Protected part 2

The next three days were a special kind of torture.

Kai was always there.

Not hovering—never that—but present. In the background of every room. In the passenger seat of the black SUV when I left the building. Standing near the wall at the charity lunch while I smiled for cameras and tried not to notice the way his eyes never stopped moving. He spoke only when necessary. He never touched me. He barely looked at me longer than a second.

And somehow that made it worse.

I started dressing differently without meaning to. Higher heels. Dresses that sat closer to the skin. Once I caught him watching the line of my bare thigh when I crossed my legs in the back of the car. His jaw flexed. Then he looked away like it had never happened.

That night I couldn’t sleep again.

I padded into the kitchen for water at half past one, wearing only the same oversized T-shirt as before. The penthouse was quiet. City lights spilled across the floor. I was halfway to the fridge when I realized I wasn’t alone.

Kai stood near the terrace doors, back to me, phone to his ear. He was still in the black shirt and pants, sleeves rolled up again. The low murmur of his voice was too quiet to catch.

I should have turned around.

Instead I leaned against the counter and watched the way the muscles in his forearm shifted when he ended the call.

He turned.

His eyes landed on me—legs bare, T-shirt skimming the tops of my thighs, hair loose—and something dark moved behind them before he locked it down.

“You should be in bed,” he said.

“So should you.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket and walked toward me. Slow. Controlled. The kitchen island was the only thing between us when he stopped.

“Threat level’s elevated,” he said. “Someone tried to access the building’s service elevator an hour ago with a cloned keycard. They didn’t get far, but it means they’re testing responses.”

My stomach dropped. “Is that why you’re still here?”

“I’m here because it’s my job.” His gaze flicked down my body once, quick and unwilling, then came back to my face. “And because you still haven’t learned to lock the terrace doors.”

I glanced past him. The doors were closed. Locked. I’d checked them before bed.

“I locked them.”

“You did. I unlocked them twenty minutes ago to check the sensors.” He rested both hands on the edge of the island. “You’re not as careful as you think you are, Miss Voss.”

The formal name should have put distance between us. It didn’t. The way he said it felt like a warning and a dare at the same time.

I set the glass down harder than I meant to. “Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“It’s what people call me when they want something. You’re already getting paid. You don’t need to be polite.”

Kai’s eyes stayed on mine. For a moment the only sound was the low hum of the city far below.

Then he spoke, quieter.

“Maya.”

My name in his mouth did something dangerous to my pulse.

He pushed off the island and walked around it. I didn’t move. He stopped close enough that I could feel the heat of him, close enough that the clean scent of his skin mixed with whatever dark soap he used.

“You need to stop walking around like this,” he said. Voice low. Rough at the edges. “I’m here to protect you. Not to keep looking at your legs every time you decide clothes are optional.”

Heat flooded my face—and lower. “Then stop looking.”

“I can’t.”

The admission hung between us, heavy and irreversible.

Kai’s jaw was tight. His hands stayed at his sides like he didn’t trust them. I could see the pulse in his throat. I could see the exact second he decided he was done pretending this was only about the job.

He reached out and gripped the edge of the counter on either side of my hips, caging me in without touching. The move forced me to tip my head back. Our mouths were inches apart.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’m supposed to keep you safe. Not want to push you up against this counter and find out if you’re wet under that shirt.”

The words hit me like a direct stroke between the legs. My breath left me in a shaky exhale.

Kai’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Tell me to back up.”

I didn’t.

Instead I leaned in the last inch and brushed my lips against his.

It was barely a kiss. Soft. Testing. He went completely still for half a second—then made a low, almost angry sound and kissed me back like he’d been holding it in for days.

His mouth was hot, controlled, and filthy all at once. One hand left the counter and slid under the hem of my T-shirt, palm dragging up the bare skin of my thigh until his fingers brushed the edge of my panties. He didn’t go further. He just held me there, gripping hard enough to bruise, while he kissed me like he was punishing us both.

When he finally broke away we were both breathing hard.

His forehead rested against mine. His hand was still under my shirt, fingers flexing against my hip.

“This can’t happen,” he said, voice rough.

“It already is.”

Kai closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again the hunger was still there, but so was the control.

He pulled his hand free, stepped back, and put three full feet of space between us like it physically hurt.

“Go to bed, Maya.”

“Kai—”

“Go.” The word was quiet, final. “Before I forget why I took this job.”

I stood there for a long moment, lips still tingling, the place where his hand had been burning on my skin. Then I turned and walked back to the bedroom on unsteady legs.

I locked the door.

I leaned against it.

And I slid my hand between my thighs because I was soaked, aching, and completely unable to pretend I didn’t want him to follow me.

He didn’t.

But when I finally crawled into bed, I left the terrace doors unlocked on purpose.

Just to see what he would do.