35. Lorelei

35

LORELEI

M y fingers curl around the edge of the basin as nothing but pure exhaustion seeps through my veins.

Tonight has been…

Tonight has been too much.

The gala alone was too much to process, let alone adding Kian's proposal and getting trapped in the elevator. The last thing I needed was that kiss.

Fuck. That kiss.

My head drops lower as heat rushes through my veins.

If we weren't interrupted…

I want to say that I'd have ended it and backed away. But I'd only be lying to myself.

I wasn't about to put an end to anything; I was balancing right on the edge of doing a very, very bad thing.

"Get it together, Lorelei."

Finally, I lift my head and face the truth.

It is not pretty.

My hair is a mess, and my makeup is ruined. It's smeared around my puffy eyes and streaked down my cheeks.

Why he wanted to kiss me is beyond me. I'm not sure I've looked more like a hot mess in my life.

Lifting my hand to my mouth, I press my fingertips against my lips as softly as his lips did.

My stomach flutters as I recall that very brief moment.

I kissed Kian Callahan.

No, I didn't just kiss Kian Callahan. I kissed my boss.

The man who proposed only hours ago that we should start up a fake relationship to get rid of my stage-five clinger ex.

Christ, this is a mess.

And it only gets worse when I look down at my dress.

My beautiful, ridiculously expensive dress with a massive, ugly rip up the front.

Dropping my hand to the ruined fabric, I fight the lump that crawls up my throat.

Needing to get out of the dress and wash every inch of tonight from my body, I drag the zipper down and let the heavy fabric pool on the floor around my feet.

I push my thong from my hips and leave that on top of the pile as I move toward the shower. After placing my shower cap on my messy updo, I step under the hot water.

I wish I could say that the lingering fear of being stuck in that elevator swirls down the drain, but it's not the case. While I was in Kian's arms, it was easy to push it aside.

But now I'm alone again…

At least the lights have come back on.

Grabbing my sponge, I load it up with as much of my favorite shower gel as it'll take, and then I scrub every single inch of my skin until I'm red and sore. If I wash hard enough, it'll erase my past, my memories and nightmares from my body, right?

Sadly, just like all the other times in my life I've begged for relief, it never comes, and as the water runs cold and I finally step out of the shower, the feelings still linger.

I do the best I can to remember the mess on my face, but I'm losing the fight with my exhaustion, and before I've done a proper job, I'm stumbling into my bedroom to find some pajamas.

The hot chocolate Jamie so thoughtfully made for me sits on my dresser, and seeing as it's in a thermal cup, I grab it before I crawl into bed.

It's no longer hot, but it's not cold either.

I drink it absently, letting the sweetness soothe me in the way that only chocolate can before I sink between the sheets and will sleep to come.

Everything will feel easier in the morning. I'll be able to process my thoughts better in the bright light of day.

M y eyes are sore when I open them the next morning, reminding me with agonizing clarity that I cried on Kian's shoulder after freaking the fuck out in that elevator.

I should have been stronger.

Maybe if he hadn't ripped the ground from beneath me with that stupid proposal to be his fake girlfriend, then I might have managed to work my way through it without falling back into old habits.

With a groan of irritation that he's taking up headspace before I've even rolled out of bed, I throw my legs over the edge and pad through to my bathroom to freshen up. What I really need is coffee, but that's going to have to wait.

I throw a zip-up hoodie around my body and finally emerge from my bedroom. The second I step into the hallway, I suck in a deep breath that I pray isn't going to contain the scent of him like I'm sure I can still smell in my bedroom. But I quickly discover it isn't the case.

He may have only been here for a few minutes, but it seems his presence in my life is determined to remain at the forefront of my mind.

Maybe you do get what you pay for when it comes to cologne…

I frown as I step into my living area. The curtains are shut.

I didn't come in here last night, and I know I didn't close them before Kian picked me up for the gala. I hardly ever close them. Not since Tate left. Having them open and being able to see other people living their lives inside their own apartments on the other side of the road makes me feel a little less lonely.

On edge, my next steps come slower, but the second I turn toward the couch, I understand exactly why the room is in darkness despite the fact the sun is up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I shriek, finding a man stretched out, fast asleep on my couch.

A decent person would probably leave them to sleep. But fuck that.

Why is he still here?

I told him to leave.

I thought he had left. I heard the front door close behind his irritating ass.

"Shit," Kian croaks, lifting his hands to rub his eyes.

"Yeah, fucking shit," I mutter, marching toward the windows and throwing the curtains open, flooding the room with light.

The rain pounding against the windows makes my heart sink, but I don't have time to mourn the loss of the morning run I was yearning for.

"Fucking hell, woman," he grunts.

By the time I spin around, he's pushed himself up so he's sitting, letting the blanket—my blanket—that he was using to cover him slip down to his waist, revealing his naked torso.

Fuck my life.

As much as I fight to keep my eyes on his face, I fail badly.

And holy cow am I glad I do because my boss is fine.

I already knew he was cut. It's obvious even when he's clothed. But Christ, my imagination failed me with this one.

He clears his throat, forcing my eyes back up to his before throwing the blanket off and pushing to his feet.

An alarm instantly begins ringing in my head.

He is wearing gray joggers.

Gray joggers.

Lifting my eyes to the ceiling for a beat, I pray for strength.

