MY AFFAIR WITH A DEADLY SOLDIER

3

PHOEBE POV

I didn't bother to argue. I just turned around and walked straight down the hall to the guest room, closing the door behind me. I reached for the lock, my hand hovering over the bolt.

Don't try to play smart, little bird.

His warning echoed in my head. I let my hand drop, leaving the door unlocked, and stepped further inside.

The room was huge. It had a massive bed with black sheets and giant glass windows showing the city lights below. It was beautiful, but a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

I pulled out my phone, and just as expected - Zero missed calls. Zero texts.

Nobody was looking for me. If I vanished tonight, no one would even notice.

My dad definitely wouldn't care. The only time he ever called was when he lost all his money gambling and needed me to pay his debts. Ever since my mom died, I had been surviving completely on my own. My mother spent her entire life struggling, crying, and breaking her back for a man who treated her like trash.

Between watching my dad destroy my mother, and my high school boyfriend sleeping with my best friend right before graduation, I hated the idea of love. Marriage was just a trap that gave a man the right to ruin your life.

Honestly, I was obsessed with spicy web novels. In my favorite books, the main female leads were rich heiresses who paid hot guys for pure, intense fun—no feelings, no strings, no marriage, and total control. They just took what they wanted and walked away. I always wished I could live like that. But on my library salary, that was just a stupid dream.

A sharp shiver ran through my body. My clothes were damp from the rain, and I was freezing. Thanks to the storm—and my terrifying captor—I was way too tired and cold to take a shower. I just wanted to get out of these wet clothes.

Knock. Knock.

My heart jumped into my throat.

"Phoebe," Kingsley's deep voice came from the other side. "I left some clothes for you."

I held my breath, waiting for the door handle to turn. But it didn't.

I heard his heavy footsteps walk away down the hall until everything went quiet.

I took a breath, stepped over, and opened the door a tiny crack. Kingsley wasn't there.

Neatly folded on the floor was a big black t-shirt, soft shorts, and a hair wrap. He was a dangerous killer who had just shot a man without blinking, yet he left me dry clothes without forcing his way inside.

I picked them up and shut the door. The shirt smelled like him.

I stripped out of my wet clothes, pulled on his massive t-shirt—which reached past my knees—and crawled under the thick blanket. My body was exhausted, but my skin was still burning everywhere his rough hands had touched me.

I was twenty-four, trapped in a killer's house, and a crazy thought hit me. I hated love. I hated marriage. But if my life was always going to be this lonely, and I was standing right next to a lethal, drop-dead gorgeous man... maybe I didn't have to die a virgin after all.

I closed my eyes, pulling his warm t-shirt close as Kingsley's dark face filled my mind.

I tried to sleep, but my stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

I was starving. I hadn't eaten since lunch, and all the fear from earlier had burned up whatever energy I had left. I tossed and turned under the warm blanket, cursing Kingsley under my breath.

Arrogant jerk. He remembered to bring me clothes, but it didn't even cross his mind that I might be hungry?

I couldn't just lie there, so I slid out of bed. The floor was cold under my bare feet. I crept over to the door, opened it quietly, and stepped into the dim hallway.

The penthouse was silent. I had no idea where the kitchen was, so I just walked slowly down the hall, keeping my back close to the wall.

As I passed a room near the end of the hall, I saw the door was cracked open a few inches. Warm light spilled out onto the floor.

I stopped, planning to just knock quickly and ask where the food was. But right as I reached out, the door swung open a little wider.

Kingsley stepped out of his closet, heading toward his bathroom.

He was completely naked.

My breath locked solid in my throat. I couldn't move, and I couldn't look away. Under the light, his body was unreal. He had broad shoulders, a tight waist, and hard muscles all over his chest and back. A thick length of his c**k hung heavy between his thighs. The blood from earlier was gone, washed off his smooth, cut abs.

Instead of running, my body acted on pure, crazy instinct. I shrank back into the dark hall and hid against the wall.

He didn't see me. He stepped inside, and the bathroom door clicked shut, followed by the steady sound of the shower running.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, but it wasn't fear anymore. It was pure, burning lust. My face felt red hot, and a heavy ache coiled deep in my lower stomach.

I knew I should turn around and go straight back to my room. But my feet refused to move.

I want to see.

The crazy thought hit me before I could stop it. I was twenty-four, starved of touch, obsessed with spicy books, and I have never see none touch a d**k before, but here I am standing right outside the bathroom of a dangerous, drop-dead gorgeous man, it will be so sad if I can’t feed my eyes.

I slipped into his bedroom, my bare feet making no sound on the rug. The frosted glass door of his bathroom wasn't fully closed—it was open by just an inch.

I leaned in, holding my breath, and peeked through the crack.

Steam filled the room. Kingsley stood under the running water, tilting his head back to run his hands through his slick black hair. The water ran down his chest, tracing his abs and falling over his strong thighs.

A sharp gasp almost slipped out of my mouth. Heavy heat flooded right between my legs.

Without thinking, my hand slid up under his big t-shirt. I squeezed my own bare breast over my racing heart, my thumb brushing over my hard n****e while my other hand slid down between my thighs. Touching myself while watching a killer shower was total madness, but it felt so good I almost couldn't stand it.

The fantasy of the heiress from my novels flashed through my mind. She just took what she wanted from hot guys and walked away. I wish I’m just f*****g capable of doing that, I will have offer Kingsley anything for his services.

I was already damn wet..

Suddenly, Kingsley turned his head in the shower.

His dark gray eyes snapped straight through the steamy crack in the door, locking right onto mine.

I froze, my fingers instantly going still against my skin.

He had seen me.

Through the steamy glass, Kingsley didn't jump or reach for a towel. He just slowly turned his body to face the door, letting the water stream over his chest as he stared straight at me.

"Enjoying the view, little bird?" his low, gravelly voice cut right through the sound of the running shower.