Page 85 of Emperor of Corruption
My cheeks heat. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” Killian ducks his head down to kiss me. I turn my head to the side, giving him my cheek instead of my lips. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he says. “For now, get some rest. Our first stop is London.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Locke whisks us straight to our hotel once the plane touches down.
The lobby is beautiful and timeless; a doorman in atailcoatopens the brass-handle door for us, unearthing the scents of beeswax, old books, and Earl Grey. Mosaic floors lead to a marble reception desk flanked by oil portraits and a fireplace where coals burn, crackling and popping. A sweeping staircase sits proudly beneath a chandelier in the shape of acrown; coffered ceilings float above velvet sofas and little tables set for tea. Silver clinks, voices are soft, and a grandfather clock marks the quarter hour.
My appreciation of the gorgeous hotel evaporates when the receptionist tells us that Killian booked one room—with an attached living room, dining roomandoffice—but only one bed.
I slide Killian a panicked look that he ignores. If word gets out that we’re sharing a hotel room…
Well. It won’t be a hit tohisreputation, but it’ll certainly harmmine.
I force myself to stay silent while we take an elevator up to our floor, and Killian taps his keycard against the room’s scanner. He has twosuitcases waiting for him in the narrow entryway, but my suitcase is nowhere to be seen. I frown, toeing off my shoes.
“Where’s my suitcase?” I ask, stepping out of the entrance and into the lavish living room. My gaze rises towards a chandelier dripping jewels, which casts a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. Napping on the plane was definitely the right move—I’m still sleepy but not completely jetlagged, even though I know that after a 7-hour plane ride, it should be night instead of day.
“In America,” Killian responds, following me into the living room. He leans against the wall, folding his hands into his pockets and giving me a predatory gaze that raises the hairs on the back of my neck…andmakes my clit tingle with excitement.
“W-what do you mean?” I stammer, losing my nerve. I glance down at my traveling clothes; old jeans that are probably a single wash away from falling apart and a long-sleeved sweater. I’m not dressed to go out. “Killian, I need clothes.”
“They’ll arrive by the time we’re done,” Killian says.
My frown deepens. “You said we’ll have things to do from the moment we touch down.”
“And I meant it,” Killian agrees, nodding. “But I didn’t specifywhichtasks will need immediate tending to.” A cruel smile slants his lips. “My mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” I say quietly.
His smile widens. “You’re right,” he agrees, walking forward. For each step he takes, I match him with a step back, until my legs hit something and I go tumbling down. Soft, velvety couch cushions swallow me, and Killian stops a foot away from me. His tall, muscular form towers over me. I shrink back, unnerved.
“Just like me pushing back my meeting for the day to 11pm wasn’t a mistake,” Killian says. He glances out the windows, watching the setting sun. “That gives us plenty of time to get through our agenda.”
I swallow. “What agenda?”
“You’ll see.” He jerks his chin at me. “Go take a shower. I have a call to take, but I’ll join you momentarily.”
He slips away into another room, but his suffocating presence doesn’t dissipate along with him. Being confined in a room with him a few hours at a time is stressful enough, but having to do it for an entire week…
Maybe I can convince him to get us separate rooms at the next hotel.
I trudge my way into the bathroom. Cracked marble greets me on all sides—there’s a two-sink counter withgolden faucets, a shower, and a clawfoot bathtub.
I strip out of my sweaty travel clothes and step under the rainfall spray of the shower, fiddling with the dials until it’s pleasantly hot. I had all of my preferred brands of shower products in my suitcase, but the hotel provides top-of-the-line,designerproducts that I can’t afford.
I’m massaging shampoo into my head when the shower door creaks open, letting in a cool gust of air that raises goosebumps across my flesh. Killian steps in behind me, and I tense. We’ve never showered together before. The most intimate thing we’ve done is post-sex cuddling, when I’m too sore and tired to deny him. Moments I’ll never admit that I crave.
Killian’s hands land on my waist, giving it a squeeze. They lower to cup the globes of my ass, then slither around my body and rise to cup my breasts.
There’s a surety and patience he approaches me with that makes my skin tingle. He’s learned what makes me tick, and even though he’s a cruel lover, nobody can accuse him of being a selfish one. The price of pleasure is pain, but I know that pleasure always follows.
“You have the most stunning body I’ve ever seen,” Killian murmurs, his words getting lost beneath the sounds of the shower. “And your face…” he trails off with a sigh. “Helen of Troy couldn’t match such beauty.”
My throat works around a gravelly swallow. “Nobody knows for sure what Helen of Troy looked like.”
“Doesn’t matter. She couldn’t hold a candle to you.” Killian pinches my nipple, squeezing until a squeal leaves my lips. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, then bats away my hands and starts massaging my scalp. A low moan leaves my lips, and I lean back into his touch.
