Claimed by the CEO: A Dangerous Obsession

A sharp metallic click echoes through my empty classroom. The obsessed student shoves the yellow box cutter straight at me. A terrifying crack of bone shatters the silence.

Killian twists the boy’s arm up his back, forcing him to the linoleum floor. I drop to my knees, struggling for oxygen.

Killian ignores the screaming kid and hauls me flush against his chest. His thick fingers tangle in my hair. "Nobody is ever touching you," he rumbles against my temple.

Chapter 1 One drunken blur, and I ended up tangled in the sheets with my best friend Quinn’s childhood buddy. I planned on a onenight stand. A fleeting mistake.

Fate holds a twisted sense of humor. He happens to be the blind date I swore I’d never meet. Fragments of our reckless night crash into my brain. The friction. The slick heat.

The guttural sound of his breathing. Panic claws at my throat. I just need to run. But he traps me, his dark eyes tracking my every move. “The sun barely rose.

Come back to sleep.” I jolt upright. The alcohol fog evaporates instantly. Quinn threw a wild birthday bash last night. I drank until I blacked out.

And now, at seven in the morning, Killian’s gravelly voice vibrates against my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut. A massive headache splits my skull open.

Those filthy, breathless memories refuse to stay buried. “I… I have to get to work.” Killian chuckles. A low, rich chuckle that settles right in my stomach. I clamp my mouth shut.

My throat feels like sandpaper—shredded from screaming his name for hours. He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His sharp jawline grazes my collarbone.

Scalding breath washes over my pulse point. A violent shiver rips through my body. He finally releases his grip. I scramble out of his arms, every single muscle aching.

The hotel room reeks of sex. Sweat, heat, and raw obsession. Our clothes litter the carpet in a chaotic trail. Silver foil wrappers catch the morning light. One. Two. Three… Seven.

Seven torn wrappers scattered across the rug. Killian turns over. Muscle ripples across his broad back as he shifts. Angry red scratch marks track down his spine. My handiwork.

Heat floods my cheeks. I practically inhaled him last night. “Check the mirror.” Killian slides a glass of water across the nightstand. “Maybe call in sick.” “I can't.

My students need me today. I am a high school teacher.” I grab my clothes, sprint through a haphazard shower, and bolt out the door. I barely beat the bell.

The teenagers buzz with chaotic energy the second I step in. I slam a textbook onto the desk. The sharp crack instantly silences the room.

Later, in the staff room, a coworker leans in with a knowing smirk. “Wild night?” My stomach drops. I rush to the faculty restroom and grip the edges of the sink.

Killian practically devoured my bottom lip last night. Now, the skin sits broken and swollen. Dark shadows bruise the skin under my eyes.

I look entirely drained, like some demon sucked the absolute life force out of me. I grabbed a random Vneck this morning. Big mistake.

Violent purple hickeys paint my collarbones, flashing like neon signs advertising my poor decisions. Mortification suffocates me. I brought my walk of shame to work.

I survive the day, slather on thick concealer, and drag my exhausted body home. I collapse onto the living room sofa, my temples throbbing with a vicious rhythm. “Mom, please.

I need black coffee and four Advil.” A deep, achingly familiar voice echoes from the kitchen. “Already brewing. I’ll pour you a mug.” My lungs freeze.

I stare blindly at the kitchen doorway. “Killian! What the hell are you doing here?” My mom marches out, carrying a steaming mug. “Lower your voice, Piper!

Meet Killian, your grandfather’s old buddy’s grandson. He drove all the way out here to see us. Show some manners!” Reality slams into my chest like a freight train.

Grandpa pushed this arranged match on me two days ago by threatening to have a heart attack. I fought him tooth and nail, threatening to move to another continent.

Killian leans against the doorframe. A wicked, arrogant smirk plays on his bitten lips. His dark eyes lock onto mine, radiating predatory control. The world shrinks.

Quinn’s childhood friend. My grandfather’s arranged prospect. The man who completely wrecked me in a hotel room for seven rounds.

