Kian, Page 30

  “Package?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes narrowed a tiny bit. “The interview went live, but they’ll use this footage in their own package, too. I’m sure they’ll broadcast it tonight.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. “Okay.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll spin it in a positive way.”

  The two officers were standing next to the door. Wanker was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. All three of them regarded me. There was no Kian, but he was here. He was somewhere. I could feel him.

  I started for the corner, but paused. “Erica?” I looked at her.

  She waved me off. “Go. Be with your man. I’m going to get drunk to celebrate.”

  That was all I needed, and immediately, the warmth of knowing I’d see Kian shortly filled me up. I started walking around the corner.

  “Uh…” Wanker started to say.

  Erica hushed him. She said, “He’s here. She’s looking for him.”

  “Uh…” One second. “Oh!”

  “Miss Emory.” One of the officers cleared his throat. He was behind me, following. “We should get in the car.”

  I didn’t stop. I knew Kian was here.

  “Ma’am?”

  I was almost to the corner. The interview was done. I did what I had to do. It was time to see Kian again. A low buzzing sensation started in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to see him. I couldn’t wait to be in his arms once again.

  “Miss Emory, I’m going to have to insist that we go back to my car.” The officer was beside me now.

  He was moving forward, and I felt him closing in. He was going to try to stop me. At the same time, his hand lifted for his radio. Then I rounded the corner.

  There he was.

  There was no car. Instead, he wore a leather jacket, and he was waiting on a motorcycle. The kickstand was out, his bike resting on it. His face was hidden underneath a helmet, but it was him.

  I started for him, not thinking anymore. I was done thinking.

  “Miss Emory,” the cop started again.

  I went to Kian. As I walked toward him, I felt it in me. I didn’t know when it happened. I didn’t know what would happen in the future, but he was there. A helmet was in his hand and I knew it was for me. I reached for it, starting to pull it on. He stopped me. His hand fell onto mine, and he turned my face up to his. He stared at my eyes and after a moment, a soft grin tugged the corner of his lips up. A look of pride filled his gaze, and it swelled in me too. I really was done hiding.

  His hand fell from mine and as I pulled on the helmet, the cop sighed. “We’re supposed to keep you safe all day today. We’ll follow you then?”

  I swung my leg up and climbed behind Kian. My arms wrapped around him.

  He spoke for me, “We’ll be at my hotel.”

  I stopped listening. He told the cop where we would be. They would come. They’d do their job, be around me so the public couldn’t hurt me. They did it before, and they’d do it again. Until things settled down, they would continue doing so, but I wasn’t considering them anymore. After the interview, saying my side, and having Kian waiting for me, everything would be okay.

  It had to be.

  He had come for me, and when I went to him, I knew right then and there… I was in love with Kian Maston.

  If someone told me three years ago, as I was covered in blood and sitting in the back of an ambulance while watching Edmund’s covered body being wheeled past me on a gurney, that I would be riding on the back of a motorcycle with Kian Maston, I would’ve laughed my ass off. From the hysteria, the absolute perplexity of it, that both of us would be infamous, that we’d be hiding under black motorcycle helmets, and that I would’ve just realized I was in love with him—I would’ve laughed, cried, and punched whoever told me that.

  But here I was.

  Kian’s hand would cover mine whenever we stopped at a stoplight, waiting at an intersection. It was completely ludicrous, what we were both doing, but I didn’t care. If we were together, the media would never stop. If we went our separate ways, maybe we would have a chance for a normal life, but I couldn’t walk away from him. That was all I knew. It’d been this way for a while, ever since he came back into my life. I hadn’t been able to stay away, much less walk away.

  We went back to his hotel. I was tense going in, but no one was there.

  Seeing my look, Kian chuckled. He still held my hand, and he tugged me farther inside. “When I saw the interview, I asked everyone to leave. They went to their own rooms for the night.”

  “The whole night?”

  He nodded. A shadow fell over his face. He asked almost tenderly, “Is that okay?”

  I couldn’t talk. My throat closed up, but I moved my head up and down. It was more than okay.

  Feeling his gaze on me, I felt shy for some reason. My cheeks warmed, and I glanced to the floor, fingering the bottom of my shirt and tugging it down. This was ridiculous. We had sex. I just went on national television and bared my soul, but now, after realizing I was in love with him…

  I eyed the floor beneath my feet. Could it swallow me up? Was it too ludicrous for me to wish for that?

  “Jordan?” Kian moved closer, his voice dipping low.

