Page 72 of Unsuitable

My eyes are on his chest. I’m afraid to lift my eyes to his. I know that, if I do, then this will all be over.

I can feel the heat of his stare on me.

He says my name again.

Inwardly, I’m panting and needy.

Outside, I’m…panting and needy.

Could I be more obvious?

His hand moves from my waist, leaving me cold. Then, his fingers slide under my chin. He unclips the helmet, removing it, and drops it to the floor beside us. Not once do his eyes leave mine.

His fingers brush back the loose strands of my hair. Finally, I lift my eyes to his.

And his are blazing. On fire. For me.

My whole body trembles from the inside out.

He infinitesimally moves in.

He’s going to kiss me. Holy shit, he’s going to kiss me.

And I’m going to let him.

I close my eyes in anticipation.

Then…

Ariana Grande’s “Into You” blares loudly from my phone. It’s set as my ringtone.

My phone is ringing.

My eyes snap open to meet Kas’s, which are wide with surprise. I watch in those brief seconds as a multitude of emotions flash through his eyes. Shock, horror, regret…but the one that hits me the hardest is disgust. And the way his hands drop from me, like I just infected him with a deadly disease…it makes me feel sick.

Why is he so repulsed by the thought of touching me? Kissing me?

Because I’m the staff? Or is it because I’m just a maid? Because I’m poor? Because I’ve been in prison?

He thinks I’m not good enough for him…

Pain lances across my chest, and in this moment, I’ve never felt more worthless.

He steps back from me. One step. Two.

His hands go to his head, dragging through his hair. “Fuck,” he growls. Then, his eyes are back on me. Cold and hard. “For fuck’s sake, Daisy!” he snaps. “Answer your goddamn phone!”

I jump at the harshness in his voice, and I’m surprised that I actually forgot my phone was still even ringing.

I grapple to unzip the pocket on the back of the jodhpurs where I stashed my phone. As I pull it out, it stops ringing. I stare down at the screen, seeing the missed call. I don’t recognize the number, but I do know it’s a London area code.

I keep my eyes glued to my phone. I daren’t look up at Kas.

I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I do.

More disgust. Maybe some repulsion.

The memory makes my eyes sting.