MY AFFAIR WITH A DEADLY SOLDIER

12

PHOEBE

My hands shook as I quickly put the picture frame back down beside the bed, turned around, and rushed straight to the door just as it swung open.

Kingsley stepped inside.

He looked completely messed up. Blood was splattered across his bare chest and arms, his hair was wild, and his sweatpants were stained red. But as he stood there breathing heavily, his dark eyes locked straight onto mine.

Relief washed over me so fast my knees almost gave out. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I ran forward and threw my arms tightly around his neck.

I buried my face in his neck and started crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my face, and heavy sobs shook my chest. I didn't even know why I was crying so hard—whether it was from anger, fear, or pure relief—but I couldn't stop.

Kingsley stood still for a second, surprised, before his broad arm came around my waist, holding me firm against him.

After a long moment, I forced myself to break free from the hug, wiping my wet face with the back of my hand.

"Are... are you hurt?!" I asked frantically, my voice cracking as my eyes swept over him.

"I'm fine, Phoebe," he said, his low voice gravelly as he watched me panic.

"No, look at all this blood!" I argued, my hands hovering over his body.

I quickly checked his chest, arms, and stomach, but the blood covering his skin wasn't even his. I couldn't see a single fresh wound on him, except for the almost healed cut on his ribs from the night we first met.

"You're bleeding everywhere," I blurted out, turning to rush toward the bathroom. "Wait right here, let me go carry the first aid box—"

"Phoebe," Kingsley growled low.

Before I could take a single step, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me straight back into his hard body. He pulled me flush against his chest, shutting down all my panic in a split second.

His thick fingers wrapped tightly around the back of my neck, tilting my head up until my eyes met his.

"I told you," he whispered against my lips, his breath hot and heavy. "It's not my blood."

He didn't give me another chance to speak. Kingsley brought his mouth down on mine, kissing me with a wild, burning intensity that completely wiped away the fear, the blood, and every doubt left in my mind.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were still brushing against mine. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, his eyes locked onto mine.

A slow smirk broke across his lips as if he remembered what I had yelled at him right before the thugs arrived.

"So..." he murmured, his deep voice low against my skin. "No love, no family, no walking down any aisle..."

"Just a service," I completed for him, my breath hitching as I looked straight into his eyes. "No feelings. Just fun."

Kingsley leaned in closer, his thumb moving up to trace my jawline, his smirk growing wider.

"A simple deal," he whispered. "You get your service... and I get you in my bed with zero strings attached."

He didn't wait for me to answer. He slammed his mouth back onto mine, taking away whatever breath I had left.

This kiss was rough, hungry, and full of heat. He lifted me up by my thighs, pinning my back against the closed door. My legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct, my hands clutching his shoulders.

The blood on his skin smeared against my shirt, but right now, I didn't care. The adrenaline from the fight down below was still running through him, and the danger of the night was making my head spin.

"Kingsley..." I breathed out, my chest heaving against his bare chest.

"Say my name again, little bird," he growled against my skin, his fingers digging into my sides.

"Kingsley, wait—"

He stopped, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark and intense, watching every breath I took.

"What?" he asked, his voice rough. "Backing out already?"

"No," I choked out, looking back at him. "You're bleeding. You need to wash off the blood first."

A low laugh rumbled in his chest. He didn't drop me to the floor. Instead, he adjusted his grip under my thighs and turned away, carrying me easily across the bedroom toward the bathroom.

He kicked open the bathroom door, stepping into the huge room.

Just as my feet touched the cold floor, the distant sound of screeching tires and heavy car doors slamming echoed up from the driveway outside.

My heart did a violent flip in my chest. My body went completely rigid, and I grabbed his arm tight, panic flaring right back up.

"Is... is that more of them?" I whispered frantically, looking toward the window. "Did more thugs come back?"

Kingsley didn't flinch. A small, dry smile touched his lips as he reached over to turn on the bathroom faucet.

"Relax, little bird," he said smoothly, running cold water over his hands as the dark blood washed down the drain. "They aren't thugs. They are just here to clean up the mess."

He grabbed a white towel from the rack, wet it, and wiped down his chest, his stomach, and his face. He tossed the stained towel aside and turned back to me, trapping me against the counter between his arms.

He tilted his head down, his dark eyes locking straight onto mine.

"Now," he murmured, his thumb moving up to trace my jawline. "Where were we?"