‘I’ll break more than your nose, pal, if you come at me again.’
‘I’ll ab you! I’ll ducking ab you!’
‘You reckon?’ Keir replies, amused. He turns back to me then, pulling my wrists between our bodies and frowning down at them. ‘Has he done this before?’ His hazel eyes rise to mine, the fierceness in his gaze startling.
‘No,’ I answer quietly, tears beginning to gather at the brim. ‘I had no idea he could be like this.’
‘Ged away brom er!’ Robin steps forward as though to intervene.
‘You want me to leave her alone? What, so you can bash her again?’ I find my wrists in the air, no longer held as Keir begins to move almost as quickly as Robin steps backwards. ‘There’s a special place in hell for men who hit women.’
‘Keir, don’t.’ Not because I don’t want to see him squashed like a bug, but I’d hate for Keir to get into trouble over me. Robin may look like an overgrown student, but he’s backed by a powerful machine. Publicity people, and lawyers up the wazoo.
‘You want to spare his bruises?’ he asks quite unkindly.
I shake my head. ‘No, that’s not it at all.’
‘I’ll ab you in courd,’ Robin crows. Or at least he tries to.
‘See, that’s no’ to my taste. Corduroy is more for hipster fuck boys like you.’
‘I think he means court,’ I add, the thought making me sick.
Fingers still at his bloody nose, Robin mistakes my intervention, puffing out his chest. ‘Ab you arresded.’
‘The police?’ Keir looks delighted. ‘You must really be sick of your life, pal.’ He takes a quick threatening step, causing Robin to almost tip in his haste to stumble back. ‘Come on.’ Palm up, he curls his fingers in several times. ‘Why don’t we leave the threats of court and police, and you and me step outside?’
‘You’re a ducking Neanderdal.’
‘And you’re gonna need that thing set,’ Keir replies, letting his arms drop to his side. He straightens, adding sardonically, ‘We wouldn’t want to spoil those pretty boy looks.’ Then he bursts out laughing. ‘Sorry,’ he says, wiping a hand down his face as though he could remove his smile. ‘But you’re a sorry looking fuck. You’d never have a chance with a looker like her,’ he says, tilting his head my way. ‘Unless you’ve a dick like a Coke can, but from what she’s said, that’s not true. Must be your sparkling wit and personality, aye?’
‘Duck you,’ Robin spits, all bubbling blood and venom. ‘An duck her.’
‘Now you’re talkin’,’ Keir retorts. ‘Come on, darlin’,’ he says, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me in tight. ‘I say we take his advice.’
Chapter 7
KEIR
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says for what seems like the hundredth time as we step out of the lift onto her floor. I hear what she says—of course, I do—but the majority of my attention is glued to her arse as she steps out in front. The tight material of her dress hugs her curves like a second skin, leaving me guessing at what she’s wearing underneath. I blame the wee peek she blessed me with in the coffee shop; the flash of dark satin and the tiny flowers that seem to have become embedded in my brain.
Seriously, every time I’ve closed my eyes since, that’s what I see.
‘You really don’t need to walk me back to my room, you know.’ Paisley stops dead in her tracks, her hand on my forearm causing my attention to snap up. ‘I was thinking maybe I should just head home.’ She tips her gaze up to me, all bright blue eyes and trusting face. But she shouldn’t trust me. Not with the way I currently feel. I wonder if she can feel my body vibrating under her fingertips?
Fucking and fighting. For me, those two things have always gone hand in hand. From the skinny, scrappy lad who grew up in a shitty flat at the arse end of a working class Scottish town to now; the man with an empire worth hundreds of millions. My fights are less physical these days, but my wins are still the same. On an intellectual level, I get it. Fighting and fucking are both their own kind of stimuli—it’s a transference thing. Downstairs, I’d wanted to punch that prick until my arms ached. I couldn’t, because adulthood, and now I have this build up, this force inside me needing an outlet. If she slid her hand from my arm to my zipper right now, she’d know. She’d probably recoil from me and quite sensibly so. Because I need to sink my cock deep in her to satiate the ache. Need like I need my next breath.
But I’m good at restraint. Restraint is my thing.
It’s so fucked up, I know. I shouldn’t be walking her to her room even though it’s the right thing to do. Because chivalry might get kicked in the arse when we reach her door. It was easier in the ballroom. Easier to say no. But hyped up and with no outlet for this pent-up energy, I might just throw caution to the wind and throw her up against the wall, then really go to town.
Except I won’t. Because I’m not a kid anymore. I’m in charge of my actions, not the other way around. And hasn’t it already cost me a fortune in therapy to get to this point?
But still, I’d like to angry fuck some sense into her. It might actually do her some good.Apart from the pleasure of a good, solid fucking.Because some women are such shite judges of character when it comes to men.Like my junkie mother.I push the thought to the back of my head.
‘Keir?’
Fuck. My jaw is rock fucking tight in my effort not to act on how I feel.
