Masked Read online

  “Kil!” I couldn’t help laughing. The alternative reaction wasn’t pretty. “I swear, you’re going to drive me to drink.”

  “Fairy.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be mad about the housekeeper.”

  “I’m not. Anymore.”

  “You deserve to be taken care of.”

  “I’m over it, okay?” I sighed, my own version of a not-apology. “You’re actually very sweet, Mr. Stone—if overbearing and presumptuous.”

  He cleared his throat with purpose, making my pulse race—and the rest of my body prepare for the tone that came next. Silken seduction. “You fell in love with me this way.”

  “And I still love you.”

  “That’s damn good.” He let a long beat stretch by. Another. “Because there’s a little more coming.”

  I could hear him breathing in measured lengths, likely bracing for my tirade. Just listening to the sound made me take pause, halting everything—yes, even the rant.

  A wince grabbed my face. What was my problem? The man adored me. He was doing his best to spoil me, and I was acting like an ungrateful shrew, all because of my unfounded fears about the what-ifs. I needed to live more in the moment.

  I needed to be a better girlfriend.

  “Th-There’s more?” I finally croaked.

  As he laughed into the phone, I pictured him running his fingers through his gorgeous dark hair, which was probably a little too long at the moment. Translation—completely perfect. “Hold on,” he finally stammered back. “Are you really not going to yell?”

  “I guess not. Do you want me to?”

  “No!” He chuckled again. “That’s completely fine. Shit, San Diego. You certainly keep me on my toes.”

  And what amazing toes he had. Yes, I’d treated myself to a full inspection one night at his place while we’d binged on Shark Tank and Chinese takeout. Conclusion—God had even crafted the man’s feet to perfection.

  “Soooo,” I prompted, “back to my ‘more.’”

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t make me pop up into your play and then refuse to catch the ball, mister.” I huffed. “Come on. Tell me what it is.”

  “Nope. I want to surprise you when you get here next weekend. Can you wait that long?”

  “Probably not.” Good girlfriend, remember? “But I will. I know you’ll make it worth it.”

  One of his pleasure-filled growls resonated over the line. “You’re sexy when you’re amenable.” He continued the sound, keeping me baited. “So be even more so and let me send the jet for you this time.”

  I huffed again, but there was a real smile behind it. Gee, my fabulously gorgeous boyfriend wanted to send his private jet to pick me up and then fly me to him for a weekend in his gazillion-dollar penthouse on the Lake Michigan shore. I think I could be okay with that.

  But just this once.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone. I would love that.” A silence went by. Not one of our comfortable pauses either. “And Kil…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need to…apologize to you. About earlier.”

  This shit never came easy for me, and the man knew it. His voice became softened with understanding. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I let my I-am-woman-hear-me-roar run a little too wild over the tundra. The housekeeper is great, and I was ungrateful. I hope I can make it up to you?”

  I tried to finish off with playful and sexy, hoping he caught on to my hint. Who was I kidding? The man made innuendoes off my boring media spreadsheets.

  “Hmmm. Maybe a little more begging is in order—on your knees in particular, in something small, black, and scandalous. Maybe you can…coax out my forgiveness.”

  Hell. He’d gone from sultry to throaty, melting my panties by corresponding degrees right here on the beach. What his words alone were capable of doing to me… Yeah, I had every right to be scared. If he truly knew what kind of putty I became in his thrall…

  God, I was in such danger. And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to be safe again.

  “So, tell me where you are.” He purposely jumped onto a more innocent track. “What beach did you head to?”

  “Torrey Pines,” I supplied. “I usually don’t come here since it’s a little farther from home, but since Christina is taking care of the chores, I had some extra time.” I paused, sensing him smiling through the phone line. He warmed my skin more than the sun itself. “I wish you were with me, though. You could rub lotion on my hard-to-reach spots.”

  His groan was low and telling. “Oh, I know all about your little…hard spots.”

