Page 121 of Carnal Games

It explains why the person chose the copier room.

“I’m sorry I’m not much help, Kian,” she whispers, staring at the cushion.

“Look at me,” I demand, and soften my voice. “Iris.”

She doesn’t and starts mumbling, “I should’ve screamed for help… fought back. Instead, I lay there on the floor and cried. How could I be so weak?”

I close the gap and pull her onto my lap without a second thought, but I’m mindful of her injured ribs. Threading my fingers in her silky tresses, I tug her head back until shiny ocean blue eyes lock with mine.

“You’re not weak, little rainbow.” I wipe the wetness from her cheeks and cup her face. “The person responsible is weak for ambushing you from behind, for daring to lay a hand on you. He’s on borrowed time. There’s no corner on earth where he can hide from me.”

Her small hand reaches up to lay over mine that’s pressing to her jaw. “You’re going to find him?”

“It’s a promise,” I rasp, feeling myself lean closer to her. “No one is touching you again. That’s a promise too.”

She sways closer even more. Her long eyelashes fluttering against the tops of her cheekbones. “I believe you. You’ll protect me, like last time.”

Both of us close the last space.

Our foreheads touch, bringing our mouths inches apart. I’m unable to pull away. A captive of her siren spell.

The soft gust of her breath awakens a hunger inside me. My hand around her small waist tightens as I stare at her pink mouth. So goddamn plump and inviting. Her fingers fall to my wrist and dig into my pulse.

A tilt of my chin is all it’ll take to crush my lips against hers and press a bruising kiss she won’t ever forget. A flick of my tongue to make her forget her own name.

But. I. Fucking. Can’t.

Because I didn’t see her first.

If I had….She’s not yours.

I’m too late.

The vicious reminder cuts through the thrall she’s cast on me and I move to pull away. She grips me tighter with surprising strength. As if she’s hurting as badly as me.

“Kian,” she exhales.

So near that I can make out the teardrop lingering on her lashes. “Iris, don’t beg me for something we’ll both regret.”

It’s not the kiss I’ll regret. Nobody regrets a taste of heaven. It’s putting her in a situation where she’s torn apart by guilt that I hate the thought of.

The tear loses its hold and falls as her eyes shut close. “I’m sorry.”

I pull her into a hug, even though I should push her away. Turning her head, she tucks her face in the crook of my neck and lays her palm on my chest.

“Maybe I should go back to my apart—”

“No,” I rumble before she can finish the sentence. “You’re staying under my roof.”

She relaxes and sighs. “Okay.”

I feel her breathing turn even, when loud banging on the front door breaks our connection. Iris’s head jerks up and she looks around, confused.

Standing up with her in my arms, I lay her on the bed. “I’ll get the door. Rest.”

Whoever is on the other end is trying to break down the door. I’m trying to guess who it could be since I didn’t buzzanyone up except for the delivery boy, when a familiar voice shouts, “Open up, kidnapper!”

Of course. Rosalie.

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