Nicholas was standing between my legs, with both hands resting on top of the counter, only two inches away from my thighs. In a way, he was caging me, blocking my way so there was no way for me to escape him. His face was less than a foot away from mine. I could feel the heat emanating from his skin. I could smell his faint, fresh, masculine aftershave.
“N-Nick,” I said again, my heart pounding wildly. I was sure he could hear it hammering against my chest.
He inched his face closer, testing what I was going to do, seeing if I would push him away. But my hands were frozen into fists resting above my thighs.
“You owe me a kiss, kitten,” he said.
My eyes widened. “W-what?”
He raised a brow. “Remember our deal? One hit, one kiss.”
“When did we… when?” I asked incoherently.
He smirked and then he replied, “When did we agree to that? Last week. I suggested it. I remember you saying being kissed by a guy is gross. But I do not remember you saying no to my suggestion. When did you hit me? This morning. You elbowed me…” he trailed off. Then he took one of my hands in his, bringing it to his upper abdominal area, right in the middle of his six-pack abs. “Right here.”
I felt those toned muscles under the thin material of his shirt. My mouth went dry and I forgot to breathe for a full minute.
“I know you don’t like being kissed by a boy,” he continued when my tongue remained frozen for another minute. “Well, I don’t like being hit by a girl either. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.”
Then slowly, he leaned forward. I couldn’t do anything but close my eyes and feel what was about to happen. I felt his warm, minty breath against my flushed skin. My hand slid up to his hard, muscled chest. It rested there, but I didn’t find the strength to push him away.
I felt the tip of his nose against the base of my neck. I shivered as I heard his sharp intake of breath. Then I felt his lips as he placed a wet kiss against my skin. It lasted for a couple of seconds, but to me, it felt like an eternity.
My nerves felt as though they were erupting when I did not even know they were lying dormant at all. I suppressed a moan from coming out of my lips. I lost myself in the feel of his kiss against my skin. I thought being kissed by a boy would be disgusting. But damn! I wanted more of this, and I wanted it to last even longer.
It took me a moment to realize that Nick had already pulled away from me. He was still standing between my legs but he was no longer touching me. He stared back at me, studying my reaction to his kiss.
I blinked back to reality, blood rising to my already flushed face. There was no denying it in my expression. And Nick once said he had the curse of being too good at judging people. He knew that I enjoyed that moment between us.
He smiled slowly. His eyes were glittering. He raised his hand to push a lock of stray hair away from my face. Then he said, “Well, that wasn’t so gross at all, was it?”
Fuck!
I had to react fast. I knew I had to put my defenses back up or I’d drown in Nick’s little game. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t fall for his charms. I couldn’t be part of the list of the girls who cried their hearts out over him.
I’m Ken Clarke!
I cannot be his victim.
***
I gathered all my strength to push Nicholas away. “Get away from me!”
He took a step back. “Come on, kitten. That was the rule. And I wasn’t the one who broke it.”
“It wasn’t gross for you? Well, it sure was disgusting for me!” Lie, I know! But I had to redeem whatever was left of my dignity. I just showed Nicholas Atkins I wasn’t entirely immune to his charms. I was no different from the tramps he would charm at Rhythemes. I jumped down from the counter and continued glaring at him. “I hate you!”
He raised a brow at me and frowned. I could see that I was starting to get on his nerves.
“Liar,” he whispered, more to himself. His voice was low as if he didn’t intend for me to hear that and I got even angrier.
“What the fuck do you know about what I feel?!”
He raised his chin and his brow, looking at me with a challenging look on his face. “I told you once that I was usually good at judging people. Do you want me to spell it out for you?” In fairness to Nicholas, his voice was completely calm. He was trying his damn best not to hurt my ego even more.
He took a step toward me. “You know what you want, kitten. But you don’t want to admit it to yourself. You know what you’re feeling; you just can’t accept it. Right now, what you think you are is no longer synonymous with what you feel you are.” His voice was low, but I heard every word he said. I understood what he meant.
“You’re wrong,” I said in a quiet voice, still trying to deny what Nick was saying to my face, what he was forcing out of me.
He narrowed his eyes. “Really?” His expression was grave, as though he finally reached his breaking point and he was done taking bullshit from me. He took a deep breath and said, “Tell me you didn’t like it when I kissed you a while ago. Say that it didn’t make you blush, didn’t make your heart beat faster than normal.” He paused, taking another step toward me. “Tell me you don’t want more…” His voice was low, but I heard him just fine because he was already standing less than a foot from me. Our bodies were almost touching, I could feel heat radiating from his skin to mine.
