Chapter Seventeen – The Wrong Idea

Sydney 

I snuggled closer to the warm thing behind me. When did the cushion turn so cozy? The daze still hadn’t cleared, and I wanted to sleep more. But a warm caress on my cheek startled me, and I woke up to a start. What was that? 

Opening my eyes, I focused on my surroundings. Thank God I was still in the bed where I slept last night. After dreaming all night of Killian rescuing me from Jacques Le Roux, I was confused. The dream seemed so real; I had trouble adjusting my senses. 

But why did I feel so warm? I tried to wake up and draw the curtains aside, but something heavy around my waist clamped me down. Looking down, I froze. 

It was Killian’s bare arm, tightly wound around me, clamping me to what seemed like his hard bare chest. I couldn’t turn to look at him. Was he awake and waiting for me to turn? Would he kiss me when I did?

My breath hitched at the thought. Yet there was no movement behind me. Should I look? 

Slowly turning around, gasped to find myself on his side of the bed. 

So he was right! 

How did I land up here? 

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I struggled to escape before he woke up. He hadn’t moved, and it was a relief to see him fast asleep. Despite my struggle, his grip on my waist didn’t loosen. 

How would I face him when he woke up? 

I tried to slip out of his hold, but it didn’t work. What if I gently removed his hand and then escaped? I tried that too, but it didn’t work. 

How could I escape without waking him up? 

Wait, was he awake? How did his grip tighten more? 

I watched his face cautiously for some movement to see if he was awake. There were none. 

His eyes were closed, and his ridiculously long eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks made him look irresistible. My gaze faltered, latching onto the broad expanse of bare skin against me. What the hell! I was right. 

My stomach dropped, and I restrained the urge to run my fingers along the contours of his rugged torso. No wonder I felt so warm against him! I just hoped he was wearing something down there. But how could I check without seeing his organ? 

No, I couldn’t torture my virgin eyes! 

I reached down and touched his waist to check if he was wearing his pants. However, my hand landed on something rock hard, jutting out. Thankfully, he had his sweatpants on.

My eyes widened, realizing what I had touched. Damn! 

I had touched Killian Barlowe’s co*k! And it was hard!

“That’s not a nice thing to do, Princess.” his husky voice made me freeze. 

I looked up straight into his whiskey-hued eyes, staring at me, and I felt too mortified to think straight. 

‘Move your hand, dammit,’ prodded my inner mind, but I stayed frozen, paralyzed, and stared back at him in a dazed state.

“Move your hand, Princess, or I might get the wrong idea.” His glittering eyes and raspy breath brought me to my senses. 

I snatched my hand away as if scalded. “Umm, you can remove your hand too or I might get the wrong idea.” I reminded him. I had no idea where I got the courage from. The need to escape him and hide somewhere forever was too strong to ignore.

“Oh, is it? And what idea will you get? Do you realize you’re on my side?” I almost groaned with shock and humiliation. 

“It wasn’t intentional. I had a nightmare of Jacques Le Roux chasing me.” I had no idea why I was explaining myself to him. The look of disbelief on his face should have stopped me, but it didn’t. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

No, I didn’t desire him. 

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Oh? And why were you touching me?” He didn’t release me at all and I had no way of escape. 

“To wake you up so that you would let me go. That’s all. You shouldn’t have imprisoned me against you.” I wanted to die of shame now. 

He released me at last. “I see. So why did you roll over if you didn’t want to be held close?” 

I scrambled over to my side to get a grip on my jumpy nerves. My heart thumped wildly in its cage. I had no answer to his question. “Umm, I have a habit of moving around in my sleep. Anyway, you aren’t my type. So let’s forget the scene, yeah? I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.” 

With a growl, he grabbed my arm and yanked me back to him, flush against his chest. A gasp of horror escaped from my lips. 

“Who’s your type? Hendricks?” he growled, and I gaped at him. 

Did he only grasp that out of my lengthy speech? 

“What? No. He’s only an acquaintance, please.” I struggled to get free, but he tightened his hold on me. We were treading on dangerous ground, and I knew the consequences. He would use violence on anyone I liked. Did I affect him so much? It felt exhilarating. 

“Then who? Tell me, or we can spend the day in bed.” He glared at me, torn between jealousy and anger. 

I raised my eyebrow at the guy. Wasn’t he overreacting? “Liam..” 

“Now who the f*ck is, Liam?” he rolled me over and pinned me to the bed, his furious face hovering inches away from me. 

I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t even let me say the full name before reacting. “Hemsworth.” 

He gaped at me for a second, not having expected a celebrity name. Then he gave out a derisive snort before easing off me. 

“Good to know you and Hemsworth are never happening. Shall we get some work done today or laze around in bed all day?” His mood had suddenly brightened, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he acted on the latter part of his suggestion. 

Not that I minded. If he had such a giant hidden in his pants, I couldn’t imagine how it would feel inside me. 

“Umm, I’ll get ready in five.” I sprang from the bed and ran to the washroom to get ready. With Killian, it was impossible to know what lay ahead of me. Every minute, it seemed I was walking on tenterhooks, trying to understand his fluctuating mood swings. He was worse than a woman during her period.

When I emerged from the washroom, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel, he was gone. It was a relief since, in my haste, I had forgotten to carry a change of clothes. 

Locking the door, I quickly changed into my work wear when there was a knock on the main door. Who could it be this early in the morning? 

Opening the bedroom door, I walked out to a delightful breakfast laid out on the table. I couldn’t help the smile from breaking out. He had ordered breakfast already. It only proved he cared. 

But where was he? 

The spare washroom door in the lounge area opened, and Killian stepped out, freshly showered. My eyes flew to his damp, bare torso, traveling down to his towel-wrapped lower half before I could stop myself. That single glance was enough to check out the shape and hardness of his tool, although I didn’t want to. This guy was a menace to my resistance. My nipples hardened and scraped against my bra, but thankfully, I was wearing a padded one. 

“You can start. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” He flashed me a bright smile and turned away. It seemed he could easily read my mind. So, he knew I checked him out. 

God, this was so embarrassing! 

I helped myself to the coffee and breakfast just to get my mind off him. I could hear him wearing his clothes – every sound echoed around in the tent, making me even more aroused. How did it escalate to this? I hated the bipolar guy, right? 

I focused on my food and chanted repeatedly in my mind. 

This was a temporary phase.

In a month, I would have enough money to live independently, somewhere far away from Killian Barlowe. I should ignore my response to him, or it would complicate matters. 

He emerged, dressed in a pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt. I tried to keep my eyes to myself, although it sapped up all my energy to do so. “How are you feeling today? I hope you won’t buckle like yesterday?” He took a sip of his coffee and looked at me. 

“I’m fine today. No, I won’t buckle. You can assign me as much work as you can.” I didn’t fear work. I feared my body’s traitorous reactions to him. 

This wouldn’t do at all. I had to make separate sleeping arrangements for myself. 

“I intend to. This time without the condition.” He smiled, looking more relaxed and sincere. 

I was glad he forgot his obsession to make me his se* slave. Or did he? 

Well, I wasn’t taking chances. “I’m glad. On second thoughts, do you provide staff accommodation to your employees here?” 

A nerve clenched in his jaw as he glared at me, waiting to attack. “Yes, the staff quarters are at the backside of the property. Why do you ask?”

“Umm, can I sleep there, please? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”  

He pushed his plate away and sprang from the seat in a fit of rage. “What if I want to get the wrong idea? I want to taste the forbidden, Ms. Sydney Bardot. I want you.”