me, rocking gently, and I feel like my heart is about to explode with desire. I run a hand down her spine, feeling every little bump. She shivers, then bites her lower lip.

“Kristen…”

She puts a finger over my mouth, raising her torso. “I want you.”

The sight of her bare, pendulous tits draws my gaze, and…I stare. They’re stunning, round, plump and tipped with hard, pointed pink nipples that beg to be kissed and loved.

Then I spot a red impression on her side, underneath her right breast. I scowl. How did she…?

I know. It’s from my gun.

My lust vanishes. I start to sit up.

“What?” she says, one hand on my arm.

“I’m here to protect you, not take advantage of you.”

She tries for a laugh. “It’s called ‘mutual fun’ if we both want it.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking, Kristen,” I say, doing my best to ignore her nudity. Or the hurt that’s starting to bleed through her eyes.

“I’m not an idiot, Antoine. I’m twenty-six years old.”

“And I’m thirty-one. Too old to act on impulse.”

“What’s wrong with impulse?”

“Kristen, you’re like the baby sister I never ha—”

“Oh, God, shut up! You’d never look at a baby sister the way you’re looking at me now. You would’ve never kissed a baby sister the way you just kissed me. At least be honest with yourself before giving me your usual bullshit excuse. I’m not stupid.”

“Kristen…” I sigh. I don’t know what to say. Just tell her how shit can go real bad when you break the code? There’s a reason why rules like “don’t bang your best friend’s baby sister” exist, and it isn’t to drive me insane. I place the towel around her, which has to be the most difficult thing I’ve done in my life. “Get dressed and get some sleep. I’m going to ask Tolyan to watch you and hit the gym. It’s leg day.”

“Fine.”

I get up and leave. She stays on the bathroom floor.