  I mustered up a smile, looking up. God, he was gorgeous.

  His eyes were intense and focused on me. His lips were pressed together. I remembered how they’d felt and tasted before, how his hands had caressed me and trailed over my body, how his body had felt on top of mine. Every little caress, ministration, kiss, tender touch from him—I was remembering all of it in one overwhelming moment. Had I loved him this whole time? Had I not known it?

  “I did that interview today.”

  “I saw.” His finger touched beside my eye. It was the slightest of touches. “You took your contacts out.”

  “I needed to be all of me. I felt it was the right thing to do.” Even more emotion swept up and lodged in my throat. “I didn’t do it just for me. I did it for you, too.”

  His voice dipped even lower, so soft. “How so?”

  “People think I seduced you. That’s always bothered me. It wasn’t just that they blamed me. It was that they were putting the wrong spin on it. You didn’t go in my house because you were mindless or brainwashed, like you were under my spell or something. That’s beneath what you did. You went in and saved me. That was it. There was nothing else to it.”

  “Jordan.” His hand lifted back to me, but he held it still.

  I sucked in my breath, knowing he was going to touch me. I was ready for it. I almost closed my eyes, waiting to relish the feel of his hand on me again, but he pulled back at the last second. I looked up to find him staring at me with a wondering look on his face.

  “What?” Had I said something wrong?

  His head gave the slightest shake, but he still moved back another step. “Nothing. I…my parents hate what I did. My sister, too. Justin raped her, but when she heard what I did and the real reason behind it, she was angry. How could I save you and not her? She’s been resentful ever since, but just now, hearing you…thank you.”

  “What for?” My lips parted from confusion.

  “I’m not the hero.”

  “You saved me.”

  His head clipped from side to side. He didn’t move, but I felt him retreating even further. “I’m the bad guy. Don’t you get it?”

  “What kind of bad guy saves people?”

  “The kind like me. I didn’t do it out of the goodness in my heart.” A stricken look passed in his eyes. “I didn’t give a shit about anyone until you came to school. I didn’t care about any girl, any friend, or even my own family members.

  “People hurt people. That was my motto. Everyone and anyone deserved what was coming to them, but you came to school, and all of that went away for me. You were good. You are good. It would’ve been the worst goddamn thing to happen. You matter. Your life. Your soul. Your heart. Everything about you matters: the breath you breathe, the tears
you cry, the smiles you give, the sound of your laughter, how your mind thinks, the values you hold dear.” He was fierce. “They don’t matter, Justin and Edmund. You gave. They took. They hurt. You heal. You are worth both of them, a thousand times over. You, Jordan. You are worthier than anyone I know, including me. You are pure. You don’t use people. You don’t have hidden agendas. You don’t misuse your friendships. That’s all I saw while growing up, until you. What you say, you mean. There is nothing hidden with you. You are good.”

  I frowned, gazing up at him.

  “Edmund was evil, but I’m still a bad guy. I just hurt someone who was worse than me. That’s all I did that day. I can’t let you turn me into some hero that I’m not.”

  “Stop.” My head was buzzing. “So what if you’ve done bad things? So what if you were a shitty person at some point in your life? That doesn’t define you. You did a good thing. Saving my life, that was good. Don’t twist that. Please.” My chest was aching. “If you say that wasn’t a good thing, then what am I? If you cheapen what you did, you cheapen me. Don’t you see that?”

  His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyebrows furrowed together.

  I was good.

  Saving me was good.

  Therefore, that made him good.

  It was so simple in my mind. I didn’t want that taken away from him or me.

  I choked out, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier about the interview. It happened so fast. I just wanted a chance at a normal life.”

  “My publicist told me.” Some of the intensity lessened a bit, and he gave me a rueful grin, raking his hand through his hair. “She thought you were going to throw me under the bus.”

  “What?” I started to shake my head. Never.

  He nodded, stopping me. “I know, and it was a good move. You needed your message to be out there. I get it. But when they find out that we’re together…” he started, holding off.

  My stomach churned. I knew what he was saying. “I’ve worried about the same thing.”

  “What then?”

  “What we are isn’t—” But I was wrong. It was their business. I’d just gone on national television and projected how it was. We were no longer just the two of us. “Maybe we could—”

  “You told your story,” he said.

  I held his gaze, frowning slightly.

  He added, inclining his head toward me, “Maybe we could tell our story now?” He gestured from me to him. “That is, if we have one?”

  My tongue was heavy, lying on the bottom of my mouth. Oh, yes, we had a story. It was one that I couldn’t quit reading, no matter how hard I tried.

