Page 88 of Arrogant Bastard

“Yes! That’s it, baby. You have the power. Take it. Take it all. I’ll go wherever you lead me. Anywhere. Anytime.”

The things he says. Tears that lately seem to hover just below my surface spring into my eyes.

His thumb gently brushes my cheek as a tear slips free. “I’m yours, Faith.”

Emotion moves through me as I take him deeper into my mouth, letting my actions show him I’m his too. I draw on every past experience to drive him out of his mind, not stopping when he frantically tears at my bikini top and pulls apart the strings holding my panties. The second I’m naked, he enters the pool and takes up position behind me. Between one breath and the other, he slams deep inside me. My scream echoes over the water, before bouncing back into us.

“God, I love hearing you scream for me.”

He slams harder, and my throat sears with my louder scream. Killian fucks me with ferocious purpose, driving the message home about how much I mean to him. And I take it all, heart, body, mind, and soul. Tears spill freely from my eyes. And I’m at the point of throwing in the towel and taking the selfish way out—of confessing love before confessing guilt—when he rears up suddenly and shackles me in his arms until I almost can’t breathe. Can’t move. He throbs inside me, his cock beating as fast as his heart. “Promise me one thing. Please. Faith. Just one promise.”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“That you won’t use what’s happening to leave me.”

Shock drenches me. “Killian—”

“I’ll never ask for anything else. Just tell me you’ll never leave me again.”

My heart shrivels a little because I know whether I stay or go may be out of my hands. So I give him the promise I can. “I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”

The brutal shudder that wracks him is the start of his intense release. I’m right there along with him. He croons beautiful words in my ear, worshipping me with his body as I succumb to my own bliss.

We spend the rest of the day wrapped in each other. As I fight the sleep that inevitably takes me, I make my own silent promise. That I will fight to stay by his side if I have to.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Faith

The Fallhurst Institute is tucked away in the Santa Barbara hills. It’s designed to look nondescript, at least from the outside. There are no barbed wire fences or armed patrols warning people off the land. The single, tasteful sign is painted in a harmless blue and white. At the front desk, two smartly dressed receptionists wear headsets and offer professional smiles to anyone who strolls in, and the two bodyguards patrolling the large foyer carry their weapons discreetly.

But the moment you enter the elevator, you know you’re not in Kansas anymore.

We hold still for the infrared body scan before Killian slides a silver keycard through a slot and punches a code in the panel where the elevator floor numbers are displayed. The doors close, and the smooth descent into the bowels of the earth begins. There is no LED display to tell us how many floors we’ve navigated, and a slight feeling of claustrophobia creeps over me.

He looks over at me. His eyes are warm but his smile is tense. “You okay?”

I attempt a smile back despite my own tension. “That cave in Iceland sounds great right about now.”

He brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “Just say the word, baby.”

My heart fills to bursting. Then dips beneath the weight of my secrets. “It’s been three days, and you haven’t asked me about Cairo. Why I let Fionnella help me.”

His hand drops. His body goes rigid, and he faces forward. After a moment, he gives a self-deprecating laugh. “You wanna know why? Because I’m fucking terrified.”

My eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re one of the toughest people I know. And if you’re having a hard time telling me why you left me, then it’s something big. I thought I could face anything. But the thought of losing you once you confess is killing me. So I’m choosing to bury my head in the sand for now.”

My mouth drops open, his explanation making such sense to me that I want to hug him. Then I want to beg for forgiveness on my knees for what I’m doing to us. What I can’t undo right this minute in this cold, clandestine place. Because the elevators doors are opening, and a tall, thin man with sharp hazel eyes is waiting for us. His clothes are bigger than his frame and his pallor screams low-level analyst hunched twenty-three hours over a computer.

“Mr. Knight. Miss Carson. Welcome back to the Fallhurst Institute. My name is Scot Scarsdale.”

I have no idea who he is, but I nod in response.

We walk down a series of slate-colored corridors with closed doors on either side until we reach the last door on the right. “Your assessment consultant is waiting inside for you, Miss Carson. Mr. Knight…would you like to come with me?”

“No,” he says.

---