He is not playing fair here.

Sculpted chest. Defined abs. That perfect fucking V that sinks to…

Oh my god, he's hard.

"You should be in your own apartment right now," I say firmly, spinning on the balls of my feet and striding toward the kitchen.

I already needed coffee. Now, I need it possibly more than I ever have in my life.

"I needed to know that you were okay."

I suck in a sharp breath at the concern I hear in his voice.

"Why?" I burst, spinning back around to glare at him

Damn it. It's easier to be annoyed when I can't see his hot body and pretty face.

Ugh. He is the most infuriating man on the planet.

"Why do you care? You don't about anyone else."

"Everyone else isn't you."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Our eye contact holds as the air crackles between us.

"Excuse me, I need the bathroom," he says before turning his back on me—his stupidly muscular back—and disappearing into the hallway.

"Oh my god," I breathe, dropping my face into my hands.

"I'll take mine black and strong."

"And in a takeout cup," I mutter.

When he returns, I'm sitting at the island with a mug in my hands, my eyes locked on the liquid gold inside.

He moves around me, I assume scanning the counter for his coffee, but he will soon be disappointed.

"Where's mine?"

"At the coffee shop you'll stop at on your way home. Get dressed, Kian. It's time to leave."

He stops beside me and crosses his thick arms over his chest.

That V and the marginally smaller bulge in his sweats call to me, but I manage to resist.

"Are you usually this rude to your guests?" he asks.

"My guests are usually invited to stay," I counter.

He moves, walking around behind me, making my entire body tingle with the need to turn and watch him.

Only a few seconds later, I discover that I don't need to move a muscle, because he appears before me and sets about making his own coffee.

"I thought you knew, Temptress. I'm not the kind of man who waits for an invitation."

The coffee machine starts up and he spins around, resting his ass against my counter, his heated stare burning the top of my head, demanding that I look up and meet his eyes.

I hold still for a few more moments, not wanting him to think that he can order me around in my own home like he does the office, but eventually, my need to look into his eyes gets the better of me.

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips in accomplishment, and I internally groan.

"Did you still fancy a trip to Paris?"

"You're annoying."

"And you're grumpy in the mornings," he counters.

I glower at him but say nothing as he picks up his steaming coffee and pulls out the stool beside me.

He clears his throat, and the air instantly shifts around us. Sure, it's still buzzing with desire, but there's something more serious there too.

"I'm worried about you," he says quietly. "Did you want to talk about last night?" he offers like he does genuinely care.

"Which part, exactly?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee in the hope it drowns out some of my sass and bitterness.

"Well, any part, I guess."

"The part where you accidentally asked me to be your fake girlfriend?"

"That was no accident," he says firmly, squashing any doubt I'd woken up with about the whole situation. "The elevator?" he hedges. "Did you want to?—"

"No," I snap. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Then how about the ki?—"

"Don't," I bark, jumping to my feet and backing away from him.

"Lorelei," he warns.

"There is nothing to talk about. Thank you for sticking around long enough to rescue me last night, I really appreciate it. But there is nothing more that needs to be said about the matter."

"Nothing?" he asks, his brow quirking in amusement.

"Nothing. Now, if you could get dressed and leave…I've got things to do."

"Things?" he enquires.

"I want to go for a run, and I…I'm not justifying myself to you. Please, just go."

Spinning on the stool, he looks toward the window and then back to me.

"A run? In that weather?"

"It's just rain. It won't kill me."

His smirk returns.

"I've got a better idea. Go and get dressed for your run."

"Oh no. I'm not."

He steps closer, eradicating the space between us.

"Whose hoodie is this, Lorelei?" he asks, running his finger down the zipper. His fingertip hovers just above my breast as he does, and damn if my nipple doesn't pucker with the promise of his touch.

"No one's," I breathe, hating how desperate I sound.

"It's his, isn't it?"

I clench my teeth, not wanting to go down this road.

But before I can force a lie past my lips, he grabs the fabric roughly in his hand and drags the zipper down. I don't register what's happening, and he's ripped the hoodie from my body and thrown it to the floor before my brain catches up.

"He's gone, Lorelei. It's over. Get him out of your life in every single way."

His green eyes blaze with fire as he silently dares me to defy him.

"Okay," I whisper. Honestly, I wasn't keeping it for sentimental reasons. It's soft and…yeah, okay. When he first left, it smelled like him, too, and I liked it.

But now…now things are very different.

"Go and get ready for your run. Then we're going to see if we can leave those demons of yours in our dust."

He spins me around and gently pushes me toward the door.

I glance back over my shoulder just in time to see him pull his cell from his pocket and focus on the screen.

Grabbing my purse from the hallway from the night before, I take out my own cell and put it on charge as I do as I'm told.

By the time I'm dressed, it's powered up and showing me a whole host of notifications. But it's the top one that really catches my attention.

A whole-staff email from none other than Kian Callahan.

Subject: URGENT - GYM CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE

"Motherfucker."

His knock on my bedroom door makes me jump a mile, and I drop my cell on the bed.

"Ready?" he asks before poking his head inside and letting his eyes drop down my body. I might be wearing leggings and a sports bra, but they're skin-tight and leave very little to the imagination.

My blood boils, my core clenching with excitement.

No. I'm most definitely not ready.