Chapter 2 My dad catches the stale scent of tequila radiating off me. His brows furrow into a deep scowl. He launches into a lecture about responsible drinking.

I swallow the lump in my throat and stay dead silent. If he knew exactly how irresponsible I was twelve hours ago, he’d have a heart attack.

Mom intercepts him. “Let the kids breathe.

She just walked in, give it a rest.” She hooks her arm through Dad’s and drags him into the kitchen, deliberately orchestrating some alone time for us.

Killian leans back into the cushions. Wicked amusement dances in his dark eyes. He parts his bitten lips to speak.

I furiously shake my head, pressing my palms together in a silent, desperate plea. He presses his lips together, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The couch cushions dip. Killian invades my space, his heavy thigh caging mine. His arm drops across the back of the sofa, trapping me. He lowers his head.

The sharp scent of cedar and male heat floods my lungs. His gravelly voice drops to a lethal whisper, scraping directly against my ear. “Cold shoulder already?

You were a lot more… vocal last night.” I can’t escape. My earlobes burn like touching a hot stove. I cover my ear, trying to block him out. “Look, I’m sorry. We’re adults.

People have needs. It was just a scratch to an itch.” Killian’s smirk deepens. “So we’re playing pretend?

Erasing the whole night?” “Can we?” His gaze drops to my mouth. “What do you think?” “Just chalk it up to a crazy night,” I rush out. “I’ll handle our grandfathers.

You don’t have to do anything.” His chest rumbles with a dark, raspy laugh. “You really think you can just talk your way out of this, sweetheart?” A cold spike of dread nails me to the sofa.

I poked a sleeping bear. A deep ache settles in my lower back—a brutal physical reminder of his stamina. I catch movement in my peripheral vision.

My mom peeks through the crack of the kitchen door, practically vibrating with excitement. I am completely screwed. The front door swings open.

Grandpa marches in, bringing his old army buddy with him. His weathered face splits into a massive grin. Killian’s predatory smile vanishes.

He stands up, transforming instantly into the perfect gentleman. The pot roast tastes like actual sawdust.

Four sets of eyes remain glued to Killian and me throughout the entire dinner. Mom rests her chin in her hands, practically glowing. “I think Killian is quite the catch.

Why don't you two give it a shot?” “Absolutely not.” “I’d love to.” Our voices crash into each other. Four pairs of eyebrows shoot up. I scramble for an excuse.

I can't exactly drop the bomb that we already destroyed a hotel room together. “I—I just prefer guys with golden retriever energy,” I lie through my teeth.

Killian pauses, his fork hovering over his plate. “Is that so?” Guilt gnaws at my stomach. I nod, refusing to meet his eyes. I open my mouth to change the subject.

A heavy, warm friction glides up my calf. I glance down under the mahogany table. Killian’s long leg completely crowds my space. His knee presses firmly against my bare thigh.

The rough denim of his jeans grinds against my sensitive skin, sending a dangerous spark straight to my pulse. He strokes his leg against mine. A slow, deliberate claim.

Above the table, his face remains entirely neutral. He looks dead at my grandfather, radiating pure sincerity. “I can be whatever she needs me to be.” The elders instantly melt.

The chorus of approval starts, four voices ganging up on me. I slam my heel down hard on Killian’s sneaker. He doesn’t even flinch.

He just takes the pain, playing the role of the helpless victim flawlessly while his thigh still burns against mine.

When I begged him to stop last night, there was nothing gentle about him. He pinned me to the mattress, a suffocating force of pure muscle and dominance. I never stood a chance.

I snap back to the present, tearing my mind away from the filthy memory. Trapped by my family’s relentless pressure, I force a tight smile. I agree to a date.

Mom ushers us to the front door, forcing me to walk him out. Killian casually pulls out his phone and asks for my number in front of the entire audience.

How could I possibly say no with my family watching? I snatch his device, punch my digits in, and shove it back against his chest.

The second he drives away, I pull out my own phone. I save his contact name as The Menace. Chapter 3 The second Killian’s truck pulls out of the driveway, I dial Quinn.

