Unsuitable (17 page)

I need the distance.

I’m sick of him running hot and cold. I’m tired of being yelled at. And of him treating me with kindness one minute and then treating me like I have the plague the next.

Sure, he has come in here and apologized for, yet again, being a dickhead. Don’t get me wrong; the apology is a first and a shock. But I’ve had enough of his dickish ways.

The silence between us stretches and drags. I’ve overdried my hands. Now, I’m counting the tiles on the wall.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I toss the towel on the counter and turn around to face him. “Is there something you need me to do?”

That’s it, Daisy. Keep it work-related. Don’t make it personal.

Is it personal?

Kas warily eyes me. Then, he tips his head in the direction of the bag of muffins I brought him, which is now sitting on the center island.

“You can help me eat those.” His words are soft but ineffective.

“No, I’m good. Anything else?”

He stares at me, surprised and also like he’s not sure what to do now.

What did he think was going to happen? That I’d fall at his feet and say,
Yes, Kas! Of course I want to help you eat those muffins that I brought you and put in your office before you yelled at me.

Not likely, arsehole.

“Is there something else you need?” I push.

I’m pushing because I want to get out of here and away from him.

His brows draw together in consternation. “No.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve got work to do, so…” I pivot on my heel and make for the door.

“Actually…”

His low tone stops me in my tracks, and I slowly turn to face him.

He pushes off the counter and walks forward, stopping by the island. The look in his eyes makes my heart bang against my rib cage. He leans his hip against the island and folds his arms over his chest. I ignore how good his arms look while stretched over that magnificent chest of his.

Magnificent chest. Have you heard me?

You dislike him, remember, Daisy?

“I changed my mind,” he says. “There is something you can do for me.”

I frown. “What is it?”

“You can accept my fucking apology.”

I laugh.

I actually laugh.

His brows angrily crash together.

Still laughing, I say, “You really need to work on your apologies, Mr. Matis.”

That makes his frown deeper.

Tired of this conversation and him, I turn and start to leave, but he stops me—this time, with a hand on my wrist.

Surprised that he got across the kitchen that quickly, I spin back and find myself staring up into his livid black eyes.

“What are you doing?” I fire at him.

But it’s like he didn’t hear me. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he says low and seething.

Taken aback by his words, I say, “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Then, just like the snap of fingers, I change my mind. “Actually, I do want something from you. I want you to stop yelling at me!” It’s funny I say that because I’m yelling at him right now. “I want you to stop being a wanker to me! I want you to stop running hot and cold with your moods! I want you to treat me like a human being—all the time and not just some of the time! I want—”

I don’t get to finish that sentence. My words are cut off by his mouth.

Because the bastard kisses me.

He actually plants his lips on mine and kisses me.

Tw
enty

He’s kissing me.

Holy shit. Kas is kissing me.

He’s kissing me!

It takes a fifth of a second for that shock to wear off. Then, the feel of his lips against mine registers, and all bets are off.

My free hand finds its way to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. I part my lips on a soft moan. He takes advantage of that and slips his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeper. And I give back as good as I get.

Kas backs me up to the wall, his mouth still firmly on mine.

His hand is gripping my wrist. He pins my arm to the wall and then pins the lower half of his body with mine, trapping me. Not that I’m looking to get away anytime soon. Or ever.

And, holy hell…he’s hard. I can feel his erection digging into my stomach.

I made him hard from just a kiss.

Go, me!

The feel of him hard and pressed up against me with his tongue sweeping delicious strokes over mine has me squirming. I’m pretty sure my knickers are damp as well.

God, the man can kiss.

I could write songs about how well he can kiss.

But then that would be weird. And, also, I can’t write for shit.

Kas drops my wrist and takes ahold of my face with both hands, and then he angles my head so that he can kiss me exactly how he wants to. And I have absolutely no problem with that.

I slide my hands around his back, wanting to feel him, solid and strong beneath my fingers.

His tongue sweeps over my bottom lip, making me moan and move against him.

I feel a shudder run through him, and he presses even harder against me.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans before taking my mouth again.

He kisses me with more intensity, bordering on crazy.

And I match him stroke for stroke.

We’re pulling on each other, both taking what we need. Basically fucking the hell out of each other’s mouths.

All of him is against me, and even still, I don’t feel close enough.

I want more of him. I want
all
of him.

I hook my leg around his. His hand leaves my face and slides down to my thigh. He lifts my leg higher, hooking it around his hip.

He shifts his lower body, grinding himself against me.

Right on the very spot where I need him. The spot that’s begging for his touch.

His teeth graze over my bottom lip as he thrusts up against me.

“Yes, Kas,” I moan.

And that’s when everything changes.

Or stops. Or goes wrong.

I’m not really sure what happens. All I do know is that he’s no longer moving, no longer kissing me.

He pulls back, staring at me like he doesn’t even know me. Doesn’t know why he’s here.

His brows draw together, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He looks like he’s in pain.

A cold, sick feeling trickles into my stomach.

My hands drop from him.

His eyes flash open. The look I see in them…regret.

Fucking regret.

I feel like ice has just been poured all over me, the shards sharp and stinging against my skin.

His hand slips from my thigh, letting my leg drop to the floor. The sound of my shoe hitting the tiled floor is loud in this painful silence.

He steps back from me.

My chest hollows out.

“Kas…”

He turns on his heel and strides away, leaving me here.

What?

I sink back against the unforgiving wall.

What…just happened?

We were here and kissing, and it was amazing. I mean, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And then he…looked like he didn’t even know why he was kissing me, and he walked away without a word.

I don’t get it.

Or…

Maybe he just remembered exactly whom he was kissing.

Oh God.

