“You’re all set,” Mitch announces. “Just show your ID if there’s someone here other than me.”
“Thank you, Mitch,” I say, and when Kace slides an arm around me, setting us in motion toward the elevator, all my unease slides away.
Once we’re at the elevator banks it’s not long before we’re alone inside, on our way to his floor. Kace leans on the wall and folds me close, our legs pressed intimately together, and when I meet his stare there’s a charge between us that steals my breath—but there is also a world of unspoken words between us.
The car halts, and he’s holding my hand now, leading me toward his apartment, his private fortress, his kingdom, and he’s sent me a strong message tonight. I’m no longer an outsider.
As if driving home that point, we arrive at his door and he places me in front of him beside the security panel, leaning in to kiss my neck, before he whispers the code into my ear. It’s as good as being offered a key. “Punch it in, baby, so I know you remember it.”
He’s daring me into his world, asking me to step wider, longer, further. All things I would never have done in the past. All things no other man could tempt me to do. And yet he does. And I answer.
I punch in the code and when the panel beeps its approval Kace opens the door to allow my entry. With a rush of adrenaline and nerves, I step forward, aware of him behind me. I shrug out of my coat, hanging it and my purse on a coatrack, my actions meant to reinforce a message I believe I’ve already delivered: I’m here. I’m staying. Nothing that happened with the press or Alexander, or anyone else for that matter, has changed that. The door shuts and I turn to find Kace watching me, removing his jacket, and his eyes have darkened with something akin to a predatory gleam. My body responds, tingling with awareness while my mouth goes dry with the stretch of his T-shirt across his broad chest. Once his jacket is on the coatrack, we end up standing there, staring at each other. Almost as if all those unspoken words are too complicated but the pull between us is not.
There is a current in the air, crackling all around us, to the point that there must be sparks. My God, I can feel this man in every part of my body when he has not even touched me yet. My experience is limited, it’s true, but no man ever came close to affecting me the way Kace does.
He moves first, one long stride, and I swear my sex clenches. That’s the power of this man. I blink and I’m against the wall, his powerful legs shackling mine, his hand sliding into my hair, tilting my eyes to his. “We are not over. The damn paparazzi does not end us. You will not walk away over this.”
“I don’t want to walk away,” I say, my fingers tangling in the hem of his T-shirt.
“You don’t want to, or you aren’t going to?”
“What I want is not always what I get.”
“You are exactly where you belong. Say it.”
“I’m a Stradivari and with that comes risks.”
“Say it, Aria. You belong here.”
“I’m where I want to be.”
“Damn it, woman,” he murmurs, his mouth crashing down over mine, his tongue a wicked slice of demand, his hand on my back, molding me closer. And just that easily, I am lost in the ache of my burn for this man. He believes he can protect me, but I remind myself that I must protect him. He says he won’t lie to me, but he admits he has secrets. I’m conflicted with Kace over my anger, but unsure how to move forward, but oh so certain that I am a whisper from drowning in my need for him.
His hand slides over my backside, and he scoops me into him, the hard line of his body absorbing mine, the harder ridge of his erection pressed to my belly. And then, unbidden the image of that man in the pharmacy drags me back to hell and I shove on Kace’s chest. “Kace, what if—”
“What if what, baby?”
His breathing is ragged, his breath a velvety promise of another kiss. “Something goes wrong?”
“What if everything goes right?”
“That’s not who we are.”
His hand caresses a path down my arm, a gentle tease of a touch that sends a shiver through my body until his hand covers my injured hand. “How’s your hand?”
“Better. Why?”
“Just making sure I don’t hurt you, baby, because it’s time to be here, and present.” He catches the hem of my blouse and drags it over my head, tossing it away. “And I plan to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”