She cackles loud enough to blow out my phone speaker. “You are so screwed, Piper. Killian doesn't let go of things he claims,” she wheezes. “Better go scrub up.

You're officially his captive bride now.” “He’s an absolute menace!” I grip the phone, pacing my bedroom. “A manipulative, twofaced savage built like a damn freight train.” “Oh, his soul is pitch black,” Quinn giggles. “None of us dare cross him.

You really poked the bear. But come on, look at him. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy the eightpack and that ridiculous Vline.” My breath hitches. I can't even argue.

Killian's aesthetics are absolutely flawless. A walking red flag, but he checks every single one of my physical boxes. And he knows exactly how to use his size.

Dark memories from the hotel room crash into my brain. The crushing weight of his chest pressing against my back.

His calloused fingers tangling with mine, pinning my hand flat against my own stomach. He wrecked my sanity until I sobbed his name. A wicked, relentless devil.

I call in sick the next morning. By sunset, my mother practically shoves a Tupperware container into my hands. She orders me to deliver dinner to Killian and eat with him.

I surrender and order an Uber. Grandpa claimed Killian ran a “struggling little startup.” He actually warned me not to look down on him just because I teach high school AP classes.

I stare out the Uber window, craning my neck. My map pin points to the absolute tallest glass skyscraper in the downtown financial district. A polished receptionist beams at me.

She scans a keycard, ushering me into a private executive elevator shooting straight to the penthouse level. “The CEO is wrapping up a board meeting,” she chirps. The CEO?!

Double glass doors swing open. Killian strides out, rolling up his dress shirt sleeves.

The second his dark eyes lock onto mine, a genuine, blinding warmth cracks his ruthless facade. He wraps a heavy arm around my waist right in the middle of the bullpen.

He shamelessly introduces me as his girl to a pack of men in tailored suits, soaking in their surprised congratulations. My social battery hits zero. I just want my bed.

Killian’s hand tightens on my hip. He bends closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Eat dinner with me, Piper.

Or I'll just eat you.” I physically flinch. “Are you physically incapable of feeling shame?” His smirk turns wicked. “Completely.” I surrender.

We eat takeout in his massive corner office. The second I toss my empty carton and grab my purse, his jaw hardens. He refuses to let me leave. He sinks back into his leather chair.

His large hand slaps his hard thigh. A silent, undeniable command. “You mentioned yesterday that adults have needs.

Right?” “Shut up,” I mutter, my cheeks burning. “I'm coming.” I cross the plush carpet and straddle his lap. His thick arms instantly circle my waist, locking me in.

The brutal heat of his body bleeds straight through his slacks, searing the thin denim of my jeans. “Miss me?” His breathing fractures.

His voice drops an entire octave, morphing into a rough, vibrating growl. “Do I have a choice?” “I missed you.” He captures my hand.

His rough thumb strokes my knuckles before he presses my palm against his mouth.

His lips brand my skin—a damp, searing heat against my nerve endings. “Missed you right here.” He drags my captive hand down the hard plane of his chest.

He flattens my palm over his heart. The heavy, frantic thud of his pulse hammers against my fingertips. “Missed you here, too.” Blood rushes to my face. I am helplessly affected.

Solid muscle stretches the crisp fabric of his dress shirt. Raw testosterone. My absolute weakness. He plays the rugged, simpleminded rogue flawlessly. But it's all a trap.

He looks like a golden boy on the outside, but underneath, he is a ruthless, sharpedged predator. “What are you doing?” My breath hitches. Killian’s grip shifts.

He slowly guides my trembling hand lower, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. “You absolute menace!” I gasp, trying to pull away.

A slow, triumphant smirk spreads across his face. The perfect gentleman from my living room vanishes entirely. “Am I?” Killian tilts his head, feigning perfect innocence. “Funny.

You weren't calling me a menace the other night.” He leans in, his hot breath ghosting across my jaw. “You were calling me husband.” Guilt clenches my stomach.

