Black Widow
Fuck that noise. I’m not stupid enough to tug on that particular tiger’s tail. Even if my reluctance is partly my loyalty to Axel. I could toss out his name, but I don’t think he’d welcome the sort of attention Killian would send his way if I do. Killian once hacked and froze a guy’s bank account for a week because he grabbed my ass in a nightclub.
Not that Axel can’t handle himself. It’s just that he’s fully engulfed in a turbulent situation of his own that will earn me a black mark if I give him another to deal with. And as unlikely as I would’ve considered such a friendship a couple of months ago, in a few short weeks I’ve grown to like Axel’s girlfriend, Cleo. She won’t thank me either if I unleash Killian on them.
“If your silence is designed to drive me crazy, you’re succeeding. Care to put me out of my misery?” The question may sound cajoling, but his voice rumbles with warning.
“I like my job. Does that count?”
“Not when your life could be in danger because of it, no. But tell me about it. I still want to know what you’ve been up to.”
“I work at a…club. An adults-only club.”
The dangerous gleam in his eyes intensifies. “Interesting,” he responds. “And your role there is…?” he asks indolently. Only the tic in his jaw and the tension whipping through his body tell a different story. As does the light of warning flaring in his eyes.
I purse my lips and answer only because it’ll save me from further interrogation later when Betty spits out the info she uncovers. “I’m the manager.”
“And what does a manager at an adults-only club do? Exactly?”
“Come on—”
“Remember the one we attended in Moscow? And Shanghai?”
I remember. Sex on tap for anyone who wanted it. Given by every employee in the club. For a discreet but handsome fee, of course. I shudder that his mind has gone there. “Killian…
“There were rules, but if I recall, they were fairly negotiable with the right incentive.”
Anger spikes my blood. “Fuck you. This isn’t that sort of club. I’m not that sort of manager.”
He exhales, and a sizable amount of his tension eases. “Glad to hear it. That doesn’t give me the whole story though.”
“And you’re not going to get it.” I head for the door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“To get my things. And maybe start screaming my head off if you don’t let me out of here.”
He chuckles. “I’d love to see this new, hysterical part of you.”
I reach the living room and search for my stuff. Recalling that I didn’t see my backpack here or in any of the rooms he showed me, I whirl to face him. “Where are my things, Killian?”
His breath catches. “Fuck, you have no idea how good it is to hear you say my name again. You know what would be even better?”
“Whatever it is, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it—”
“Hearing you gasp it again when I slide my cock inside that tight, little cunt. Remember how much I loved the way the decibels build the closer you get to coming right up until you scream?”
The burn is immediate. Like a flash fire from a gasoline tank, it detonates in my pelvis and spreads wide and merciless, destroying every coherent thought in its path. I fight it with everything I can muster. “Jesus, you’re as maddening as ever.”
He prowls closer. I retreat until something stops me. A quick glance shows it’s the sofa. We’ve circled back to the beginning.
“And you’re so sexy and so fucking gorgeous I’m wondering how I’m still on my feet when just looking at you rips my insides out.”
“You can’t say things like that!” I’m this close to turning into the hysterical woman he mocked a minute ago.
“Why the fuck not?”
It’s that grain of bewilderment in his tone that kills me. Killian was never shy about expressing his interest, sexually or verbally. He’s the master of dirty talk in and out of bed, and unfortunately for me, I found out that I grew stupid every time he unleashed that particular talent.
His nonsexual emotions are a different story. Despite our volcanic and oftentimes obsessive interactions, he never once told me he loved me. And I’ve never asked if he did. I was never brave enough to find out. Perhaps I knew that, without it, everything we had was just a flashy neon sign in a deserted playground that would lose its sparkle eventually, making it easier to walk away from.
Or perhaps it could’ve been because the last man who told me he loved me turned out to be a liar, a cheat, and a whole load of other things I don’t want to think about right now.
Killian stops before me and reaches out to slide his fingers through my hair. “The only way you’re leaving here is if I’m coming with you. And for that to happen, I need to be one hundred and ten percent sure that it’s safe. For that to happen, we need to hang tight for Betty to do her thing. A few times over.”
“That’s absurd. And I’m not taking you to work with me.”
His touch on my hair is gentle. Soothing. “Okay. Then we’re staying put. Now we can keep fighting or we can go to bed. I haven’t even started to take the edge off this insane need for you. I’m not sure if I ever will. Kissing you only made me crave you more. But if that’s the only offer on the table, I’m good to go again.”
He’s wearing me down. It’s another skill of his that’s achieved brilliant results in the past. I watched him use it in the field, watched him wield that and his killer Irish charm on women. He’s never used it this hard on me before, probably because I was such an easy conquest he didn’t need to. But now I’m poised on that familiar knife-edge of calling fuck it and throwing myself at him.