I looked up at him breathlessly. He was staring at me intensely, unfazed by the very small gap between us. I could almost feel his beating heart—strong but steady. And I was sure he could hear my pounding and erratic heartbeat.
Fuck it!
It was like Nicholas could read all my thoughts, could feel all my emotions. I wanted to scream ‘No!’ to his face, but truth be told, I did like it when he kissed me. It did make me blush. It did make my heart beat faster. And worse, I do want more! So much more!
“You’re a sack of conceit, aren’t you?” I said angrily, tilting my chin up and looking into his eyes, trying my damn best to look defiant.
To my surprise, he smiled at me crookedly. “I’ve been called that before. But I’ve never been called a liar.” He raised a brow at me again, challenging me, daring me to deny what we both knew was the truth:
I want this guy—like a woman wants a man!
But I hated it that he realized it even before I had the guts to admit it to myself. And I hated it that he was forcing me to admit it to him now. Such an egotistical pig!
I didn’t know how he did it, but somehow, he succeeded in bringing out the woman in me. He knew it. Damn! How proud he must be. He was too charming—even for the great Ken Clarke!
In the midst of my anger and frustration, I couldn’t help taking a step back from him and saying, “You’re right! I couldn’t get enough of this!” And without warning, I swung my right arm and hit him solidly against the face with my fist.
“Holy fuck!” I cursed as I felt the familiar pain of bruising flesh on my knuckles. How could I forget that Nick’s jaw was made of titanium or that my bones were too delicate to stand against his? Haven’t I learned that lesson yet?
I hugged my arm against my chest. Nick rubbed his jaw. He didn’t even step back, so I doubted that he was hurt. When he saw that I was in pain, though, his expression immediately softened and I saw guilt cross his face.
“Kitten…” he whispered.
I glared at him angrily. “Stay the hell away from me!” Then I stormed away toward the bedroom.
“Kitten!” I heard him say, hot on my heels. “Come on! It was a joke.”
“It’s not funny!” I shouted back. When I reached the bedroom, I slammed the door to his face and went to the bathroom for the medical kit.
“Let me look at your hand at least?” he asked from the other side of the door. I took the first aid kit from the bathroom and placed it on top of the bed. “Kitten, please? Let me in?” I heard Nick plead outside.
Technically, it was his bedroom and I didn’t even lock the door, but he didn’t want to enter without my permission. I shook my head. For a playboy, Nick knew the gentleman’s etiquette quite well. And in spite of the throbbing pain in my knuckles, I still found that admirable.
When I did not speak for a long time, he said, “I’m coming in, okay? I just want to check your hand.”
He opened the door gently. He found me trying to wipe alcohol pads against the skin on my knuckles. He kneeled in front of me and without a word, he took the pads and my hand. He dabbed the pads against the sore, scabbed surface and then he blew on it to lessen the pain.
“How many times will you break your bones for me, kitten?” he asked in low, gentle voice.
“Until your head shrinks to a size of a peanut!” I replied.
He chuckled. “Never gonna happen. I will always find something to be proud of.”
“So it seems!” I murmured. “Now, I’ll bet you’re proud you got to kiss the man-hater Ken Clarke!”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes boring through my soul. Then he took a deep breath and asked, “Well, do you… hate me?”
Damn!
I knew I didn’t hate Nick. But the question should be, do I like him?
I’ve been asking myself that stupid question for days. And every time I got close to answering it, my clouded brain just shut out all the possibilities. I always found myself back to the current state I was in—the state of denial.
“I… I…” I stammered.
Nick raised a brow and said, “That was a fairly easy question to answer kitten. Unless you know you don’t. I know you don’t trust guys. You hate them because of your father. But I also know you don’t hate me.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. Maybe it was better that I didn’t speak. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t make sense anyway.
Nick let go of my hand. He placed both of his hands on my sides and he slowly rose to lean his face toward mine.
My heart pounded loudly against my chest, and I forgot what the words ‘air’ or ‘oxygen’ meant and why they were in the dictionary in the first place.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
I saw the glitter in his eyes and the playful look on his face before he inched his face closer to mine, stealing my breath, increasing my heartbeat, making my heart stop.
“Testing my theory and giving you a reason to punch me again,” he said in a low, serious voice laced with mischief.