The memories hit me with perfect clarity. I completely threw Quinn under the bus for a taste of him that night. I grabbed Killian's collar and refused to let go. Quinn had panicked.

She tried to pry my fingers off him, begging me to stop acting crazy. Instead, I dragged him down and planted a bold, drunken kiss right on his mouth.

Killian instantly hoisted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. He crushed me against the wall, his lips brushing my ear. “Last chance to back out, Piper.

I know damn well you aren't too drunk to know exactly who I am.” Chapter 4 Liquid courage is a dangerous drug. My alcoholsoaked brain shortcircuited that night in the hotel room.

I actually wrapped my arms around Killian’s neck, giggling as I peppered sloppy kisses across his jaw. “What's wrong?” I slurred, tracing his collarbone. “Can't get it up?” Social suicide.

I struck a match and dropped it into a powder keg. Now, this absolute menace refuses to let me go. He claims I wrecked his selfcontrol and demands I take responsibility.

My sluggish brain finally connects the dots. “Killian.” I brace my hands against his chest. “You knew exactly who I was from the very beginning, didn't you?” He doesn’t even flinch. “Guilty.” His thick fingers lazily trace my spine. “Saw a picture on Quinn’s phone a while back.

Told her you looked sweet. She threatened to castrate me if I ever looked your way.” A dark, low chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Then my grandfather slapped your photo on my desk.

Call it fate.” I stare at him in sheer disbelief. “Did you honestly think I was just some random fuckboy?” Killian's voice drops, scraping against the shell of my ear. “That I drag just anyone into my bed?

Hmm?” A violent shockwave of electricity shoots straight down my spine. I scramble to slide off his lap.

His massive hands instantly lock onto my hips, anchoring me flush against his rigid center. I twist, my thighs grinding desperately against his slacks. A fatal mistake.

Pure, suffocating danger radiates from the man beneath me. Killian lets out a rough, ragged breath. His grip tightens to the point of bruising. “Stop moving, Piper.

You're squirming way too much.” My muscles lock. I surrender, collapsing against his broad chest.

Despite the blaring red flags, an insane, gravitational sense of safety wraps around me. His heavy, scalding breath washes over my pulse point. “Look out the window.

The sunset from up here is incredible.” I turn my head. The sprawling Chicago skyline stretches out below us, bathed in a bleeding, goldenhour light. It really is breathtaking.

Killian’s lips press against my jaw. Slow at first. Then greedy. His stubble scrapes my flushed skin as he chases my mouth, finally capturing my lips in a brutal, consuming kiss.

My defenses shatter. The intoxicating friction of his tongue drags a pathetic, needy sound from my throat. I am completely at his mercy.

The penthouse AC blasts freezing air, but my palm slaps flat against the icy floortoceiling glass, instantly fogging the pane with trapped heat.

His thick fingers tangle in my hair, wrenching my head back. He devours my mouth from a sharp, demanding angle. He consumes my oxygen. He finally breaks the seal.

My lungs heave, desperately dragging in air.

Before I can even blink, his bruised lips brush against mine again. “Marry me, Piper.” His voice is rough and completely raw. “Let's get engaged.” My brain shortcircuits.

My entire reality shrinks down to the brutal grip of his hands on my hips. I can't form a single coherent syllable of rejection. Violent shivers wrack my frame.

Killian swallows my gasp with a punishing, desperate kiss. His stamina is terrifying.

The sheer, overwhelming sensory overload eclipses everything else, until the edges of my vision blur and the world simply fades to black. I wake up decimated.

Thick blackout curtains block the night sky. I’m tangled in dark sheets in a massive, unfamiliar bed. Killian's place.

A heavy, muscular arm cages my waist, hauling my back flush against his rockhard chest. “Finally awake?” His gravelly morning voice vibrates against my spine. “Thirsty?” Déjà vu hits me like a freight train.

God, Piper, you have zero spine. I mentally curse my own pathetic lack of selfcontrol. Killian lets out a dark, knowing chuckle. “Don't beat yourself up, sweetheart.