I feel sick.

He really does think I’m beneath him.

Maybe I am.

I’m dirt-poor. Fresh out of prison. I carry more baggage than Heathrow Airport.

I’m trash.

I’m his cleaner, for God’s sake!

My eyes start to sting with tears. I press the heels of my hands to them.

Kas is good-looking and rich. Yeah, he’s an arsehole ninety percent of the time, but rich people get to be arseholes.

So, why in the world would a guy like him want a girl like me?

He wouldn’t—clearly.

He obviously got lost in the moment. I was an easy way to spend a few minutes.

And didn’t I just give it up? I would have had sex with him if he’d asked.

Jesus. I’m such a fool.

My face starts to burn with shame and embarrassment.

Don’t I ever learn? Didn’t I get burned enough by the last man I let close?

And to kiss him, of all people…my boss.

But then it was him that kissed me. It wasn’t like I threw myself at him. He instigated it. And then he acted like a head case right after.

Total dick move.

I mean, who does that? Who kisses someone and then just walks away?

An arsehole—that’s who.

Kas-hole.

Well, screw him.

I don’t need his shit.

I just need this job.

I take a few gulps of air, but the air in here just feels cloggy, and all I can smell on my skin is Kas. The scent of his bloody aftershave.

Straightening my spine, I push off the wall and head toward the back door—in the exact opposite direction where Kas went.

I just need to go outside, get some fresh air. Clear my head. Figure out how to handle this monumental fuckup.

I head out back and around the side of the house, needing some quiet.

I lean against the house and rest my head back.

Sighing, I shut my eyes. But, when I do, all that happens is that I see Kas kissing me. I remember the feel of his lips on mine, like it’s happening again right now.

I want him. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.

I might not like Kas, and I might want to punch him in the nutsack. But I do want him.

How screwed up is that?

But I can’t have him because it would be the worst idea in the world, and he doesn’t want me.

He made that fact perfectly clear when he pushed away from me, looked at me with regret, and then stalked away without a word.

I breathe through the ache of his rejection.

How am I supposed to forget the way he tastes, the way he kisses, the way he feels under my hands?

How am I supposed to see him every day after this?

I’ll do it because I have no choice. He doesn’t want me, but there are more important things at stake than my lusty feelings for Kastor Matis.

And it was just a kiss. One measly kiss.

Only…it didn’t feel like just a kiss.

“Hey, whatcha doing out here? You avoiding work? Or just hiding out from Kas?” The sound of Cooper’s chuckling voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

My eyes flash open. For a second, I panic and think he knows about what just happened in the kitchen with Kas and me, but he couldn’t.

Shaking off the feeling, I push off the wall and force a smile. “Hey, Cooper. Neither. Just having a minute.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Kas giving you a hard time again?”

Is Kas giving me a hard time? Well, he was definitely hard a few minutes ago.

Before he realized whom he was getting hard for.

That douses cold water on the memory.

“No more than usual.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “What are you doing up here?” I ask him.

“Ran out of milk.” He grins.

“You’re always running out of milk. Do you guys just live on cups of tea?”

“And biscuits.”

“Can’t forget the biscuits. You ran out of them as well?”

His grin deepens.

“Lucky for you, there’s milk in the fridge and plenty of biscuits in the larder. I’ll grab them for you.”

“Before you do”—he stops me with a hand on my arm, which he quickly removes—“I, um…I wanted to ask you…” He shifts on his feet, running a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. “Well, I wondered if you’d want to have a drink on Thursday night?”

“With all the guys? Sure.” I smile at the thought of being invited to one of their outings.

“Actually…” He lifts his eyes to mine. “I meant, just you and me.”

“Oh.”
Oh.

“I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s fine.”
It is?
“I mean, sure. Yes.”
Daisy…what are you doing?

“Yes?” His eyes light up, his lips lifting into a big smile.

Shit, what am I doing? I like Cooper…but Kas…and I’ve already said yes.

“Yes,” I repeat with a smile.

His grin deepens. “Cool. Well, how about you give me your number, and I can text you to arrange it?”

“Sure. But, first, let me get you the milk and biscuits.”
And bang my head against the wall while I’m at it.

I usher him to go inside first. Watching him round the corner, I let out a low groan.

Jesus Christ, Daisy, what the hell are you playing at?

Get kissed by Kas, and then get asked out on a date by Cooper—all in the space of twenty minutes.

Great going, Daisy. Really, well done.

I think I hear movement on Kas’s balcony. My head snaps up. I move back to get a clear view, but no one is there, and the sliding door to his bedroom is shut.

Must have been a bird or the breeze or something.

“Daisy? You coming or what?” Cooper’s high voice comes from the back of the house, snapping me back to the now.

On a sigh, I say, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Tw
enty-One

“Sit still, will you? Honestly, Daisy, you’re worse than some of the kids whose hair I have to cut.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea to make such an effort with my hair when I’m not really sure that I should be going out with Cooper. I don’t want to get all dressed up and give him the wrong idea.”

Cece lowers the curling iron from my hair, and she pins me with a stare in the mirror. “One, it’s your first date since getting out of”—she hesitates—“that place.”

Cece doesn’t refer to it as prison. I think she thinks that it will upset me if she brings prison up, but it doesn’t. Honestly, I think it upsets her more—the fact that I was in there and she couldn’t do anything to help me.

“It’s not a date, Ce. We’re just two friends and work colleagues who are going out for a drink.”

She gives me a look. “He asked you out. It’s a date. And why do you think you shouldn’t be going out with him?”

I blow out a breath. “Because he asked me literally minutes after I had my tongue down my boss’s throat, and I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

My stomach twists in pleasure and pain at the memory.