I repeated it, expecting a laugh, a statement dismissing Brooke.
I got neither. He only stared after them, a somber look in his eyes. We watched as the caravan of SUVs disappeared. Kai moved in front of me, bending down, and picked me up. I faced him, my legs on either side of his waist. I laid my arms over his shoulders, my hands dangling behind him. His eyes found mine, and I rested my forehead to his. I closed my eyes, enjoying the way he carried me back into the warehouse and he laid me down on the bed.
I was pressed against the shower wall, my breasts against the wet glass and my hands pinned above my head as Kai thrust into me from behind. Every inch of him was molded against me, his teeth nipping, kissing the back of my neck and shoulder as he moved deep inside of me.
“Kai,” I moaned, gasping for breath as water slid into my mouth.
He groaned in response, his hand moving from my hip to wedge in front of my body. He grabbed one of my breasts, cupping it, his thumb rubbing over my nipple. He continued thrusting in me, moving slowly, so slowly.
I was burning up. The water did nothing to cool me down.
He tugged me back against him, his hands sliding all over me, torturing me. He circled my breasts, caressing them, then trailed his hands down until they rested between my legs. He rubbed over my clit. He’d already given me one orgasm before he began to move inside of me. Now his dick stretched me, filling me completely, and he rotated his hips, getting me in just the right spot.
I gasped, arching my back against him, and his hand moved up to my throat. His thumb stretched up to press against my mouth, and he turned my head back to his, his mouth on mine.
“Oh, God.” I whimpered. “Kai.”
He growled, nipping my bottom lip. His hips drove against mine, pushing one last time and lifting my entire body from the force. He caught me again, holding me in place, his fingers clamping down on my hip before he dropped his hold on my wrists. Grabbing my waist, he bent over me, sucking the back of my shoulder, and he began moving more forcefully.
I reached back, grabbing his neck. My back arched, and my breasts grazed the glass wall.
I was building, building. Coming. Closer. Higher.
“Come.” His command was savage, and my body responded.
With breakneck speed, he pushed me over the edge, and I collapsed in his arms. He waited as my body trembled, and then he turned me around. His cock was still hard. He wasn’t done.
Sometimes he would lay me on the bed. Sometimes he would bend me over the bed. Sometimes he would place me on the bathroom counter, slide in, and finish. I never knew for sure where he would take me.
This time, he merely hoisted me up, his arms under my ass. My legs wound around his waist, and he moved back inside of me.
Reaching up, I held on to the shower head and arched my back again. He caught my breast in his mouth, and then he pushed deep, deeper, farther inside. It was these moments—after I had come the second time and right before he climaxed— when he would pause and I would feel him so much inside of me that we were one person.
I breathed that in again, one hand leaving the shower head and trailing down his back. My hips moved with his until he roared, coming, shooting inside of me.
We’d been like this for the last four days.
There was an insatiable need inside of Kai. He never spoke of it, but it was there. We hadn’t left the warehouse, not once.
He carried me out of the shower, placing me on the counter and moving away. Silent. This was the pattern.
Now he would dry off, change. He would towel me dry, bring me clothes. Sometimes he would help me put them on, as if I were precious and delicate. Sometimes he’d stand back and watch, a darkness swirling in his depths, his eyes growing heated. When I was dressed, he’d take my hand and lead me back to the main room. We would either eat, curl up on the couch, watch a movie, spend quiet time on our computers, or relax in bed. A few hours later, he would reach for me again, and we’d start the routine all over.
He barely said a word.
I barely asked a question.
This was hedging on day five now. It was four in the morning, and I let out a sigh. I would need to press the issue.
He paused, pulling a shirt over his head. He glanced at me, but said nothing.
He shook his head, his eyes shuttering, closing me out from whatever was going on inside of him. He pulled on some pants and padded over to me. He cupped the back of my head and leaned in for a soft kiss. It was too soft. Tantalizing. I went with him as he started to pull away, unable to keep a moan from escaping.
God. He tasted so good.
His forehead rested against mine. “We can’t leave until you’ve seen your father.” Then he pulled away, leaving me in the bathroom. For the first time over the last few days, I walked out alone, with a towel wrapped around me, dripping water onto the floor. Some of me had begun to air dry, but my hair was soaked. Kai was in the closet.
I went to the dresser where my clothes were and finished drying off. I pulled on black leggings and an oversized V-neck tunic that draped at my thighs. When I was done, Kai had moved to the kitchen, so I went after him. I watched him start the coffee machine, still patting my hair dry, and I curled up on one of the kitchen chairs.
“You’re waiting for me? Is that what you’re saying?” There was more to it. There had to be. I now watched him pull out a pan, a loaf of bread, as the coffee machine brewed.
I waited for him to answer my question. When he didn’t, I said, “Kai.”
He sighed, pausing to look up at me. “No. I’m waiting for myself.”
“For yourself? What do you mean?”
This was it. I felt it then. This was the day we would face whatever was going to happen in the future. A fear pricked me, making me wonder if he had plans for me I didn’t know about. My mouth dried. “You’re not—you’re not going to leave me?”
His eyes widened. He was out of the kitchen in a flash.
I expected him to say something, anything, to ease my sudden paranoia. He said nothing, but he picked me up, so easily and swiftly. I knew he was strong. I had felt it so many times, but I still marveled.
He hugged me to him, smoothing a hand down my hair and back. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go, to be honest.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I heard his words like a whisper carried away on a sudden breeze. I wondered if he’d actually said them.
But then I heard, “Not fully.”
I smoothed my hands down his front and tried to smile. “You sure? Because you just scared me a bit.”
“Hmmm.” He hugged me tighter before depositing me on the counter next to where he had the bread. Kissing me briefly, he stepped back, but kept a hand on my leg, pulling more bread slices out, then grabbing a bowl from the cupboard behind me.
“What are you making?”
“French toast.” He pulled eggs, milk, vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon from the fridge and cupboards. He began whisking the batter, moving back to stand between my legs and reaching over to turn the burner on.
He had never cooked. This was completely new.
He smirked at me, putting oil into the pan. “Brooke’s not the only one who has some culinary tendencies.”
I liked this look on him. I liked it a lot.
I remained there, content, never moving more than a step or two away from me. He began piling the French toast he made onto a large plate. He was making more than enough, but then I realized he wasn’t cooking just for us. He was cooking for the guards, and with a lost and distracted look in his eyes.
He was cooking to distract himself.
I slid my fingers through his hair, enjoying how he closed his eyes and moved his head like a cat, savoring the caress from me.
“You mentioned my father before.”
He grimaced, stiffening. “Can we not talk about him?”
We hadn’t been talking about him for four days. I frowned.
“I think we should.”
He was so tense now.
“Kai,” I said gently.
I touched his side just before he ripped away from me. Flicking the stove off, he took the platter of toast and carried it to the door. He opened it and offered the French toast to the two guards outside. “Here. Take these downstairs to the break room.”
I didn’t hear what the response was, but Kai grabbed a bottle of maple syrup and passed it to them. He closed the door again and turned to regard me. His tortured expression was back, hitting a nerve in me and stirring me up.
I hated whatever was bothering him.
He raked a tired hand through his hair, reaching behind him to lock the door. He moved to the living room.
I followed him, sitting on one end of the couch and pulling one of the blankets folded over the back to my lap.
I waited. That’s all I could do.