Your willpower is fine.

The enemy just plays dirty.” “Oh, shut up.” “I can read you like a book.” He presses a warm, lingering kiss behind my ear. “One twitch of your brow, and I know exactly what dirty little thoughts are running through your head.” I am completely doomed.

He cast a net, and I swandived right into it. The man is an absolute bandit. Friday afternoon.

My AP History students are practically climbing the walls, desperate for the weekend bell to ring. I’m vibrating with a different kind of anxiety.

Killian just texted that he’s waiting outside to pick me up. Just as I pack my briefcase, a senior football player hovers by my desk.

He rubs the back of his neck, muttering about a question on the Cold War essay. Killian can wait in his expensive truck. My students come first.

I usher the boy into the empty faculty lounge. “Alright, what part of the syllabus lost you?” I drop my bag on a desk. “Ms. Davis, I…” The kid's face flushes crimson.

He abruptly yanks a meticulously wrapped gift box out of his backpack and shoves it toward me. “I'm obsessed with you! Please go out with me!” Chapter 5 Panic.

Cold, suffocating panic. Waking up trapped in Killian’s bed was nothing compared to this absolute nightmare. I fought tooth and nail for this teaching position.

I am a professional educator, not the target of some twisted statutory obsession. “Look,” I force my voice to stay level, stepping back until my hip hits the whiteboard. “I am your instructor.

You cannot cross this boundary.” The kid drops his head. A heavy, toxic silence stretches between us. Thinking he was just heartbroken, I open my mouth to comfort him.

A sharp, metallic click echoes through the empty classroom. A yellow box cutter glints in his tight fist. He pushes the razor blade all the way out. My lungs seize.

The blood drains from my face in a sickening rush. My legs turn to lead. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. A massive, dark blur lunges past me.

A sickening crack of bone shatters the silence. The kid shrieks in agony. The plastic box cutter clatters across the linoleum floor.

Killian twists the boy’s arm up his back, forcing him to his knees with brutal efficiency. “Is this your sick idea of romance?” Killian’s voice turns dangerously cold.

He wrenches the joint higher. “Pulling a blade on a woman?” “Why don't you love me?!” the kid screams, spit flying from his lips as he thrashes against the linoleum.

Killian’s jaw ticks. He doesn't even blink. “Piper. Call 911.” Tremors wrack my body. My fingers refuse to cooperate.

My phone slips from my grip, slamming against the floor twice before I finally dial the numbers. Killian never leaves my side.

His highpowered legal team swarms the police precinct within twenty minutes, aggressively handling the detectives and the school board.

I sit frozen on a metal bench, drowning in the crushing weight of Killian’s leather jacket. Ice water runs through my veins.

If Killian hadn't walked through that door, I would be bleeding out on a classroom floor. The sharp, grounding scent of cedar and pure musk cuts through my panic.

Killian pulls me flush against his side. His rough lips press firmly against my temple, lingering there. “You’re safe, Piper.

I’ve got you.” His chest rumbles against my shoulder. “Nobody is ever touching you.” A terrifying realization slams into my chest. It isn't that he couldn't live without me.

It's that I desperately needed him. The fallout is swift. The district instantly expels the student. Admin places me on a week of paid administrative leave.

Returning to my empty apartment feels like a death sentence. Killian doesn't even ask. He simply packs my bags and moves me straight into his penthouse.

It takes days to stop looking over my shoulder. Every single morning, I wake up trapped in his crushing grip.

He claims I thrash from nightmares, acting as my personal weighted blanket. Honestly, after that first night, I sleep like the dead. 6:00 AM.

The Chicago skyline is still pitch black. Killian’s deep, rhythmic breaths ghost across my collarbone. A cocoon of absolute safety. I shift against the silk sheets.

My fingers hook the edge of his unbuttoned sleep shirt, pushing the dark fabric aside. The hard, carved lines of his chest catch the dim city light.

Curiosity overrides my restraint.

