“Fuck—Farah,” he grits out, voice low and wrecked.
His grip tightens on my waist, holding me in place as he drives into me. The sound of skin meeting skin is dizzying—matched only by his uneven, labored breathing.
“Christ,” he mutters, the word guttural and lost in his throat as he pounds harder, faster.
He groans, sharp and raw, and with one last thrust, he comes—every muscle pulled tight as he buries himself deep.
He rocks into me once. Twice. Slower now, like he’s wringing every last pulse of pleasure from his body.
A low, wrecked sound escapes his throat—sated and rough—before he finally pulls out.
Then stillness. The crackling silence of aftermath.
He collapses over me, hand sliding down my side, and pulling me into him as he lays down next to me.
Even as I start to relax beside him, it takes me a moment to remember to exhale. When I catch Kieran’s eye, a surprised laugh bubbles out of me. His mouth curves, his eyes crinkling as a low chuckle rumbles from his chest. He leans in, brushing a kiss against the spot where my head met the headboard.
“You good?” he murmurs. “Didn’t mean to have you bouncing off the damn furniture.”
“I’d be mad if you hadn’t,” I say, breathless but grinning.
He gives me one last look before easing off the bed. He grabs his pants, tugging them back up over his hips and zipping them with one sharp motion. Then his hand slips into his pocket to check his phone, his cheststill rising and falling like he hasn’t quite caught his breath yet.
“I’m sorry, Farah, but I need to get to the house. I need to make sure that security is there,” he says. “I’ll have to shower at home. Thank you for being so goddamn tempting.”
He kisses me—on the lips, on the corner of my lips, and on my cheek.
“I hope you know that you’re not off the hook,” he says. “I’ll want you again when I come back.”
“I hope so,” I say. “How else will I know what to do with my hands?”
He smirks at me before leaving the room. I listen to the suite’s door open and close. I lean back, hitting my head against the headboard again. I close my eyes.
I could trust him. I could accept that Ellie is his sister and he just doesn’t want us to meet during her engagement party.
Or I could take out enough money with his card to run so far he’ll never be able tofind me again.
But neither of those two options is the kind of person I am anymore.
After ten minutes have passed, I pick up the hotel phone and ask the front desk to call me a taxi. They offer me one of their drivers instead, which I accept.
I know that no matter what, the truth is going to rip me apart. But I’d rather be dissected by my own hand than be surprised by the knife later.
When the hotel driver drops me off, I nearly don’t recognize the mansion. Even the gate has been decorated with cerulean ribbon and purple, white, and blue periwinkle flowers. Even the last bits of snow are gone. It’s like his cold, empty mansion has been turned into a fairytale castle.
At the very least, Kieran genuinely loves her.
It’s such a shocking change that I nearly trip over my feet when I see two men standing at the entrance,wearing all black and holstered guns. One of them raises his eye at me.
“Are you on the guest list, ma’am?” he asks. “This is a private party.”
“I know,” I say. “For Ellie. Um, I’m friends with Kieran. I’ve been living here.”
“Is that right?” he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Why weren’t you in the house then?”
“We were at a hotel. He must have showed up here about fifteen minutes before I did.”
The two men exchange looks. I let out a slow breath.