Juliette stared at him. Really stared at him through narrowed, wary eyes.
“Are you crazy?” she blurted. “Or some weird pervert? What’s wrong with you?”
Killian’s eyes darkened as he jerked back. “Excuse me?”
She yanked her hand out from under his. “Why do you keep giving me things? Do you have some weird fetish I should know about and this is your way of easing me into it?”
“I have quite a few fetishes, but none that are overly … weird,” he muttered. “I like eating pussy. A lot. I especially like eating yours. It’s all I’ve thought about since we sat down. Right here.” He touched the table top directly in front of him. “With your legs over my shoulders. Then I’d take you to that wall there,” he pointed to a nearby slab of granite making up a sort of bench joined to the railings along the terrace, “have you straddle it and lean forward so I can fuck you from behind.” He said it all so casually, like he was discussing nothing more than how lovely the scenery was. “In that position, every thrust would rub your pussy and nipples against the rough stone. I think you’d like it.”
“Shit…” She had no recollection of speaking out loud until the words blurted out of her. In her seat, her ass wiggled slightly, the pressure between her legs too intense to hold still. “That…” she broke off to run an anxious tongue over her lips.
Amused by the rise of color in her face, Killian leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I like sex,” he whispered. “I plan on having a lot of it with you. Starting tonight.”
“Tonight?” Her voice was barely above a croak.
He rose out of his seat in a single, fluid motion. His black eyes never left hers as he extended one hand to her. Juliette accepted before she could even think to stop herself and he tugged her to her feet.
For a moment, for one heart stopping second, she almost thought he would follow through with his promise to take her on the stone bench. Her entire body tightened with anticipation. Her breasts swelled. The nipples tingled. She almost begged. She could feel it bubbling up her chest.
He pulled her into his chest with one gentle tug of his arm around her middle. The collision of their bodies ripped a moan from her that tightened his grip.
“Tonight,” he murmured quietly into her upturned face, “you will come to the estate, take off your clothes, climb into bed and play with yourself until I arrive. You will make yourself wet for me and bring yourself to the very brink, but you will not come, do you understand?”
Cotton mouthed, Juliette could only nod furiously.
“Good.” The hand holding hers uncurled and lifted to pinch her chin. He forced her head back even further. “Welcome to the next twelve months, little lamb.”
Chapter 11
Killian hadn’t been sleeping when Frank announced Juliette’s arrival at four in the morning. He hadn’t realized how late it was until he’d lifted his gritty eyes off the merger contract he’d been working on and found the bigger man darkening the doorway of Killian’s office.
He set his pen down and winced at the pain that lanced through his hand. His fingers creaked as he forced them open.
“Take her to my room, please, Frank,” he instructed, massaging the stiffness from his joints.
Inclining his head, Frank stalked away.
Killian rose and ventured to the window. The world outside was illuminated by a pregnant moon and a skyline glowing with golden light. The predawn hour had his lips pursing; had he known how late it would be when she arrived, he would have … what? Told her to come tomorrow night? No doubt she was working then, too. And in the morning and afternoon. When did the girl plan on sleeping? He wondered, undoing his cuffs and rolling the sleeves up.
It baffled him beyond reasoning why she was so desperate to cling on to how she’d been living all those years. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was the fear of letting go and having everything falling apart. He knew there were nights he felt that way. Control was a demon that always found a way to demand more. He could understand that. He could understand her need to keep surviving. He would respect that. If she thought she could do it, then who was he to say otherwise? But the moment it started to drag her under, all bets were off.
Abandoning his place, he left the office and made his way across the estate to his room. It was a bit of a walk, but it was the only room in the entire place with a bed he actually enjoyed sleeping on. There were guestrooms he could take his company to, and he had in the past. They were closer to the front door and convenience was everything. But he usually tried to make it to his own room whenever possible. The women never stayed the night, not in his bed, not in his home, so it was usually just him in bed anyway; overnight visits hinted at a deeper sort of intimacy he refused to have.
The door to the room was shut firmly closed. There was no sound on the other side and he suspected she was probably just getting comfortable.
She wasn’t in bed when he let himself in. The room was empty and he was beginning to wonder if Frank had taken her to a different room when the bathroom door opened and she emerged, looking drawn and ashen. The hairs at her temples were damp, indicating she’d probably been splashing water on her face, possibly to elevate some of the puffiness. There were dark, purple halos around her eyes and fine pinch lines around her mouth. Yet, despite that, she smiled when she saw him.
“Hi!” she said, her voice gravelly with exhaustion. “I thought I would have more time to get ready.”
He went to her before she could reach for the first button on her maid uniform. His hands lifted and he took her chin in his palms. He peered into her eyes, into the warm pools of brown amongst a sea of faint red.
“You’re tired,” he observed.
She started to shake her head. “No, I’m fine—”
“That wasn’t a question,” he cut in sharply. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, but—”
He released her and took a step back. “Go home.”
She blinked. “What? But you said—”
“I won’t have you like this,” he told her evenly. “You’re barely able to keep on your feet.”
“I’m fine!” she protested. “I’ve gone days without sleeping before.”
That only managed to piss him off all the further.
“Those days are over,” he said, willing his temper down. “I know we agreed you could keep your jobs, but I won’t have this. I won’t have you coming to me like this when you have to work again in a few hours. I won’t have you spending the precious few minutes you have to sleep fighting to stay awake in my bed.”
She stared at him with apprehension. “What are you saying?”
“That you need to pick one job, Juliette. Only one. I prefer the one that leaves your nights open for me, but I’ll leave the decision to you. And before you begin arguing, this isn’t a request. Your health and wellbeing is the only things that matter and you’re running yourself into the ground. I won’t let you.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. Whether it was because she didn’t know what to say or because she was too tired to think of anything, he wasn’t sure.
“Have you even eaten?” he broke in before she could find her voice.
“Eaten?” she mimicked like the thought had never occurred to her. “What—?”
“Food,” he explained. “You barely touched your plate at lunch. Have you eaten since?”
The confusion crinkling her brow said it for her.
Killian exhaled with a growl. He scrubbed viciously at his face and turned away from her before he did something unforgivable, like shake her.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Juliette said, her voice high.
“The problem,” he said, forcing himself to face her once more, “is that when I have you on that bed, I want you awake and ready to take everything I do to you. I want you alive in my arms. I want you writhing and screaming and begging me for more. What I don’t want is to worry about how much sleep you’re going to get before you have to work another sixteen hour shift or if you’re going to remember to eat properly. That is the problem.”