I trace the deep groove of his chest. “Impressive,” I whisper to the empty room. “I have something far more impressive.” Killian’s raspy, sleepwrecked voice vibrates directly into my palm.

His massive hand clamps over mine.

He ruthlessly drags my fingers down the rigid ridges of his abdomen, dipping dangerously close to the waistband of his sweatpants. “Want to feel?” The searing heat of his skin scorches my fingertips.

His breath hitches, the sound heavy and thick with raw morning desire. My pulse instantly skyrockets. Killian slowly opens his eyes.

Dark, consuming obsidian locks onto my flushed face. “I’m starting to notice a pattern, Piper.” His rough thumb strokes my racing pulse. “You never sleep in.

You just wake up early to torture me.” “My bad. Entirely my fault.” I desperately try to yank my hand back, but his grip is pure iron.

He forces my palm to stay flat against his strained muscles, letting me feel the heavy, erratic thud of his heart. “Killian, stop playing.” Chapter 6 The words barely leave his mouth before the entire world violently flips.

I let out a sharp gasp. The silk sheets tangle around my ankles. Killian hauls me up by my hips, instantly forcing my legs to straddle his waist.

His massive hand clamps around the back of my neck, anchoring me flush against his rigid center.

There is zero escape. “Piper.” His voice is completely ragged. “Help me out here.” He forces my trembling fingers to wrap around his strained heat.

He thrusts his hips upward, a brutal, desperate friction against my palm.

His scorching face buries into the crook of my neck, his hot breath branding my skin. “You absolute menace,” I gasp out, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. “You dirty, manipulative bandit.” “If I’m a bandit, that makes you my captive bride.” Killian’s chest heaves.

He captures my jaw, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip before he ruthlessly devours my mouth. “Don't even think about running.” We shatter into each other, a breathless collision of heat and obsession.

When the sensory overload finally recedes, I collapse against his heavily muscled chest, my brain entirely shortcircuited. Killian’s thick arms wrap securely around my bare waist.

He traces lazy circles onto my spine. “When do you go back to campus?

I’m driving you every single day from now on.” I open my mouth to argue, but the suffocating memory of that yellow box cutter flashes behind my eyelids.

I swallow hard and nod against his collarbone. Monday morning. Killian parks his matte black truck in the faculty lot and physically escorts me all the way to my desk.

According to the senior girls, the second he stepped onto campus, every woman in a tenmile radius went absolutely feral. “Ms.

Davis,” a girl in my firstperiod whispers, discreetly tapping the back of her neck. “You might want to borrow some concealer.

You have a massive hickey right there.” My hand violently slaps over my nape. Pure heat floods my cheeks. I know exactly what kind of dark purple bruise he sucked into my skin.

The man is a literal feral hound! Despite the utter mortification, my first day back flows perfectly. The crushing anxiety finally lifts.

I push through the heavy double doors at the end of the day. Killian stands by his truck, clutching a huge bouquet of fresh flowers.

And he is deep in conversation with a stunning, leggy blonde. My blood instantly boils. A toxic, blinding spike of jealousy wrecks my good mood.

I force my legs to move, marching straight toward the dropoff zone to catch whatever the hell is coming out of her mouth. It’s his exgirlfriend. What the hell is this?!

Stolen moments in a parking lot? Is he seriously trying to play me? “What exactly are we doing here?” I wedge myself directly between them.

I glare at the floral arrangement in his massive hands, desperately fighting to keep my voice steady. “Old friend?” Killian’s face remains deadpan.

He wraps a heavy arm around my waist, yanking me flush against his side, and shoves the expensive bouquet into my chest. He looks dead at the blonde. “The past is buried.

Stop digging it up. As you can clearly see, my fiancée is a fiercely jealous little thing. Lose my number.

Permanently.” “I am not possessive!” I snap, elbowing his solid ribs. “And don’t think flowers magically fix this.” “Yes, sweetheart. Entirely my fault.

Don't be angry, Piper.” Killian’s rough thumb gently smooths the deep crease between my eyebrows. “Frowning gives you wrinkles.” I instantly force my face to relax. “Shut up.