  “Tell people that we’re—” I stopped.

  This was it. This was the talk.

  My cheeks were hot now, but I had to say it, “That we’re together?” I wanted to avert my eyes, but I didn’t. I held fast and watched him back.

  He nodded, his rueful grin slipping to something intimate, one that started an excited flutter in my stomach. “We are, if you want us to be?”

  “I do,” I blurted out.

  “Good.” His shoulders lifted, as if a weight had disappeared. “I want that, too.”

  “You do?”

  He moved toward me, and his hand touched the side of my face. He tilted my head back, his eyes so tender. “Being with you last night was the best night I had ever had.”

  “Really?”

  He leaned down, so his forehead was resting on mine. He gently moved his head up and down, rocking me with him. “Yes. And it meant more than you could ever imagine.” His hand dropped and rested over my heart. “I don’t know when it happened, but I fell for you.”

  My heart clenched.

  He said, “I was angry that day because Justin wanted you back, but I wanted a chance with you. I didn’t want him to take it from me. I saw Edmund hurting you then, and I blacked out.”

  I reached up and grabbed his hand, my fingers curling around it. “You testified in court—”

  “I know.” His forehead was heavily resting on mine. “I told the court exactly what happened. I saw you, went in there, and all I thought about was saving your life. That’s what I said, and to an extent, that’s what I remember. I didn’t testify that I wanted to kill him. When I kicked open the door and saw his knife on your throat, I knew I would use it against him.” His eyes held mine. “He was going to take your life, so I took his instead. I’m still a murderer. You can’t pretty that up.”

  I shook my head, my hands cupping his face, and I raised my lips to his. “Shut up.” I touched his mouth, and I closed my eyes. I was going to show him how good of a person he was.

  As he slid inside me for the second time that night, my hips moved down on him, and I held still. I saw the lust darkening his eyes before his gaze skimmed down my body, lingering on my breasts. His hands went to my hips, and I began to move, up and down. I started the pace, and I kept it.

  This was what I wanted. How fast, how hard, how deep—it was all me.

  Kian moved with me, sitting up to kiss my shoulder and trailing his mouth up to my throat. His other hand left my hip to cup the back of my head. He tipped my head down, and his lips were there. He was waiting for me.

  His mouth moved over mine as I kept rolling my hips forward, backward, and forward again. My mouth opened, and he slipped inside, sweeping around my tongue. He was starving for me. A rush went through me, hardening my nipples.

  I would never get enough of him.

  That night, both times and a third time later in the morning hours, that time was our sanctuary. We created our own universe, and no one could intrude.

  When I awoke again, I lay still. The early morning was creeping toward us from underneath the curtains. I glanced at the clock and saw it was around six.

  Thud!

  Hearing that, I sat up. My heart pounded a little bit harder, and I frowned, hearing a second thud. That was what had woken me up. Someone was inside Kian’s suite.

  Slipping out of his arms, I grabbed one of the robes. I pulled it on, but a flash caught my eye from the nightstand. His phone had a message. I touched the screen just to see if it was someone important. If it were, I’d wake him up, but I couldn’t see whom it was from, so I left it alone. It wasn’t my business.

  Hearing a third thud, I turned toward whomever or whatever it was and snuck from the bedroom. The intruder was trying to be quiet. A feminine curse sounded next.

  I was forcing myself to keep calm. Kian had an entire team of lawyers and publicists. It could be any of them, and a voice in the back of my mind told me to wake him up, let him deal with this person. My feet weren’t listening. They kept moving across the plush carpet, barefoot and padding silently down the hallway. I approached until I was against the wall that separated myself from the kitchen, where the person was.

  I held back for a second.

  “Shit. Mother of—” She hushed herself, groaning out loud. “Seriously, the least he could do is have a good rose or even a merlot.”

  My eyebrows pinched together. She was looking for alcohol?

  “Fuck it.” She kept grumbling, “I’m ordering. Thank you, little brother, for your American Express.”

  My eyes got big. I sucked in my breath. This was Felicia Maston.

  Memories from her during the trial flashed through my mind. She was gorgeous. I remembered that from Fosston. Two years older than Kian, she looked similar with sleek dark hair. Her eyes were blue, and she had modeled briefly. She suddenly stopped modeling one day, but after hearing Kian’s explanation about Justin, I wondered if my ex had been the reason for her career’s demise. Had he broken her?

  Realizing that I was about to come face-to-face with Kian’s