  So much for innocent. I was certain the man had secretly taken euphemism courses at MIT. I was about to laugh off his tease but realized I didn’t want to. Today’s events—facing the paparazzi, our tiff on the phone, doubting my capability to be the compliant partner he needed—made the distance between us feel like galaxies instead of miles.

  And the shadow that fell across every star in those galaxies? The secrets he was still keeping from me. The double meanings in conversations I would sometimes overhear. The distance that sneaked into his eyes when he spoke about himself sometimes, as if looking at in from an outsider’s viewpoint…

  How could I feel so close to him yet so far?

  I fell back on the easy stuff. The lust. After covering my legs with a towel, I pushed them together and then slid one foot up the opposite leg. The friction on every tissue between my legs was enticing, exquisite…

  And just like him.

  A dark, unattainable pleasure.

  “Claire?”

  “Yes,” I rasped. “I’m here. Sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. Oh, hell. Maybe I really wasn’t cut out for this role…this being Killian Stone’s damn girlfriend. I second-guessed every other thought in my head and comment from my mouth because when I didn’t, I flew off the handle and pushed all his buttons anyway. He said he loved me this way. Even called me adorable and exciting and claimed he liked living life on his toes. I loved him more for it but wondered if the toe talk came from how far in the deep end we both were with this thing. And what would happen if we both drowned. And if I needed to check for a life preserver before it was too late.

  “Well, that’s bullshit if I heard any,” he muttered.

  “I just miss you.” My voice was sloppy and thick with emotion. “I know it’s only been six days. I’m just…sad.” And lonely. And pathetic. Was being in love supposed to make you sound so morose?

  “Only six days?” He repeated it like I’d told him the earth was really a square. “You mean the one hundred and forty-four hours of sheer hell we’ve just endured? Because I wasn’t counting or anything.”

  I let a watery laugh spill out before waving my hand, actually thinking I could dismiss my gloom like a pesky fly. Sure. That was going to be effective. “Go back to work, Chicago. Forget all this. I’m just being a dumb girl. I’ll be okay by tonight, and—”

  “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “I’m not forgetting about it.” He expelled a hard breath. “We’ve been apart too long.”

  “But it’s only been a week.”

  “And it’s been too long.”

  I really felt silly now. “Killian, come on. I just need to chill out, and—”

  “No. You need me near you, just like I need you near me. You need me pulling you off your feet and kissing you until you’re dizzy from it. You need my hands tearing off your clothes and then all over your naked skin…every fucking inch of it…until my fingers find their way inside you and spread you, getting you ready for my cock. Why don’t you tell me what you need after that, baby?”

  “You.” Thank God for my sunglasses and sun hat. I pulled the brim lower, hiding the way I panted for every breath and shut my eyes, fantasizing all the images he painted. “Inside me, Killian. With me.”

  “Yeah, my sweet fairy. That’s exactly right. A
nd that’s exactly what I want. I’m so hard, so hot, so miserable. I need to be near you, holding you, a part of you—reminding you who you belong to, where you belong. With me. Nowhere else.” His breaths were just as rough and fast as mine. “Does that sound about right?”

  Damn him. How I love him.

  “Why can’t it be next weekend already?” It was a needy, desperate whisper, and I didn’t care. “I wish I were wrapped in your arms…”

  “Done.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. Go home and pack. Bring your work clothes and files with you because you’re working from the headquarters office this week. And you’ll spend every night in my bed, damn it.”

  “All week?” I should have been miffed. Instead, my heart sang.

  “I’m sending a driver and the plane. I’ll text you the details. Don’t bother arguing.” The line went rough, as if he’d adjusted his grip on the handset again. His voice had thickened with pure command. “I need you. Not just with my body. With—” He grunted as if trying to talk himself into saying something. My heart tripped over at least ten beats. “I’m done with this bullshit, Claire. Two weeks is too damn long. By tonight, we’ll be together.”

  “I love you.” I sounded loopy and lovesick, even to my own ears. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the idea of getting to see him for more than forty-eight consecutive hours.

