Pretty Hot (The Pretty Trilogy Book 1) (32 page)

‘I didn’t come here to drink.’ His gaze remains on the floor, allowing me to study unhindered the day-worth of stubble on his chin.

‘Okay, then to what do I owe this . . .’

His head comes up fast as he steps into me, hands feeding into my hair. ‘Pleasure?’ he breathes. ‘My god, I want to be the source of all of your pleasure. Your suffering, too.’

What’s that supposed to mean? Brain—wake up! Did he hear me bang my shin?

‘Tell me where you’ve been this evening, Katherine.’

‘Where—’

‘Who you were with?’ His words are soft, barely a whisper but his eyes burn molten amber.

‘I went out with Niamh.’ My voice comes out as a sigh and I feel almost as though his hands are holding me up, preventing me from dissolving into the ground at his feet.
Shouldn’t I be pissed off, rather than turned on at this point, especially after the way we left things?

‘And the blond?’

‘What?’ As I straighten instinctively, my hair pulls against his hands.

‘You left with a blond.’

His hands slip to my shoulders, his eyes roaming my face, looking for a sign, some indication, but of what, I have no clue. ‘You can stop with the innocent expression, because I think we both know who.’

‘Innocent wha—have you been
spying
on me?’

‘Have you something to hide?’

I try to pull out of his arms with limited success. ‘Yes, I left with Matt,
my neighbour
, if that’s who you mean
.
We shared a cab.’

His hands drift to my waist, his voice low and husky. ‘You see how this looks. I almost didn’t come.’ His words breathe across my face and I inhale the scent of whiskey and Kai. ‘But I can’t seem to help it, it’s like I no longer have the choice. I move, no, I gravitate toward you like you’re magnetized.’ Pulling on my hips, his forehead rests above my own.

I’m lost for words. Surely he’s got it the wrong way around. I’m the one drawn to him, dancing around his flame, feeling his heat while fearing
his
burn.

‘Are you drunk?’

‘What I am is unhinged.’ He chuckles darkly, eyes closed. ‘And well
lubricated
.’ He draws out the last word, exhaling a painful sounding sigh.

Confusion gives way to a flash of annoyance—turning up drunk without even letting me know he was back! When I said maybe I’d see him, I didn’t mean whenever he’d like. And how is it even possible that this gorgeous man doesn’t realise I’m interested only in him?

‘Kai, come on, would you even do me in these socks?’ I pull away, wiggling my ugg covered foot, hoping there’s some levity in the motion.

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed the think,’ he growls, grasping my shoulders. ‘Other than you do this deliberately, to make me jealous. To force my hand.’

‘Force your—Kai, we left together because he lives
next door
. I have no interest in the man. We shared a cab. End of story.’ My words, part exasperation, part plea, match my hands floundering in the air. ‘Don’t you know what you do to me?’

‘I know what I want to do to you.’

Gravelly and low, the words explode in the pit of my gut, desire both swift and treacherous.

‘Tell me,’ I whisper, unable to help myself
.

‘I want to put you over my knee.’

His words are enunciated clearly, each sound sharp enough to hurt.
He straightens, fire still flickering in the depths of his gaze and I don’t so much speak as sigh my answer, though he hasn’t exactly whispered sweet nothings to entice me into bed.

Sliding the jacket from his arms, he throws it against the chair.

‘The bedroom. Which way?’

Chapter Thirty

Tense, and perched at the end of my bed, I watch Kai pace the small space. Light from the lamp casts shadows against the wall. As he crosses from light to shade, he looks divine and devilish both. But what happened here, what am I missing? The man of blithe wit and charm, of Shakespearean endearments, where has he gone?

This man, I don’t know him. This fierce, predatory-eyed Kai.

‘Envious eyes and malicious tongues,’ he mutters, almost as though to himself. And I’m pretty sure
that
isn’t Shakespeare.

‘Your tongue isn’t malicious. Talented, maybe . . .’ I allow my words to trail off provocatively, heart hammering in my chest, every cell in my body on high alert.

From across the room, he stills and his eyes seem to regain focus, as though he’s just noticed me here. The smallest suggestion of a smile sneaks through as his eye rake over me. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘I think you’ll find I’m incorrigible.’ Emboldened by his response, the new Kate returns, full of sass and bullshit. She may even flutter her lashes a little.

