Chapter 26

Kayla

“Why can’t you stay in your own room?” Nicholas growled, his amber eyes burning as he pinned me to the mattress. The tin of lip balm I’d been holding went rolling across the bed, and he glanced at it with a huff.

His body was tense, solid, and far too warm for my liking—or maybe too warm for my sanity. I squirmed beneath him, trying to force my brain to cooperate while his weight pressed down against me, making it hard to breathe. Dammit, I couldn’t even think straight with him on top of me.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Not at all. I was just coming in to give him some balm for his cut lip, and when I found him asleep, I was trying to be nice and put it on for him. I should have just left the balm on his nightstand and left.

Or, better yet, I never should have come here to begin with.

“I—” My voice cracked, and I scowled at myself before trying again. “I felt bad, alright? I hurt you last night, so I thought I would… I don’t know, try to fix it. You didn’t exactly deserve my help, but—”

“Didn’t deserve it?” His lips curled into a slow, teasing smirk.

Goddess, that infuriating smirk. My blood heated instantly, and not in a good way.

“I seem to remember you being the one who scratched me last night, little kitty,” he murmured. “I didn’t deserve that either, but here we are.”

I groaned, struggling to push at his chest, but he didn’t budge an inch. “You scared the crap out of me, Nicholas. Sneaking up behind me like a damn ghost. If anything, you should be the one apologizing to me.”

“Oh, of course,” he said dryly. “How could I forget? I’m always the villain.”

“You said it, not me,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes. I wanted to mention how utterly villainous he looked when he was interrogating that woman yesterday, but now wasn’t exactly the time.

His smirk deepened as if my words did nothing but amuse him. “So, you broke into my room in the wee hours of the morning—”

“I didn’t break in—”

“—to put balm on my lip while I was sleeping?” He shook his head. “How very thoughtful of you.”

I glared up at him, my cheeks blazing. “Yes. Thoughtful. A word you should probably look up sometime, Nicholas.”

“Thoughtful,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower as his gaze slid over my face, lingering on my lips. His fingers tightened briefly around my wrists, pinning them against the bed. “You know, if you wanted to climb into my bed so badly, you could have just asked.”

My eyes widened. “I didn’t want to climb into your bed, you insufferable fucking—”

He silenced me with a shift of his weight, leaning closer until his breath ghosted across my cheek. The warmth of it sent a shiver down my spine, even as I fought against the strange pull that seemed to radiate from him. I had to turn my head away just to avoid looking at him.

“Sure you didn’t,” he murmured, his tone mocking but edged with something darker, something headier.

His free hand moved then, tracing a slow, deliberate path down my arm before sliding to my hip. His touch burned through the thin fabric of my shirt, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from gasping.

“Nicholas,” I warned, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

His hand ignored the command entirely, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt to press against my bare skin. His fingers were warm, rough, and infuriatingly confident as they brushed upward, tracing the subtle curve of my waist.

“You don’t need to make up excuses to crawl into bed with me, Kayla,” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Just say the word, and I’ll make you feel better than any man has ever made you feel.”

I clenched my teeth, every muscle in my body screaming at me to move, to do something—anything—to stop him. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. His voice, his touch, the heat of his body—it all blurred together, fogging my mind and making my pulse hammer in a way that was both terrifying and… intoxicating.

“I hate you,” I managed to hiss, but the words sounded weak even to my own ears.

His chuckle was low, dark, and maddeningly pleased. “Hate me all you want. Maybe a little hatred will just spice things up,” he said, his fingers sliding higher, his palm brushing over my ribs. “We never got to finish what we started at the hotel, you know.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, dousing the haze that had clouded over my mind. The hotel. My wedding day. The disaster that had led me here, to this sham of a marriage and the chaos that followed.

I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t allow myself to be humiliated like this, which was exactly what he wanted.

With a sudden burst of clarity, I shoved as hard as I could against his chest, catching him off guard. He let go of my wrists just enough for me to slip out from under him, scrambling off the bed and putting as much distance between us as the room allowed.

“Damn playboy,” I spat, my voice shaking with anger—and maybe a little something else I refused to acknowledge. I grabbed the tin of balm from the nightstand and threw it at him. It hit his chest with a satisfying thud. “I was just trying to be nice. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He caught the tin before it could roll away, sitting up with a lazy, unbothered grin that made my blood boil. His hair was tousled handsomely and his broad, muscular chest was bare, and I quickly turned away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me blush at the sight.

Without another word, I stormed out of the room, making a point to slam the door behind me. My heart was still racing as I made my way back to my room, and I could feel the heat in my cheeks even as I flopped onto the bed and buried my face in the pillows.

Why did he have to be so… infuriating? And why, despite everything, did my stupid body have to react to him like that?

The questions swirled in my mind long after I finally got ready for the day, and they were still there when I dragged myself to the dining room for breakfast a little while later.

I kept my head down, poking at my food. Blissfully, the dining room was quiet, and the cook had prepared a delicious spread of avocado toast, eggs, and coffee for me. But I didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Kayla.”

I looked up just in time to see something roll across the table toward me. The tin of balm. I snatched it up, narrowing my eyes as I glanced up at Nicholas, who was standing on the other side of the table with his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks for that,” he said, his tone surprisingly neutral.

I stared at him, caught off guard by the unexpected gratitude—and the change in demeanor. “Don’t mention it,” I muttered, dropping the tin into my lap and focusing on my plate again.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he stepped closer, pulling his hands free from his pockets and holding one out to me.

I frowned, glancing from his hand to his face. “What do you want?”

“Let’s go on a walk,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “The happy couple has to be seen in public, after all.”