All-night sex with Killian. The first time it happened, I stupidly believed it was a one-off thing. He quickly proved me wrong. The unrelenting ache between my thighs urges me to let him prove me wrong again. And again.
My head feels like it weighs a ton when I force myself to respond in the negative. “I can’t just not turn up to work. He’s not going to buy that something’s not wrong.”
He goes still, and the fingers in my hair turn that little bit punitive. “He?” he breathes warningly.
“Axel. My boss.”
“Why won’t he believe you?”
Because he saw beneath my surface within moments that first time years ago, when the need for numbness drove me to Viper Red, the edgy, alternative nightclub in Harlem also owned by Axel. “Because I have a meeting with him at midday. A meeting I arranged. I can’t just not turn up.”
“Then call in sick.”
“I’m not sick. Besides, he won’t believe me.”
“Why not? Will he come looking for you? Do you warrant special treatment or is he that caring a boss?”
“Maybe I do. Maybe not.”
He just stares at me, and I know his focus has shifted from me to work on a different threat. Axel.
I groan and curse under my breath. “Fine. Give me my phone. I’ll call and put it off.”
The speculation doesn’t wane even a fraction, although his hand drops from my hair to capture my hand. He tugs me after him back to the study and hands me a black phone that looks like it belongs in sci-fi movie. “It’s encrypted. Just in case.”
I take the phone and dial.
“Put it on speaker,” Killian commands, a second before the call is picked up.
“Rutherford.” The name is snapped in typical Axel Rutherford fashion. At this time of the morning, the likelihood that I’ve disturbed his horizontal playtime with Cleo is very high. He doesn’t sound pleased.
“It’s me, B.” Killian lifts an eyebrow at the name. I ignore it. “I need to cancel our meeting this morning,” I say briskly before he can say anything the man in front of me might misinterpret.
A knot of silence. “Why?”
“Something’s come up. I might need tonight off too.”
Further silence. “I see. Everything all right?” There’s tension in his voice now, not dissimilar to Killian’s when he’s suspicious. I glance furtively at Killian, and his eyes are narrowed in gleaming speculation.
Shit. That’s all I need—two alpha males butting heads over me. My grip tightens on the phone. “I’m fine. I’ll reschedule and let you know.”
“You do that.”
“Bye.” I hang up quickly.
Killian takes the phone from me and stares down at it for a moment before he looks at me. “You want to discuss him now or later?”
“I want to discuss him never. You got what you wanted, me as your prisoner for the next twelve hours. After that I’m outta here. But if you think I’m going to use that time to play catch-up, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m going to bed.”
He trails me to the guest bedroom and firmly wedges a foot in the door when I try to shut it in his face. “Sorry, sweetheart, the door stays open.”
My exasperation has reached epic proportions but it’s been a long night, so I simply drop my hand from the frame and stalk away to the huge bed dominating the room.
“Any chance of a good-night kiss?” he drawls.
“Does my knee between your legs count?” I snap back.
He grimaces but stays leaning in the doorway, and shit, even the way he angles that hot body is so gorgeous that I want to curse long and hard.
He waves a hand toward the adjoining bath and dressing room. “Fresh toothbrush and other stuff through there. If you need anything else, come find me.”
I remain silent by the bed, exhausted but feeling as if I could still go ten rounds. The fact that I want nine of those ten rounds to involve his cock inside me is not an admission I welcome very easily, even to myself.
He doesn’t say anything either, and we stare at each other for a full minute, the past chewing up the ground between us like a force five tornado.
His fingers find his back pockets, and he rocks on his feet like he’s straining to stay away. “It’s so fucking good to see you again, baby.” His voice is rough, raw, and insanely sexy.
He probably doesn’t expect me to respond. And I don’t. Most likely because I don’t know how much more of his presence I can take without screaming for a repeat of everything he did to me earlier. And more. After another minute, he gives me that sad smile again and walks away.
A popped balloon has nothing on the way I wilt onto the bed. I’m alone for the first time since Killian exploded back into my life. My heart hasn’t stopped hammering, and a huge part of me already strains with the need to see him again.
I’m reeling from fresh shock ten minutes later when I emerge from the dressing room. The other stuff turned out to be a closet full of clothes that looked suspiciously like the ones I left behind in his various residences during our time together. Everything down to the saucy underwear that was our thing for a short while.
My hands are shaking when I draw back the covers, get into bed, and pull them up to my chin.
Jesus. I’m nowhere near ready for any of this. I’m especially not ready to tell Killian that someone from our past already found me three weeks ago.