Unsuitable
Page 43

He pulls back, staring at me like he doesn’t even know me. Doesn’t know why he’s here.
His brows draw together, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He looks like he’s in pain.
A cold, sick feeling trickles into my stomach.
My hands drop from him.
His eyes flash open. The look I see in them…regret.
Fucking regret.
I feel like ice has just been poured all over me, the shards sharp and stinging against my skin.
His hand slips from my thigh, letting my leg drop to the floor. The sound of my shoe hitting the tiled floor is loud in this painful silence.
He steps back from me.
My chest hollows out.
“Kas…”
He turns on his heel and strides away, leaving me here.
What?
I sink back against the unforgiving wall.
What…just happened?
We were here and kissing, and it was amazing. I mean, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And then he…looked like he didn’t even know why he was kissing me, and he walked away without a word.
I don’t get it.
Or…
Maybe he just remembered exactly whom he was kissing.
Oh God.
I feel sick.
He really does think I’m beneath him.
Maybe I am.
I’m dirt-poor. Fresh out of prison. I carry more baggage than Heathrow Airport.
I’m trash.
I’m his cleaner, for God’s sake!
My eyes start to sting with tears. I press the heels of my hands to them.
Kas is good-looking and rich. Yeah, he’s an arsehole ninety percent of the time, but rich people get to be arseholes.
So, why in the world would a guy like him want a girl like me?
He wouldn’t—clearly.
He obviously got lost in the moment. I was an easy way to spend a few minutes.
And didn’t I just give it up? I would have had sex with him if he’d asked.
Jesus. I’m such a fool.
My face starts to burn with shame and embarrassment.
Don’t I ever learn? Didn’t I get burned enough by the last man I let close?
And to kiss him, of all people…my boss.
But then it was him that kissed me. It wasn’t like I threw myself at him. He instigated it. And then he acted like a head case right after.
Total dick move.
I mean, who does that? Who kisses someone and then just walks away?
An arsehole—that’s who.
Kas-hole.
Well, screw him.
I don’t need his shit.
I just need this job.
I take a few gulps of air, but the air in here just feels cloggy, and all I can smell on my skin is Kas. The scent of his bloody aftershave.
Straightening my spine, I push off the wall and head toward the back door—in the exact opposite direction where Kas went.
I just need to go outside, get some fresh air. Clear my head. Figure out how to handle this monumental fuckup.
I head out back and around the side of the house, needing some quiet.
I lean against the house and rest my head back.
Sighing, I shut my eyes. But, when I do, all that happens is that I see Kas kissing me. I remember the feel of his lips on mine, like it’s happening again right now.
I want him. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.
I might not like Kas, and I might want to punch him in the nutsack. But I do want him.
How screwed up is that?
But I can’t have him because it would be the worst idea in the world, and he doesn’t want me.
He made that fact perfectly clear when he pushed away from me, looked at me with regret, and then stalked away without a word.
I breathe through the ache of his rejection.
How am I supposed to forget the way he tastes, the way he kisses, the way he feels under my hands?
How am I supposed to see him every day after this?
I’ll do it because I have no choice. He doesn’t want me, but there are more important things at stake than my lusty feelings for Kastor Matis.
And it was just a kiss. One measly kiss.
Only…it didn’t feel like just a kiss.
“Hey, whatcha doing out here? You avoiding work? Or just hiding out from Kas?” The sound of Cooper’s chuckling voice jolts me out of my thoughts.
My eyes flash open. For a second, I panic and think he knows about what just happened in the kitchen with Kas and me, but he couldn’t.
Shaking off the feeling, I push off the wall and force a smile. “Hey, Cooper. Neither. Just having a minute.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Kas giving you a hard time again?”
Is Kas giving me a hard time? Well, he was definitely hard a few minutes ago.
Before he realized whom he was getting hard for.
That douses cold water on the memory.
“No more than usual.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “What are you doing up here?” I ask him.
“Ran out of milk.” He grins.
“You’re always running out of milk. Do you guys just live on cups of tea?”
“And biscuits.”
“Can’t forget the biscuits. You ran out of them as well?”
His grin deepens.
“Lucky for you, there’s milk in the fridge and plenty of biscuits in the larder. I’ll grab them for you.”
“Before you do”—he stops me with a hand on my arm, which he quickly removes—“I, um…I wanted to ask you…” He shifts on his feet, running a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. “Well, I wondered if you’d want to have a drink on Thursday night?”