“Mm-hmm,” she moaned, begging, “Come on, let’s do it.”
“Turn over.”
A cool sweat broke out all over my body, and I stared at Kai, letting my eyes fall down his body. Even under his clothes, I could tell how beautiful he was. I closed my eyes for a split second, trying to push away the need building between my legs. I wanted to be touched. I wanted these clothes off. I wanted his full attention on a bed somewhere. I didn’t care where. He felt so good, and I remembered. Everything was still so clear.
The headboard in the room started hitting the wall and grunts and small cries drifted into the hallway.
I trailed my eyes down Kai’s narrow waist and long legs, wishing for a moment that it was me in that room.
Entertaining for a moment that I would ever let it happen.
“Keep looking at me like that,” Kai spoke up, “and we’re going to have problems.”
I turned my eyes away. I needed to get out of here.
“Can I leave now?” I shot out.
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he moved, dropping his arms and walking straight for me.
“You know what I’ve thought about so many times over the years? More times than I care to admit?” he asked, planting a hand on the wall behind my head. “You and me in that tower, my hands on you, just feeling you. Remember that?”
I said nothing, and he leaned in. “I liked having control of you,” he continued, his words coming out softly. Thoughtful. “It was different than it was with other girls. Control is an illusion. It usually only lasts a few minutes.” He raised his eyes, meeting mine. “But with you, I felt like I’d have control of you for good. It felt like I could hold everything you are in the palm of my hand. You had to do and say so little to make me want you.”
I inched back, hitting the wall. What did he want from me? Did he get off on slumming or something? Not that I thought I was disgusting or ugly, but Jesus. I purposely dressed in clothes too big in order to deter attention, and Kai acted like he didn’t even see the clothes, the tangled hair, and the dirty fingernails.
He acted like he did six years ago. Like I was just a girl.
But not average, either. I was special. Wanted. Desired.
He leaned into my ear, sending a flutter through my stomach as he whispered, “Take off your jacket and open your shirt for me.”
The urge to push him away hit me, but I remained still, because I really wanted to do what he asked me. I wanted his hands again.
I just shook my head instead.
He reached up, pulling the hat off my head, and my hair came free, spilling out around me. He took a tendril of my hair, curling it around his fingers. The small sensation made my eyelids flutter.
But then he shot up, grabbing a fistful of my hair at the back of my head, and I gasped, wincing at the pain.
“Fair’s fair,” he growled low, forcing me to hold his eyes. “You watched me. You followed me. Counted how many times a day I showered. Did you watch that, too? Huh?”
I clenched my teeth, the heat of his breath hitting my lips.
“Did you watch me fuck?” His eyes fell to my mouth. “Open your shirt for me, little one. Let’s see if I like what I’m getting for my trouble.”
His lips hovered over mine, and the longing in my body raged.
“No,” I whispered and planted my hands on his chest. “You take off your shirt.”
He paused, staring at me curiously as he held my head an inch from his. My skin was burning, and my clothes chafed. It was almost painful. I wanted them off. I wanted to feel him against my body.
Reaching up, I touched his face, running my hand across his jaw and down behind his neck. Warm and smooth, but I wanted more.
He watched me warily, his eyes briefly dropping to my mouth again as his own lips parted. But he didn’t stop me. His hold relaxed.
I dragged my fingers down to his shirt and held his eyes as I started undoing the buttons, but my fingers were shaking so badly I grabbed the shirt in both hands and ripped it open, the buttons flying in both directions.
He let out a heavy breath, sounding almost like a growl as he tightened his hold and lowered his forehead to mine.