MY AFFAIR WITH A DEADLY SOLDIER

8

PHOEBE POV

Kingsley didn't even flinch.

He just stood there in that low-slung towel, his broad chest still rising and falling from the effort of the s**t he was doing moments ago. His eyes stayed completely cold, locked onto mine with zero shame.

Trixie let out a sharp, nasty laugh behind him. She grabbed her red dress off the floor and pulled it up her sweaty body.

"See?" Trixie spat, glaring at me while slipping into her heels. "I told you she was listening, Kingsley. This whole setup is f*****g pathetic. Pay me my money so I can get out of here."

Kingsley didn't take his eyes off me for a single second. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a heavy envelope of cash, and threw it flat against Trixie's chest without looking.

"Get out," he commanded, his voice dark and deadly.

Trixie clutched the envelope, snapped her purse shut, and shoved right past my shoulder, her heels clicking angrily down the hallway until the front door slammed shut.

The house went completely dead silent.

I stood in the doorway of the room, my chest heaving, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run back to my own bed. But the raw, thick tension humming between us kept my feet glued to the floor.

Kingsley slowly took a step closer to the threshold.

"You think you heard your name?" he asked smoothly, his voice dropping into a low, quiet purr.

"I didn't think I heard it," I choked out, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and absolute humiliation. "I heard you loud and clear, Kingsley. You were calling me a tight little b***h while f*****g her."

A dark, wicked smirk slowly broke through his cold face. He looked down at me from head to toe, taking in my hard n*****s pressing against his oversized shirt and the rise and fall of my chest.

"And what if I was?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "You think because I muttered your name, it means something? Go back to your room, Phoebe."

I blinked, stunned by how fast he shoved his walls back up.

"What?" I rasped.

"You heard me. Leave," Kingsley said flatly, his voice turning completely icy. "Whatever you think you heard down this hall, you're not capable of handling it."

He took a half-step back, his tone dripping with absolute detachment. "My men have already cleared things up around your place. Sleep early tonight and prepare to leave tomorrow morning. You're free to go."

A sharp, violent pain pierced right through my chest, instantly mixing with the burning anger in my blood. Free to go? After bringing another woman into his bed, shouting my name into the dark, and using me up mentally for twenty-four hours, he was just going to discard me like trash?

As Kingsley reached out to shove the heavy wooden door straight in my face, something inside me snapped. I didn't think twice

Driven by pure rage and raw, suffocating pain, I threw both hands forward and grabbed the edge of the door frame, holding it back with every ounce of strength I had left.

Kingsley froze. His eyes narrowed, turning razor-sharp as he looked down at my shaking hands holding the door open.

"Are you some sort of coward?" I spat out, my voice trembling with sharp, bitter humiliation. I stared right into his cold face, my tears finally threatening to spill. "Floating around with big muscles, acting all tough... or do you only get power when you're holding a gun and killing people?"

The air in the hallway turned completely suffocating.

Kingsley didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice. But a dark, dangerous shift washed over his entire body. Slowly, he released his grip on the doorknob, stepping out of the shadows until his massive, dripping chest was towering right over me.

"A coward?" Kingsley repeated, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying purr that made the hairs on my arms stand straight up. "You think holding back from breaking you in half makes me a coward, Phoebe?"

"Just leave. Don’t push your luck, little bird," he growled low in his throat.

"No... Don't shut me out," I whispered, my pulse hammering against my ribs so hard I could barely breathe. My hand was shaking against the door, but I didn't pull it back.

I swallowed hard, my throat completely bone-dry. The anger in my chest suddenly turned into a crazy, desperate impulse that made no logical sense.

"I’ll leave," I choked out, staring right into his hard face. "I’ll pack my things and go tomorrow morning... but only if my touch does absolutely nothing to you."

Before Kingsley could even process what I just said, I stepped past the threshold and stood on my tiptoes. I reached up, wrapped my trembling hands around his neck, and pressed my lips straight onto his.

I kissed him with everything I had left—raw, desperate, and completely reckless. My mouth moved against his, begging for a reaction, begging for him to kiss me back.

But guess what, He didn't move an inch.

Kingsley stood there like a stone wall, his hands resting flat by his sides, his chest firm and motionless against mine. He didn't kiss me back. He didn't even open his lips.

A crushing, suffocating wave of shame washed over me. I pulled my mouth away, my face burning with a heat so intense I thought I would collapse right onto the floor. I dropped my arms, taking a slow step backward.

"I’m sorry," I muttered softly, my voice barely audible as a single tears threatened to fall. "I will leave tomorrow morning."

I turned and was ready to run back down the hallway and lock myself in the guest room forever.

But…..I didn't even make it two steps.

Kingsley’s arm shot out, grabbing my wrist with ruthless force and yanking me backward into his hard chest. Before I could gasp, he spun me around, his long, heavy fingers wrapping tightly around the back of my neck. His thumb pressed firmly against the rapid beat of my pulse, tilting my head up until I had no choice but to look into his dark, hungry eyes.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across Kingsley's face.

"Liar," he murmured against my skin.