KatColton’s gleaming eyes move over me for long moments.
Silence hangs between us like a dangling scythe, ready to fall any moment, ready to slice right into this closeness and sever it completely.
I shift and feel the dampness in my panties, the vestiges of the lust still clinging to me, a flickering flame inside of me that’s ready to burst into a conflagration again at any moment.
Colton stands there with his muscles tense, a note of tension in his jaw, another note of tension in his eyes. Tension, tension everywhere—he’s painted in it, seething, and he reminds me of the Colton I knew yesterday and earlier today, the Colton I mistook for angry.
But maybe he really is angry now.
I’m a twenty year old virgin and perhaps, once upon a time, that wasn’t such a rarity. Perhaps it was sought after, in the days when women wore gowns like curtains and men dressed in tailed suits.
But now, as I wither under his gaze, the word freak sings out cruelly in my mind, a jagged voice, a stabbing taunt, and all I want to do is run away.
“Sir.”
Maxwell’s British butler voice comes from just outside the room.
“I’m busy,” Colton says, never taking his eyes off me.
I want to run my hand through his steel peppered hair, grip onto his head, and see if I can get to his thoughts. The long seconds have stretched my anxiety taut and now I feel ready to snap, ready to run, run and just get the freaking hell out of here.
Street instincts kick in and I scan for an exit, but of course, the only exit is the door and Colton is closer to that than me.
What, you think he’s not going to let you leave? He probably wants to leave after learning what a bedroom amateur you are.
“I am sorry, sir,” Maxwell says. “But it’s Jason Price.”
“Jase?” Colton murmurs. “He called the house phone?”
“Yes, sir. One of your gyms has burned down and he suspects arson.”
“What?” Colton snarls, still with his eyes locked on me. “Fuck, okay. Tell him I’ll be there soon.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, sensing that he’s about to apologize, about to wear the mantle of civility so that he doesn’t have to reveal his true feelings about my revelation. “I can let myself out.”
“No, you can stay,” he says. “The phone call won’t take long.”
“No,” I rebut, pushing some firmness into my voice. “I’d really rather go.”
Let me save us both the effort, I think. Let’s avoid awkwardness and pretend this never happened. I shouldn’t have let it get this far without you knowing the truth anyway.
“In fact, I’d rather pretend that this didn’t happen. I have already started to fall in love with Scrappy and I’d hate to cut our training short.”
“I’m not going to fire you, Kat.”
“Okay, then.”
“Wait here for me,” he says. “We’ll talk about everything. I need to tell you how I feel. I need to tell you that—”
“Sir,” Maxwell says, again.
“Fucking hell,” Colton snaps. “What is it now?”
“Another gym, sir,” Maxwell murmurs through the door.
“Another … Jesus fucking Christ. Kat, please wait here.”
I watch as he goes, my eyes tracking his arms, his shoulders, the steel in his features. Part of me wants to chase after him and demand to know what he thinks about me being a virgin, but another part wants to reverse time and make it so I never told him …
But then that would mean things might’ve gotten hotter, heavier, and then what?
It took a year of night classes and sleeplessness and independent study to begin to come to grips with the art of dog training. Do I really believe I’d turn into a bedroom virtuoso with absolutely no experience?
Colton stops at the door and looks at me again with his tight jaw and his hard eyes, and then he opens it and takes the proffered phone from Maxwell, walking down the hallway with his voice raised.
“Jase, what the fuck is this? Two of our goddamned gyms?”
When I was living on the streets, I’d often get this swirling feeling in my belly, this visceral warning that I had to get the hell out of whatever situation I was in before things turned bad—or worse.
And now I feel that same feeling descending upon me like I’m being submerged in an ether of negativity.
Get. Out. Now.
I stride into the corridor and find myself creeping as best I can, the same way I approach anxious dogs when I don’t want to startle them.
I turn down the double staircase and hear Colton’s voice raised off to the right, toward the direction of the large kitchen and the garden. I turn left and navigate the warren of hallways until I find myself at the front door.
I open it just enough to slide out, and then head for the main gate, which is manned by two security guards, standing stiff-backed with guns on their hips.