“It leads to the sunroom and conservatory,” Killian said, catching her. “The gym and media room are on the other side.”
On the other side of what? Juliette was about to ask, but did it really matter? She wasn’t there for a tour.
He led her down a hallway that widened down yet another corridor lined with doors. The cold feeling of dread took over again, making her strides sloppy; every step rattled, making her heels scrape noisily in the silence. She tried to pull herself together, but the further they went, the less she wanted to be there.
This was not how she had envisioned her first time, with a guy whose last name she didn’t even know. It definitely wasn’t out of obligation or fear. But she didn’t know how to stop it now, how to walk away without putting Vi or herself in danger. She had to go through with it. She had to finally end the nightmare. It was clear from the drive up that Killian knew what he was doing where women were concerned so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she might even like it. Then she would forget all about it and everything would be okay.
“You don’t have to do this.” Killian’s voice snapped her out of her own pep talk. It jerked her head up to find him standing in the open doorway of a room, watching her. “You can leave if you like. Frank will call you a cab.”
Yes! She wanted to cry. Better yet, she wanted to spin on her heels and make a mad dash back down to the foyer. But she stayed.
“You said I couldn’t back out once I said yes in the limo,” she reminded him.
Killian nodded slowly. “I meant it, but I don’t force women either.”
Something about that statement and the ferocity darkening his face calmed the unease snapping through her. His offer to let her get out coaxed her closer.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave.”
To prove it, she slipped past him into the room.
It didn’t surprise her to see the enormous bed taking up most of the space. But it did surprise her that there was very little else in the room. A set of French doors took up one wall. There were two doors on the other and a dresser against the wall next to the door. Two end tables with lamps flagged the bed. The room itself was bathed in a mute darkness held at bay solely by the white light pouring through the French doors. The rectangular patch of light spilled across the white fabric of the neatly made bed and her stomach twisted.
“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” he instructed, coming up behind her.
But rather than touch her, he moved past her towards the glass doors. He unhooked the latch keeping them closed and let the panels swing open to the humid night. The movement rippled across the wide expense of his back. Even through the dress shirt, the toned muscles were painfully visible. He had an amazing build, she thought, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He had an amazing face and hands and eyes and … Christ, he was just all kinds of lust worthy. It was almost a shame that they had to meet that way. That he couldn’t be just some normal guy who walked into the diner one afternoon and struck up a conversation with her. But that would have been too easy and nothing about her life had been easy in years.
Juliette was still studying him when he turned back to her. His black eyes roamed over her and she blinked.
“Oh!”
Blushing, she reached for the straps on her camisole. It was an act she’d done a million times before in the privacy of her own bedroom. Plus there had been that weekend with Stan, but it hadn’t been weird. She’d been with Stan a whole year before he saw her naked. Stripping for a stranger was a whole different experience. It didn’t help that he refused to look away. That his eyes were burning holes through her.
Her hands trembled as the material was pulled down her arms and her breasts sprung free. He’d already seen them … hell, he’d seen all of her, yet she had to suppress the urge to cover herself when her nipples pulled tight, tugging at some invisible wire connected to her lower region. She left the material bunched around her waist as she picked at the zipper holding her skirt in place. The tongue tugged down without any effort and the circle of fabric fluttered to the floor in a halo around her ankles. Her top followed. She stepped out of both to stand before him in her heels and panties. Tentatively, she hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her panties.
He was across the room and looming over her before the material could even pass the sharp edges of her hipbones. His large hands settled over hers, stilling the descent. Juliette tipped back her head in surprise. He met her gaze unwavering and sharp while sliding lean fingers under the elastic with hers. Together, they eased the material all the way to her knees. He released and it slipped down the rest of the way to catch at her ankles.
She was naked.
He wasn’t.
The sensation was odd.
He took her hand and helped her step out of her discarded panties. He kept holding her up while she kicked out of her shoes. Feet planted flat on the floor, she was forced to tip her head back drastically to peer up into his face.
“On the bed,” he told her quietly.
Swallowing audibly, Juliette made her way around him and started to the four poster bed with its handcrafted posts and satin sheets. It was the sort of bed she would have loved any other time.
Behind her, Killian followed. The floorboards creaked beneath his slow strides. Each step closer sent her heart pattering just a little faster until it was a wild drum banging between her ears. She stopped when her knees bumped into the mattress. She didn’t dare turn, not even when she felt the prickle of his presence skim the full length of her spine.
“How do you like it?” The question whispered hot along the slope of her shoulder.
“Like it?” Her voice sounded weak and small even to her own ears.
His lips skipped her shoulder and Juliette jumped.
“To be fucked,” he clarified against the spot connecting her neck to her shoulder.
Juliette wondered if he could feel just how hard her pulse was beating against the soft skin of her throat. It was practically trying to tear free.
“Um…” She licked her dry lips. “I’m not picky. They’re all nice.”
His mouth stopped. It lifted off her neck, leaving the spot feeling chilled. She felt him draw back. Then she was being turned to face him.
There was silent laughter dancing in his eyes when she dared herself to peek up and his mouth did that twitching thing, like he was fighting not to let them curve, which she didn’t understand.
“They’re nice?” he mimicked.
Feigning experience was a lot harder than she had anticipated. She probably should have put more enthusiasm in her statement.
“I … I just want you inside me,” she blurted, hoping to God he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice.
He was still biting back his grin when he spoke. “Get on your back.”
Gingerly, Juliette lowered herself down on the cool sheets and watched as he stayed looming over her. Shadows concealed his eyes, but she could feel the path of their attention working lazily up and down the hills and valleys of her body. The silent scrutiny worked along her skin like phantom fingers. Heat rippled through her, teasing her nipples and reigniting the fire he’d lit back in the limo. It was intensified when he began to undress, when his fingers began the progression down the front of his dress shirt, undoing each button in their path. The fabric was shrugged off wide shoulders and pitched carelessly aside. He wore nothing under and the play of shadows across smooth ivory made her shift restlessly. It pooled in the hallows and indents of his hard chest and the neat cut of his stomach. Toned muscle roped and shifted along strong arms and she was momentarily distracted by the thought of having them close around her. It was the jingle of his belt buckle and the hiss of his zipper that brought her back.