And if that’s not a depressing thought, I don’t know what is.
When the bathroom door swings open, I twist around, expecting to find my new friend. Instead, I’m pinned in place by dark eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kingsley flips the lock on the bathroom door. The sound is like a gunshot in the silence of the small tiled space as he leans against the thick slab of wood. My heart jackrabbits painfully under my breast as my mind registers that I’m trapped without an escape route.
“You’re not very good at following directions, are you?”
The low menace of his voice sends a fresh wave of nerves scampering across my flesh. Fear pumps through me like a living, breathing entity. Everly may not know the backstory, but she’s right about one thing.
“I don’t have to follow your orders. I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”
He smirks as amusement leaps into his eyes. “Is that so?”
I lift my chin, trying to hold on to my bravado. “Yes.”
“You’re wrong about that, I own every piece of you.” He pushes away from the door and saunters toward me. “And I always will.”
“No.” His words are like a fist wrapped around my heart, squeezing until every bit of life has been forced out of me.
“Oh, yes,” he says with a smirk.
Full-fledged panic slams through me as he stalks closer. My feet trip over each other as I scramble backward. When my shoulder blades crash into the wall, I realize there’s nowhere left to go. What I’ve learned about Kingsley is that he’s a wild card. He doesn’t play by any set of rules, he makes them up as he goes. As attractive as I find that quality, it scares the hell out of me now.
“I love the scent of your fear,” he murmurs when he’s close enough. “Or is that arousal? I can never tell with you.”
I shake my head, wanting to dismiss his words, but on some dark level, I wonder if they’re true. Buried beneath the distress is a thin layer of excitement. It makes my blood pound a little faster and my heart race a little harder. His nearness electrifies me, setting me on edge. It sharpens my senses until my body vibrates, functioning on a higher level.
How fucking sick and twisted is that?
A smile curves his lips as arousal leaps to life in his eyes. “As much as you don’t want to be turned-on, you are. As much as you wish you didn’t want me, that doesn’t change the fact that you do.”
I hate that he’s right and recognizes it, when I’m only just learning it for myself.
When he’s less than a foot away, he stops. I flatten my body against the tile, trying to keep as much physical distance between us as possible. Not that it will do me a damn bit of good. One stroke of his fingers and I’ll be lost. Swept away on a tide of sensation.
I realize it, and so does he.
My breath gets wedged in my throat as he reaches out, picking up a stray lock of hair before twisting it idly around his finger.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” His knowing gaze flicks to mine, pinning me in place. When I remain silent, he tugs on the thick strands. “I’m still waiting.”
“I don’t want you.” The fib slips almost effortlessly from my lips.
“Liar.” His teeth flash as he presses closer. The heat of his body singes mine as his steely strength aligns with my softer curves. He places one hand on each side of my head until I’m caged in. There’s no way to escape.
Fear courses through me, but he’s right, it’s tinged at the edges with arousal. It simmers beneath the surface, desperately trying to break free. Even though he has yet to touch me, my breathing turns shallow.
“What’s wrong, Summer?” His voice is full of innocence. He’s all too aware of the effect he has on me.
“Nothing.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re a compulsive liar.” His lips feather over mine until the sensation becomes agonizing. “Are you even capable of telling the truth?”
I turn my face away before squeezing my eyes tightly closed. His warm breath drifts across my cheek before he presses a kiss against the corner of my eye.
“Stop.”
“Is that really what you want?” he asks softly, stroking his lips across my flesh.
No, it’s not. I love the feel of his mouth against me, but it’s not real. It’s a game he’s intent on playing. And the only way he wins is if I get hurt.
“Yes.”
“Prove it.” Every bit of sunlight disappears between us as his body dwarfs mine and the thickness of his erection digs into my belly. “Push me away.”
My hands rise, flattening on the sinewy lines of his chest.
“Come on,” he taunts, continuing to pepper kisses that are as delicate as a butterfly wing against my skin, “you have to do better than that.”