  “I’ll see you soon. Now go get packed.”

  I threw all my stuff back into my striped beach bag and headed for the car. A quick dusting of baby powder made sure the sand stayed at the beach, and I’d be ready to hop right into traveling clothes. As I drove home, the songs on the radio sounded happier, the breeze seemed lighter, and even the traffic seemed more agreeable.

  Killian Stone made everything in my world better.

  So, was it such a horrible thing that he preferred to keep some things in his world private?

  I turned the question over in my mind during the flight.

  How bad could the damn secret be, anyway? Wasn’t there a good chance I already knew all the major issues his family had thanks to the research I’d helped pull during Trey’s sex scandal last year as a member of the PR cleanup team? It wasn’t like Andrea, my boss, had allowed that file to grow cold, either. Killian’s brother was already showing signs of pulling the black fleece out of the closet again. He’d frequented a few clubs that had been his bad-boy candy stores, showed up late to meetings, jetted to Miami for long weekends. Oh, yeah, he was back on everyone’s radar.

  I actually smiled while enjoying a sip of the champagne the flight attendant had opened before takeoff.

  Trey’s addiction to fun was extra stress for everyone, but after all that, how huge a bomb could Killian have to drop? And was it possible I’d created that bomb in my mind, bracing myself for an explosion that was never to come, just because I couldn’t trust in the good of what we had?

  I had to stop constantly pushing back. Had to trust that Killian would open the door and let me see the secrets of his tower when the time was right. I’d fallen this hard for him without the invitation. I could certainly wait a little longer.

  Until then, I vowed to be less his adversary and more his girlfriend. Be more gracious about the extravagances, even if I didn’t need them.

  I had to stop being tempted to run again.

  Because one day, he’d refuse to give chase.

  Then I would truly know what devastation was. If being apart two weeks at a time was doing this to me, not having Killian at all was…

  Unthinkable.

  I directed my thoughts to another path. A viable action plan.

  Maybe it was time I chased him a little.

  Maybe it was time to rethink a permanent move to Chicago.

  I had a week to look at things with new eyes…and perhaps at the end of it, to surprise my Prince Charming with a sparkling surprise of his own. Finally, I could hit him with something he’d never see coming.

  * * *

  Around eight o’clock CST that night, I deplaned the Stone Global private jet at Midway Field.

  The world’s most stunning man waited for me on the tarmac next to the Stone Global town car, the wind kicking at his thick dark hair and his long leather trench.

  With each step I took down the stairs, my heart leaped one notch higher in my throat. Hoping this feeling never went away, no matter how long we were together, I scurried into the strong haven of his arms, burying my face in his neck while he pressed every inch of my body against his.

  I was home.

  I was his.

  While I never wanted the embrace to end, I finally pulled away enough to kiss him, grabbing his neck to keep him close. When we dragged apart, the night became day again with the brilliance of his smile.

  “Hi there, San Diego.”

  My grin couldn’t be contained. San Diego? Maybe not for much longer, Mr. Stone.

  “Hi there, Chicago.”

  “How was the flight?”

  “Unbearable without you.” I giggled as he rolled his eyes but sighed when he moved in for a deeper kiss. His tongue rolled against mine, tasting like a little Scotch and a lot of lust. We’d be lucky to make it to the penthouse if this kept up. “Thank you for this,” I murmured. “You spoil me rotten, and I promise I’ll start to love it more.”

  He brushed away the hair that had escaped my wool cap, his gaze raking my face with intensity. “That sounds really nice, fairy—because you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  I was happy to know his surprise hadn’t slipped his mind. It sure as hell hadn’t escaped mine. I grabbed his hand with an expectant grin, but the man returned an evil smile before ushering me into the car. He didn’t say a word as the driver loaded my bags into the trunk. Still nothing as we pulled away from the airport.

  “We probably should feed you first.” His statement was all business, but his gaze was pure mischief. “Did you eat on the plane? Before you left?”

