I’d only taken a couple of steps toward the door when I found myself spun around. Anger flushed Killian’s face as he gripped my biceps and then forced me back against the wall, a framed photo protesting with a squeak behind me. I gasped, pressing my hands to his chest as he pushed the length of his body into mine.
“You think it’s easy for me,” he said, voice guttural, “that every time you step close to me and I smell you that I don’t have to fight not to get hard remembering how it felt to fuck you the night before?” His lips almost brushed mine and my heart thudded in my chest, heat flushing through me like he’d lit a fire at my feet. “I have to fight the need to touch you every time I’m near you. The only way I know how is to detach myself completely.” He grabbed my hand and slid it down his stomach to the hard-on pushing against his trousers. “Is this what you want? You want me to lose control?”
“Yes,” I hissed, still furious because I’d let Autumn’s worries become my worries and now they were stuck there, eating at my insecurities. I squeezed his dick, making his nostrils flare. “I don’t want your control. Ever.”
He crushed his mouth over mine and I whimpered as his hands became wild things over my body, apparently needing to touch me everywhere. I wrapped my arms around his back and widened my legs so his hot hardness pressed where I wanted it most.
Our kisses were breathless, hungry, and wet, a complete loss of control that I relished as Killian pumped his hips against mine. We panted together as pleasure tingled down my spine from the friction of the seam of my jeans catching my clit.
“Killian,” I gasped, rocking harder against him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing his cheek against mine. “If we don’t stop,” he pushed harder into me and groaned, “I’m going to come in my trousers like a callow bloody youth.”
I wanted that. I turned my face, searching for his lips again.
I was distantly aware of Killian’s office phone ringing as he tugged down the zip on my jeans and pushed them down. His office answering machine clicked on as he unzipped his own jeans and then the sound of an attractive American-accented female voice echoed around the room.
“Killian, it’s Deena. I couldn’t remember your cell but I had your office ext. saved on my phone so I hope you don’t mind me calling you at work. Anyway, you told me if I was ever back in Glasgow to look you up. The label sent me to check out this kid here who’s made a splash on YouTube. I’m staying at the Blythswood again. I’ll be there for four nights. My number here is 07384121560. I had a lot of fun with you in January so . . . I really hope you call.”
We were silent, frozen together, as the phone call acted like blast of ice on the heat between us.
I pushed against his chest to move out from under him, unable to look at him. I seethed with jealousy. I couldn’t remember ever feeling such a choking, burning, ugly sensation over any of the girls Micah had been with. But the thought of Killian going to this Deena person made me want to claw out her eyes.
Killian pressed me harder into the wall and grabbed my wrists to secure them against his chest. I could feel his heart beating hard and a little too fast.
“You know I’m not going to call her,” he said quietly, but with a hard edge to the words.
“I know.” Yet I still couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Look at me.”
“I really need to get back to the studio.”
He made a noise of frustration and let go of my wrists only to grip my chin. My eyes automatically met his and he studied my face, a frown marring his brow.
“What is going on? Why did you barge in here, accusing me of not needing you as much as you need me when I make it perfectly clear how I feel about you when we’re alone? And why the fuck are you pushing me away because of a message left by a woman I have no intention of touching?”
I glowered at him. “You told me you never mix business with pleasure. I thought I was the exception. Turns out I’m not.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I told you I’d never sleep with one of my artists or anyone at my label. Deena is an A&R executive from a label in New York. We met at the beginning of the year going after the same artist. I totally forgot about her until that phone call. End of story.”
“Were you with Yasmin while you were screwing Deena?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Are you deliberately trying to cause a fucking fight?”
I shrugged, feeling reckless and crazy and angry. And I didn’t even really know why!
“No,” he hissed, shoving his face in mine. “I would never do that. I’m not him.”
I sucked in a breath. “We’re not talking about him.”
“I think we are because I have done nothing to deserve your jealousy or insecurities and frankly, it’s pissing me off.” He shoved his hands between our bodies, releasing himself from his trousers with one, while he pushed my underwear and jeans down further with the other. Heat flashed through me—a mixture of indignation and excitement. “I’m not him.” He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, glaring at me like he was frustrated with his desire for me when I was pissing him off this badly.
And suddenly, I felt unbearably sad for us because I’d never truly been a jealous or insecure person until Killian. And the only reason I’d feel that way is if I knew what we had wasn’t going to last.
I slumped against his hold. “I was never like this with him. He never made me feel like this.”
Surprise flared in his eyes for a brief second only to be clobbered by a fierceness I didn’t understand until I felt the hot heat of his dick nudging between my legs.
Lust battled with my unwelcome melancholy. “Killian.”
“I’m yours,” he breathed harshly against my lips. “I’ve never been anyone’s until now. Do you understand?”
I shook my head, not sure it was enough.
And then he thrust inside me, covering my mouth with his to muffle my cry.
He pumped into me, our lips parting as our breaths quickened with desire. “I’m yours,” he reiterated with another thrust. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“Killian . . .” I let my head fall back against the wall, my eyes slamming closed as sensation took over my body. I wanted to forget my fears. I just wanted to feel him inside me because when we were like this, it felt like it was forever.
“Look at me.” He gripped my nape, forcing my head up, and my eyes opened to stare into his. “I’m yours. You’re mine. Say it.”
When I couldn’t bring myself to, he crushed his mouth over mine and fucked me harder, faster. It didn’t take long for the tension inside me to snap and he swallowed my cry of release in his mouth before he broke away to rest his forehead against mine. His hips stilled and then juddered against mine as he came.
Our breaths mingled as we fought to catch them.
“I’m yours. You’re mine. Say it.”
The problem was I wasn’t sure I really believed it now. I believed I was his. But I also believed that he truly belonged to this label more than he’d ever belong to me.
“I’m sorry I got jealous,” I whispered. “This whole thing . . . the album . . . I . . . it’s making me a little emotional and all over the place.”
“Skylar,” his voice was hard as his eyes blazed into mine, “say it. Or I’m going to bend you over my desk and spank your bare arse while I fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked.”
Arousal flushed through me at the thought, fighting with indignation. Part of me would like that to play out. But it would only confuse me further. “Fine, you bastard. I’m yours.”
“And I’m yours.”
I dropped my gaze and he cursed under his breath before cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. It was a deep, drugging kiss, and I felt him pour himself into it until the worries eating at me were forced to the back of my mind. When he released me, his voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you. You have to believe that, Skylar.”
Hearing the sincerity in his voice, I finally relaxed, falling against him to rest my cheek on his chest. I felt his whole body sigh with relief as he held me.
“I’m stubborn,” I whispered.
“I got that.”
“It might take a while for me to hear you sometimes.”
“I got that too.”