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 surethatisn’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 doingthat.
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 thanthis.’ 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 sensualall at the same time. How does he manage that? And done playing nice? Does that mean he’s going to play naughty or justnot ... 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?’