  “Aggghhh.” I whacked his chest, but that only fed his mirth. I straightened, folded my arms, and drawled, “You want to know what I did do on the plane?”

  Inside a second, his stare turned to sensual velvet. “Does it involve you sprawled on the bed with your fingers in your panties?”

  I smacked him again but let my hand linger on his coat. The mix of the night wind, his cosmopolitan cologne, and that thick leather…wow. “I don’t use the bed unless you’re in it with me. You know that.”

  He curved his palm over mine, making me stay close. “I’ll be good. For now. Tell me.”

  “I worked on new affirmations. I’m going to be better about accepting surprises from you.”

  A rare, soft smile lifted his lips. It was the look he didn’t use very often, reserved for occasions like visits to the no-kill animal shelter he championed and Sunday dinners with his mom. “I really like the sound of that.”

  “Me too.” Since he had his animal rescue eyes on, I put on my best matching stare, along with a corresponding pout. “So…?”

  “So?” He slid the smile back into a smirk. “What?”

  “Damn it,” I groaned. He chuckled. “Are you going to make me beg? I’m not above it, Mr. Stone.”

  That ended the smirk. His face took on a thousand angles of lusty possibility, concentrated most fiercely in the sensual sweeps of his lips. As he tugged me against his chest, he let them part in heated promise before quietly ordering, “Yeah. I do want to hear you beg.”

  I didn’t need another cue. While pressing closer and lifting my face, I whispered, “Please don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll do anything you want.”

  His panther’s growl took greater force in his throat. “Anything? Hmmm. You may regret that promise, fairy.”

  “Try me,” I challenged.

  “You know I would’ve told you anyhow, right?

  “But making a deal with the devil is so much more fun.”

  As he laughed, he readjusted our positions, setting me back by a bit—and clearly tryi
ng to wrestle his crotch to a less conspicuous swell. I bit my lip hard, gazing at that bulge. It was just as difficult for me to hold back from grabbing a good feel.

  “Okay…here goes.” He actually seemed a little nervous, and that made my heart pound again. “You know how you’ve been moaning about your passport gathering dust?”

  “Ummm…yeah?” I didn’t hide the questioning lilt to it.

  “Does three weeks sound like ample time to do some dusting?”

  Forget the pounding. My pulse took off at a gallop. “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “I mean three weeks. You and me. Your birthday is coming up, and I thought we could celebrate with a splash. Italy and France, maybe Spain if we have time. Rome? Venice? Marseilles? Paris? What sounds good?” His gaze narrowed when I could do nothing with mine but gawk. “We leave in ten days, so I can have the travel girls tweak the arrangements. I know you’ve also lusted after Tuscany. It’s harder to get to, but we could work in a small side trip if you—” He halted, staring at me with a hint of panic. I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen that look on his face. It stunned me just as much as what he’d said. “Claire?” He tapped a nervous thumb on his thigh. “For God’s sake, say something.”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to comply. “I…it’s…well…whoa. Three weeks. Wow.”

  “Which means what in English?”

  I felt like an ass. Shock had me going for the nonstop stammer, and it all seemed to be the wrong damn thing.

  “I’m sorry. No, wait—I mean, I’m not sorry, not about—oh, hell. Did Andrea really agree to this? How pissed was she when you—?”

  “You’re worried about Andrea?” He looked as furious as a wildcat stuck in a barrel over Niagara Falls—with my words as the rushing water.

  “I’m ruining this,” I muttered. “Again.” When Killian’s jaw clenched so hard his chin nearly formed a V, I dropped my head and fell into silence, knowing if I said anything else it would emerge in a tearful blubber.

  Killian yanked me close again. “I have Andrea handled, baby. She’s Barney compared to the T-Rexes I’ve taken on in my life.”

  I giggled at the image of my boss’s elegant face poking out of a purple Barney costume. But what the hell did he mean by T-Rexes? And wasn’t I not supposed to care anymore, anyway?