He towers over me in a few short steps, fingers toying with a lock of my hair. ‘That you are and I just don’t know what to do about it.’

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘I’m not sure you can take what I have in mind.’

‘I think you’ll find I can take whatever you’ve got.’

My words elicit a brief laugh from him. It occurs to me at this point that I could well be writing cheques my arse has no intentions of cashing because, seriously, despite our almost-sex phone call, I’m not doing
that
.

His laughter fades and he lays a heavy hand on my shoulder, his other cradling my cheek. And then the atmosphere changes.

‘You’re like an obsession,’ he whispers. ‘And what I want from you will never be enough.’

‘I can try,’ I answer. ‘Try to be what you need.’

‘No, habibti.’ His gaze is clear and unguarded, adding gravity to his words. ‘I want to be the thoughts filling your head, the need burning in the ends of your fingertips. The longing between your thighs. I want all of it, every last piece of you.’

All else fades into the background. Thoughts, concerns; washed away by his words. If I’m his obsession, then surely he’s mine.

‘Oh, Kai. Don’t you know you are?’

Air seems to leave his body in a sigh as he closes his eyes. ‘No more mixed messages, sweetheart,’ he says, opening them once more. ‘You agree you belong to me?’

Belong is a strong word. I want to belong.

His relief is almost palpable, his expression so sweet that I almost don’t hear his next words. ‘Have you ever heard of the rule of thumb?’ I shake my head not sure where this is going, his eyes taking on a curious light. ‘It’s an old phrase,’ he continues, his thumb lightly stroking the bow of my lips. ‘From a time when men were the protectors of virtue. Of reputations.’ Do I imagine the emphasis he places of that last word?

‘From a time when women belonged to men as a matter of course. A chastisement by use of an implement no thicker than
this
.’ Dragging his thumb now against the flesh of my bottom lip, he pushes it inside.

Something dark and delicious instantly floods my veins. He’s talking about history and punishment; that much I get. What I don’t get is how I can be turned on, how I can be sighing softly as I fellate his thumb.

‘
Khallas
.’ He exhales raggedly, sliding a retreat. ‘I’m done with playing nice. I want you to remember tonight, the night you gave yourself over to me.’

‘Metaphorically speaking?’ I tease, snapping my teeth.

He doesn’t exactly answer. Just smiles down at me looking sinister and sensual all at the same time. How does he manage that? And done playing nice? Does that mean he’s going to play naughty or just not . . . nice?

He can’t mean he wants to punish me, that can’t be what this is about, surely? Not for travelling home with Matt. ‘. . . Because that’s not fair,’ I say quietly.

‘Life rarely is.’ He pouts, his too full bottom lip protruding, pillow soft. ‘If it were easy, it would be a slut. A better aphorism, I think.’

Despite his tone and manner, and despite my confusion, something ignites deep inside. It doesn’t make sense; my head and body are at odds, much like his words and demeanour.

‘Not fair is Matt trying to worm his way into your underwear. Not fair is your refusal to acknowledge this, leaving your behaviour open to question, going home with him. Of course, I could take this to his door, speak to him man to man.’ He turns in a gesture of irritation, one shoulder towards the door. ‘Would that be fair enough for you?’

‘Don’t,’ I answer quickly.

He turns back, one eyebrow raised and daring me for an answer.

‘Don’t go. I promise I’ve made it clear to him. Stay, please. Stay because I am yours.’ I place my hands on his chest and they rise and fall with each of his breaths.

He covers them with his own as he tells me, ‘Then I stay on my terms.’

His fingertips caress my jaw, brush down my neck and come to rest at the zipper between my breasts. As his eyes follow its descent, they darken as my bareness is revealed.

‘
Inti hilwa
 . . . you’re
beautiful.’ Pushing the jacket from my shoulders, I begin to wriggle free from the sleeves, starting reflexively as his hands cup my breasts.

