Chapter 7
Kaelyn's heels clicked furiously on the marble floor of the business school's main hall. Anger was a hot fuel, making her ignore the ache in her ankles.
Behind her, she heard the heavy, purposeful sound of expensive leather shoes hitting the floor, closing the distance at an alarming rate.
She knew who it was. She didn't slow down. She walked faster, aiming for the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.
Her finger was inches from the call button when a large, powerful hand slammed into the wall beside her head, blocking her path.
Clemente's body boxed her in, his shadow falling over her. He smelled of cedarwood and cold rage.
"Don't you walk away from me," he growled, his voice low and menacing.
"Get out of my way, Clemente," she hissed, keeping her own voice down. "There are cameras everywhere."
A humorless smirk twisted his lips. He grabbed her by the arm, his grip like steel, and dragged her toward the heavy, unmarked door of the fire stairwell.
"Let go of me!" she struggled, her shoes skidding on the polished floor, but it was useless. He was too strong.
The heavy door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into the dim, concrete-scented quiet of the stairwell. The noise of the busy hallway vanished.
He shoved her back against the cold, rough wall, his hands planting on either side of her head. He was a cage, and she was trapped.
A pained grunt escaped her as her back hit the concrete. "You're a psycho," she gasped, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and fear.
His chest was heaving. "Am I?" he snarled, his face close to hers. "You're the one who's been ignoring me for three days. Are you done with your little tantrum?"
The injustice of his accusation made her laugh, a sharp, broken sound. "My tantrum? You're the one who has the nerve to be angry? You left me in your apartment to run to her. You lied to my face!"
She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Tell me, was the suit jacket warm enough for her? Did she enjoy being chauffeured around at dawn after you spent the night comforting her?"
His face hardened at the mention of Hilda. A flash of pure exhaustion crossed his features. "It was an emergency. She wasn't well."
"An emergency that required you to lie about a meeting with lawyers?" she shot back, her voice rising. "An emergency that looked an awful lot like a romantic morning after?"
He was cornered, and he knew it. He couldn't tell her the truth, the whole ugly story. So he fell back on the only defense he had. "You're being unreasonable, Kaelyn."
That word again. Unreasonable.
It snapped the last thread of her control. She swung her hand, aiming to leave the imprint of her palm on his arrogant face.
He was faster. He caught her wrist in mid-air, his reflexes like lightning. He twisted her arm, easily overpowering her, and pinned both of her hands above her head against the wall.
They were chest to chest, their breathing harsh and ragged in the enclosed space. The air was electric, thick with a dangerous, volatile energy.
He stared down at her, at her defiant, tear-filled eyes, at her mouth, painted a defiant red. And his sanity snapped.
Without warning, he crashed his mouth down on hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a punishment. It was a desperate, angry claiming. She whimpered and twisted her head, trying to escape, but he held her fast. In a surge of defiance, she bit down hard on his lower lip.
She tasted blood, coppery and sharp.
It didn't stop him. It spurred him on. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and the kiss deepened, becoming something wilder, more savage. His free hand moved to the back of her head, holding her still, forcing her to take all of his frustration, his anger, his fear.
And in the middle of the violent assault, a humiliating truth surfaced. Her body was betraying her. A treacherous heat spread through her veins. Her knees went weak, and she found herself clinging to him just to stay upright.
Slowly, the anger in the kiss began to fade, replaced by something else. Desperation. A raw, pleading hunger. It was no longer a punishment, but a frantic confirmation that she was still there, still his.
A single tear escaped the corner of her eye and traced a hot path down her temple, landing on the back of his hand.
The drop of moisture was like an electric shock. He froze.
He pulled back slowly, his breathing ragged. He looked at her swollen, bruised lips, at the tear track on her skin. For the first time, a flicker of panic, of genuine regret, showed in his eyes.
He leaned his forehead against hers, their skin slick with sweat. His voice was a raw, broken whisper.
"Don't leave me, Kae."
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