I refuse to age prematurely.” Killian flashes a devastating, genuine smile. His dark eyes lock onto mine, completely consumed by me.

By the time my brain reboots, the blonde is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline crashes, leaving me feeling slightly unhinged.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Were you seriously trying to hook up behind my back?

Handing out bouquets in broad daylight?” “My beautiful, chaotic menace,” Killian chuckles, his chest vibrating against my arm. “These are the lisianthus you specifically demanded I buy last night.

Did you completely black out?” A fresh wave of heat scorches my cheeks.

I totally forgot. “You wound me.” Killian drops his chin, instantly adopting the pitiful look of a massive, kicked hound. “We’ve wrecked way too many hotel bedsheets for you to question my loyalty.

How could you accuse me of such treason?” God, he plays the innocent, golden retriever act entirely too well. I reach up, awkwardly patting his chest to soothe his wounded ego.

But he absolutely refuses to let me off the hook. “If I’m going to sneak around and commit dirty, unspeakable acts,” Killian leans in, his hot breath ghosting my earlobe, “it’s going to be with you, Piper.

You were spectacularly vocal the other night.” I slap my hand firmly over his wicked mouth. “Shut your filthy trap.

Have some shame.” Killian’s deep, booming laugh echoes across the empty asphalt. He tosses me into the passenger seat, taking me out to dinner.

Chapter 7 Dinner is a massive seafood spread at a private oceanfront table. He chartered a sleek luxury yacht for the weekend.

The second dessert is cleared, I happily lean into my new role as a pampered trophy wife and drag him aboard.

The offshore wind cuts through my thin silk dress, but the endless stretch of stars reflecting on the black water is mesmerizing. I refuse to go below deck.

The sharp snick of a metal lighter breaks the quiet. A brief flare of orange illuminates Killian’s sharp jawline before fading into the dark.

The cherry of his cigarette burns red. “Still not going inside?” A thick cloud of smoke slips past his lips.

His voice is a low, protective rumble over the crashing waves. “You’re shivering, Piper.

Be good and get out of the cold.” I take a massive step back. “Keep your toxic secondhand smoke away from me, asshole.” A dark chuckle vibrates in the shadows.

He crushes the cigarette out against the railing and heads for the master cabin. I lose myself in the pristine, unpolluted night sky. I drop my guard.

A massive arm suddenly hooks around my waist. The ground drops out from under me. I shriek as Killian effortlessly flips me over his broad shoulder like a sack of flour.

A heavy, calloused hand delivers a sharp smack to my ass. “Save the vocal cords, sweetheart. You’re going to need them later.” Heat violently floods my cheeks.

I furiously pinch the thick muscle of his back. He retaliates with another deliberate, echoing sting against my bare thigh. It isn’t meant to hurt.

It’s a slow, burning friction that instantly drags a buried memory to the surface. A hotel room. The punishing rhythm of his hips.

That exact same heavy palm leaving a red handprint on my skin. “Look at you, Piper,” he had growled right after delivering a sting to my backside, his breath completely shattered. “Flushing so perfectly pink for me.” My core gives a treacherous throb.

Killian dumps me directly onto the center of the kingsized mattress. He rips his designer shirt over his head in a couple of swift motions.

The heavy metallic clink of his belt buckle echoes through the cabin. Panic spikes. I have early morning classes to prep for. My stamina is absolutely no match for his.

I scramble up, desperately grabbing his thick wrist. “Killian, are you made of actual titanium? Give it a rest.

I’m going back out to watch the waves, I just need a jacket—” A dangerous smirk tugs at his lips. His rough thumb traces the swollen line of my bottom lip.

With slow, agonizing precision, he slips the pad of his thumb past my teeth, dragging over my tongue. His other hand completely bypasses my defenses.

Thick fingers slide up my thigh, bunching the silk of my dress around my hips.

His scorching heat leaves a trail of fire across my bare skin. “Tell me, Piper,” his voice drops to a dark, husky whisper. “Have you ever been tied up?” My brain flatlines