‘Perfect,’ he murmurs, the mattress dipping as he lowers himself, pushing me backwards and onto my elbows. With every brush of his fingers, fire rises through my veins. ‘You make me ache,’ he whispers against my mouth, ‘make me mad.’ Kissing and tasting my jaw and neck, the momentum of his body pushes me flat against the bed. ‘I want to be inside you. Over you, feed you breath from my mouth.’ Kisses pave my torso, his fingers drawing down my sides to the elastic of my shorts. I raise my head as he laughs softly against the fabric. ‘Well hello, ducky,’ he drawls in a comically
interested tone.

I giggle at the change in tenor, his response to the cartoon print. My giggle trails off quite suddenly, my legs twitching as he runs his nose down the front seam, inhaling deeply.

‘God, I could drown in you.’

My laughter evolves into a throaty moan, hunger rippling through my insides.

Standing, he pulls off my uggs, throwing them over his shoulder with a look of disdain. As they thud against the wall, his fingers hook into my waistband, the material pulled down my legs in one swift motion, my hips jerking from the bed. Lying naked, but for a pair of stripy socks, his gaze passes over me, an inkblot of black swimming in heat.

Resting the flat of his palms against my knees, he spreads me, whispering that he knows what I need. That I should bare myself to him. That I’m so ripe, so ready. Reaching out, his fingers part and slide against me as he kneels on the floor between my legs.

‘So sweet, kitten,’ he whispers, eyes fixed. ‘I don’t know whether I want to come here first or in your pretty, pink mouth.’

I exhale a tremulous moan, his words both a shock and a thrill. His tongue then follows the path of his fingers, pushing inside.
Fucking me.

My hips rise from the bed, hands grasping his hair as he begins licking me with long, strong strokes. The sensation is so enormous—his words and his touch—I struggle under him as his hands tighten on my thighs. It’s too much, I can’t take it and yet, I want more.

I whimper under the intensity, the vibrations electrifying as he pushes two fingers deeply inside. Drawing his tongue higher, circling, my body literally bows from the bed as, with relief, he sucks on my swollen clit.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he murmurs thickly, licking and kissing as I writhe helpless beneath him. My hands still twisted in his glorious hair, I’m unable to form the words. I pull at his body, trying to move him above me—I need him inside—but he resists. ‘I want to hear you tell me where you need me most.’ His fingers continue their dance, his words a warm breath over my exposed flesh. ‘Tell me.’

‘Don’t make me beg,’ I whimper.
Come on, actions speak louder than words.
‘You know what I want.’

‘It’s a shame greedy girls only get what they need.’

His conceited tone goes unregistered for a beat as I’m driven so close to my peak.

But then I groan in frustration as he stands, wrapping my legs around him, fruitlessly. Rising in my elbows, I watch him through narrowed eyes as he loosens his tie and begins to fold up his sleeves.

Like he’s serious.

Like he means business.

Like he’s ready to give me what I need.

Suddenly and inexplicably—they are, after all, only forearms—my stomach somersaults. His fingers touch my hips, motioning me to roll onto my front and I do, eyes closed and smiling, hanging onto the feeling mounting inside.

He grasps my ankles, sliding my body down the bed and kneeling behind me on the floor. One knee between mine, he pushes my own further apart as he entwines our fingers together, gently drawing them down from the bed. I smile into the covers, reminded of making sand angels at the beach, thinking I must look the same as he pulls my hands to the base of my spine.

‘In the surrender to silk there is freedom.’
His voice is low and throaty as he leans over, plucking a scarf from several looped over the end of my bed. My heart rate spikes with excitement, definitely not nerves, as he wraps the silken length around my wrists.
‘In your anticipation of pain there is joy
.’

It’s impossible to know what he means. I don’t even consider responding before hearing my teasing words in the air.

‘I think you’ve got that the wrong way around.’ Surely in the anticipation of joy there’s a little pain, at least for me. I’m not the most patient person. I lay my cheek against the mattress in preparing myself for what’s to come.

Experience tells me it’s going to be me.

‘No,
habibti
.’ His fingers brush the roundness of my butt then, agonizingly deliberate, he brushes between my legs.

I close my eyes, absorbing the minutiae of our coupling: our breathing, mine rapid and shallow, his slow and deep. The appliqué woven into the bedding lying rough against my face. My breasts as they rub against the edge of the bed and the floor unforgiving beneath my knees. Immersed in the external sensations, I cry out as his fingers drive inside.

Sensations coalesce and consume, I begin to whimper as I come undone.