The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy 2) - Page 39

Kash ignored them and turned to me. His eyes were glittering and fierce. “He wants to destroy me, even more now, and the one way to make sure he shatters me is to touch you. I will never let that happen.”

I was breathless, my stomach was in knots, and I was reeling all at the same time—and yet I wasn’t. I knew Calhoun was coming for me, but seeing Kash in action today changed everything. It all got a bit more real, a bit more surreal, and I reached for his hand.

I had to touch him.

He grounded me.

As soon as my fingers grazed his skin, I felt the roots sink into the ground.

I felt stronger.

I also had a feeling I was getting a few more guards.

I whispered, “I believe you.”

Some of the fierceness lessened, and a softness came over his face. His hand lifted, cupping the back of my head, and his fingers slid through my hair. He tugged me to him. “I need to kiss you, then I’m going to fire your classmate. You can watch if you want.”

I would be delighted to watch him fire Hoda.

EIGHTEEN

Torie greeted us as we stepped off the elevator. She was wearing a black Naveah staff shirt, black skirt, and pumps, holding a clipboard. She flashed me a smile. “Hey, girl.” A professional smile formed and she cleared her throat. She straightened, and I could see the actual employee slide into place. “Miss Mansour is waiting downstairs in the lobby. Should I give you a moment before showing her up?”

Kash’s hand was behind the small of my back. He ushered me in first, as our two guards followed us. One took point outside his office door. The other remained by the elevator. Torie moved ahead, opening his office door, and we followed inside. Kash’s hand touched my back, keeping me in place, and he moved close behind me. He said over my head, “Give us five. Erik is downstairs. Have him walk her up.”

Torie winked at me before leaving.

Once those doors were closed, the club’s music was faint, but still there.

Kash was at my side, his hand on my chin, and he was turning my head. “I need more.” His meaning became clear as his mouth touched mine, and anything I might’ve thought or felt about him having Erik show Hoda up to her firing was wiped away. The usual heat and need and desire took over, and it wasn’t long before standing and kissing me with his head tilted wasn’t enough. He groaned, taking over. Tugging me back to his office, he picked me up, sat me down on his desk, and was between my legs within one second.

Then his front hit mine, his hands were into my hair, holding my head, and his mouth was opening over mine.

Jesus.

I was swept up. My pulse was racing, my blood pumping, and I was panting as his tongue slid inside to meet mine.

One second.

Two.

Thirty.

The kiss kept going.

My legs were wrapped tight around him. Our chests smashed together.

We were doing something, or waiting for something. I was trying to remember, but I forgot everything.

I was unbuckling him, not remembering where we were, when we heard a discreet knock, followed by the elevator arriving.

Kash tore himself away from me, cursing as he did. He barked out, “Hold.”

There was absolute silence outside the door.

Not in here. I was breathing loud and ragged, trying to gather myself, still on his desk. I was half-sprawled over it, and Kash was breathing almost as hard, a few feet away. I watched him, literally watched as he closed his eyes and a wall fell over him. He’d been there with me, right there. Needing. Living. Feeling. Then a knock, the elevator ping, and I was sitting here, cold from the loss of him, and a stranger came down over him. He was pulling on his mask and his face turned granite again. He was hard, and he stared back at me. A flicker of heat speared me from his eyes before he came back to me.

He straightened out my clothes. He pulled down my sweatshirt. I hadn’t noticed when that went up.

He buckled my jeans. I hadn’t realized those were undone.

He was brushing some of my hair off my shoulders, and I saw the top button of his pants was undone. I put it back in, and he paused at my touch, his forehead coming to rest on mine. His chest rose, held, then fell back, and he cupped the back of my head. A kiss to my forehead, and he murmured there, “One hit isn’t enough.”

I knew what he meant, but I tipped my head back. “I think you mean a drug.”

His eyes were dark, holding mine. He was all serious. “No. I don’t.”

I got his meaning, and I swear, the oxygen left my lungs.

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