Hot for His Hostage (44 page)

Loved him.

“Claire? Are we done here?”

I fumed for another long moment. “Fine. Yes. We’re done here. Jerk.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, jerk.”

His chuckle filled my ear before I disconnected him for good.

I showed Christina where I kept my vacuum and whatever else she needed to clean the
place. I had to draw a line at her doing my laundry. I’d wash my own damn underwear,
thank you very much.

After loading up my laptop, some files, a bottle of water, and some fruit, I grabbed
my beach chair and towel then headed out. Before leaving, I showed Christina how to
set the alarm when she left. Apparently, she’d be stopping by on a weekly basis from
now on.

The second I got settled in at the beach, my phone rang for the fifth time. I already
knew who it was. Persistence should be the man’s middle name, not Jamison—especially
when he knew I was unhappy with him.

“Yes, dearest?”

“Why are you letting my calls go to voicemail?”

“I was driving to the beach. Sorry, I almost waited for the palanquin but figured
you’d cancel the order when realizing it would take four studs to carry it.”

“I was worried about you.” He ignored my sarcasm in favor of a gentle tone. It was
likely the closest thing I’d get to an apology right now.

“It was less than ten miles.”

“Most fatal accidents occur close to home. And your driving scares the hell out of
me. You know that.”

“So I’m supposed to make it worse—and break the law—by picking up your call?”

“I’ll just get you a driver, too. Two birds, one stone. You can get more work done
instead of stressing about the commute, and I won’t have to worry when you don’t—”

“Kil!” I couldn’t help laughing. The alternative reaction wasn’t pretty. “I swear,
you’re going to drive me to drink.”

“Fairy.”

“What?”

“Don’t be mad about the housekeeper.”

“I’m not. Anymore.”

“You deserve to be taken care of.”

“I’m over it, okay?” I sighed, my own version of a not-apology. “You’re really actually
very sweet, Mr. Stone—if overbearing and presumptuous.”

He cleared his throat with purpose, making my pulse race—and the rest of my body prepare
for the tone that came next. Silken seduction. “You fell in love with me this way.”

“And I still love you.”

“That’s damn good.” He let a long beat stretch by. Another. “Because there’s a little
more coming.”

I could hear him breathing in measured lengths, likely bracing for my tirade. Just
listening to the sound made me take pause, halting everything—yes, even the rant.

A wince grabbed my face. What was my problem? The man adored me. He was doing his
best to spoil me and I was acting like an ungrateful shrew, all because of my unfounded
fears about the what-ifs. I needed to live more in the moment.

I needed to be a better girlfriend.

“Th-there’s more?” I finally croaked.

As he laughed into the phone, I pictured him running his fingers through his gorgeous
dark hair, which was probably a little too long at the moment. Translation: completely
perfect. “Hold on,” he finally stammered back. “Are you really not going to yell?”

“I guess not. Do you want me to?”

“No!” He chuckled again. “That’s completely fine. Shit, San Diego. You certainly keep
me on my toes.”

And what amazing toes he had. Yes, I treated myself to a full inspection one night
at his place while we binged on Shark Tank and Chinese take-out. Conclusion: God had
even crafted the man’s feet with perfection.

“Soooo,” I prompted, “back to my ‘more.’”

“What about it?”

“Don’t make me pop up into your play then refuse to catch the ball, mister.” I huffed.
“Come on. Tell me what it is.”

“Nope. I want to surprise you when you get here this weekend. Can you wait that long?”

“Probably not.” Good girlfriend, remember? “But I will. I know you’ll make it worth
it.”

One of his deep, pleasure-filled growls resonated over the line. “You’re sexy when
you’re amenable.” He continued the sound, keeping me baited. “So be even more so and
let me send the jet for you this time.”

I huffed again but there was a real smile behind it. Gee, my fabulously gorgeous boyfriend
wanted to send his private jet to pick me up then fly me to spend the weekend with
him in his gazillion-dollar penthouse on the Lake Michigan shore. I think I could
arrange to be okay with that.

But just this once.

“Yes, Mr. Stone. I would love that.” A silence went by, and it wasn’t one of our comfortable
ones. “And Kil…”

“Yeah?”

“I need to…apologize to you. About earlier.”

This shit never came easy for me, and the man knew it. His voice became soft and understanding.
“It’s okay.”

“Not it’s not. I let my I-am-woman-hear me roar run a little too wild over the tundra.
The housekeeper is great—and I was ungrateful. I hope I can make it up to you?”

I tried to finish off with playful and sexy, hoping he caught on to my innuendo. Who
was I kidding? The man made innuendoes off my boring media spread sheets.

“Well, maybe a little more begging is in order—on your knees in particular, in something
small, black and scandalous. Maybe you can…coax out my forgiveness.”

Oh, hell. The man had gone from sultry to throaty, ensuring my panties would melt
off right here on the beach. What he had the capability of doing to me, simply with
his words…yeah, I had every right to be scared. If he really knew what kind of putty
I became in his thrall…

God, I was in such danger. And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to be safe again. 

“So tell me where you are.” He purposely jumped onto a more innocent track. “What
beach did you head to?” 

“La Jolla Shores,” I supplied. “I usually don’t come here since it’s a little farther
from home but since Christina took care of the chores, I had some extra time.” I paused,
sensing him smiling through the phone line. He warmed my skin more than the sun itself.
“I wish you were with me, though. You could rub lotion on my hard-to-reach spots.”

His groan was low and telling. “Oh, I know all about your little…hard spots.”

So much for innocent. I was certain the man had taken secret innuendo courses at MIT.
I was about to laugh off his tease but realized I didn’t want to. Today’s events—facing
the paparazzi, our tiff on the phone, doubting my capability to be the compliant partner
he needed—made the distance between us feel like galaxies instead of miles.

And the shadow that fell across every star in those galaxies? The secrets he was still
keeping from me. The double meanings in conversations I would sometimes overhear.
The distance that snuck into his eyes when he spoke about himself sometimes, as if
looking at himself from an outsider’s viewpoint…

How could I feel so close to him, yet so far?

I fell back on the easy stuff. The lust. After covering my legs with a towel, I pushed
them together then slid one foot up the opposite leg. The friction on every tissue
between my legs was enticing, exquisite…

And just like him.

A dark, unattainable pleasure.

“Claire?”

“Yes,” I rasped. “I’m here. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Everything. Oh, hell. Maybe I really wasn’t cut out for this role…this
being Killian Stone’s damn girlfriend. I second-guessed every other thought in my
head and comment from my mouth because when I didn’t, I flew off the handle and pushed
all his buttons, anyway. Maybe it was time to let him off the hook, go through the
hell of being heartbroken about it, then be okay with knowing I’d done the right thing
before either of us got in any deeper.

“Well, that’s bullshit if I heard any,” he muttered.

“I—I just miss you.” My voice stomped all over it, sloppy as the drunk Navy boys stumbling
down by the water’s edge. “I know it’s only been six days. I’m just…sad.” And lonely.
And pathetic. Was being in love supposed to make you sound so morose?

“Only six days?” He repeated it like I’d just told him the earth was really a square.
“You mean the one hundred and forty-four hours of sheer hell we’ve just endured? Because
I wasn’t counting or anything.”

I let a watery laugh spill out before waving my hand, actually thinking I could dismiss
my gloom like a pesky fly. Sure. That’s going to be real effective. “Go back to work,
Chicago. Forget all this; I’m just being a dumb girl. I’ll be okay by tonight, and—”

“No.”

“No…what?”

“I’m not forgetting about it.” He expelled a hard breath. “We’ve been apart too long.”

“But it’s only been a week.”

“And it’s been too long.”

I really felt silly now. “Killian, come on. I just need to chill out, and—”

“No. You need me near you, just like I need you near me. You need me pulling you off
your feet and kissing you until you’re dizzy from it. You need my hands tearing off
your clothes, then all over your naked skin…every fucking inch of it…until my fingers
find their way inside you and spread you, getting you ready for my cock. Why don’t
you tell me what you need after that, baby?”

“You.” Thank God for my sunglasses and sun hat. I pulled the brim lower, hiding the
way I panted for every breath and had shut my eyes, fantasizing all the images he
painted. “Inside me, Killian. With me.”

“Yeah, my sweet fairy. That’s exactly right. And that’s exactly what I want. I’m so
hard, so hot, so miserable. I need to be near you, holding you, a part of you—reminding
you who you belong to, where you belong. With me. Nowhere else.” His breaths were
just as rough and fast as mine. “Does that sound about right?”

Damn him. How I love him.

“Why can’t it be next weekend already?” It was a needy whisper and I didn’t freaking
care. “I wish I were wrapped in your arms…”

“Done.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Go home and pack. Bring your work clothes and files with you; you’re
working from the Headquarters office this week. And you’ll spend every night in my
bed, dammit.”

“All week?” I should have been miffed. Instead, my heart sang.

“I’m sending a driver and the plane. I’ll text you the details. Don’t bother arguing.”
The line went rough, as if he adjusted his grip on the handset again. Sure enough,
his conclusion was delivered at two lower octaves, with a chaser of thick command.
“I need you. Not just with my body. With—” He grunted as if trying to talk himself
into saying something. My heart tripped over at least ten beats. “I’m done with this
bullshit, Claire. Two weeks is too damn long. Six days is ridiculous. By tonight we’ll
be together.”

“I love you.” It came out on a sigh. I sounded loopy and lovesick, even to my own
ears. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the idea of getting to see him for more
than forty-eight consecutive hours.

“I’ll see you soon, now go get packed.”

I threw all my stuff back into my big striped beach bag and headed for the car. A
quick dusting of baby powder made sure the sand stayed at the beach, and I’d be ready
to hop right into traveling clothes. As I drove home, the songs on the radio sounded
happier, the breeze seemed lighter, and even the traffic seemed more agreeable.

Killian Stone made everything in my world better.

So was it such a horrible thing that he preferred to keep some things in his world
private?

I turned the question a few different angles during the flight.

How bad could the damn secret be, anyway? Wasn’t there a good chance I knew all the
major spots on the Stone Family’s laundry already, thanks to the research I helped
pull during Trey’s sex scandal last year as a member of the PR clean-up team? It wasn’t
like Andrea, my boss, had allowed that file to grow cold, either. Killian’s brother
was already showing signs of pulling the black fleece back out of the closet again,
frequenting a few clubs that had been his bad boy candy stores, showing up late to
meetings, jetting to Miami for long weekends…he was back on everyone’s radar.

I actually smiled while enjoying a sip of the champagne Vaughn had opened before takeoff.

Trey’s addiction to “fun” was extra stress for everyone, but after all that, how huge
of a bomb could Killian have to drop? And was it possible I’d created that bomb in
my mind…bracing myself for an explosion never to come, just because I couldn’t trust
in the good of what we had?

I had to stop pushing back all the time. Had to trust that Killian would open the
door and let me see the secrets of his tower when the time was right. I’d fallen this
hard for him without the invitation; I could certainly wait a little longer.

Before then, I vowed to be less his adversary and more his girlfriend. Be more gracious
about the extravagances, even if I didn’t need them.